#the little portraits on the wall are her friends i’m going to put one of them as her roommate!

[lincolndjarin]

my sister lives in the attic.

main masterlist

joel miller x reader

warnings : angst, death, child loss, grieving, denial

a/n : i've never written something like this but i'm in a weird place and this idea has been following me for quite some time now so i decided to take a few minutes and write it, i'd love some feedback on it since this style is kinda new to me !!

He didn’t like to talk about his children. 

“Do you have kids?”

“Two daughters.” Was all he said.

That’s what he had told you on your first date. He was so abrupt about it that you didn’t ask about them again, instead opting to wait until he told you on his own terms. 

On your fifth date he told you that Ellie got in trouble for cursing in gym class that day. 

On your seventh date he told you Sarah was away at college, and that he missed her terribly and wished she would visit. 

On your eighth date he told you that Ellie made him a card for his birthday. He even brought it over to your house to show you. It was a drawing of the two of them floating through space. The inside said:

i love our family to the moon and back!

You didn’t ask why Sarah wasn’t included in the crayon family portrait. 

On your ninth date he showed you the photos in his wallet. A baby girl with her curly dark hair up in two little buns sitting in the sand. The one below it was a girl who looked to be about five, giving the camera a toothy grin, standing next to Joel in a courthouse, holding up her adoption papers. 

On your twelfth date he finally invited you over for dinner, you happily accepted. 

Joel introduced you to an extremely energetic seven year old. He gave you a tour of the house (only the first floor.) and you smiled at every family photo hung on the walls.

“I invited Sarah but she couldn’t make it, she’s got midterms but I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.” He tells you before leaving you with Ellie, going to pick up a pizza for the three of you. 

Ellie tells you about school, about her best friend Riley, and about playing soccer in the backyard with her father. 

And then she says the strangest thing. 

“My sister lives in the attic.”

“Excuse me?” You had given her a confused smile but she carried on as if it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“My sister, Sarah, lives in the attic.” She said it so plainly. Taking your hand and dragging you up the stairs, pointing up at a staircase on the second story that led to a singular door, pink paint peeling from it with little wooden letters spelling out SARAH, the sight of it put you on edge. 

“We shouldn’t go up there honey, let’s wait until your father gets back.” You had put up a bit of resistance but she ran ahead of you, you watched helplessly from the bottom of the stairs as Ellie pushed open the door and ran inside. 

“It’s okay, dad says I can talk to Sarah whenever I want as long as I don’t touch her stuff.” She had shouted, already inside. Despite every nerve in your body singing for you to go back downstairs and wait, you knew better than to leave a child alone so you climbed the steps and entered the room. 

Nothing strange, nothing frightening, no secret nightmare. 

When you look around all you see is a room, albeit a child's room but a room nonetheless. 

Ellie sits in a love seat, suddenly repeating everything she told you about her day to seemingly no one as she stares at Sarah’s bookshelf. You walk around, trying to recall when Joel said she left for college. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust but strangest of all this is clearly not a teenager's room. 

This is a childs room, for a girl about Ellie’s age. Every photo on her desk doesn’t show her older than what looks to be twelve. 

“Ellie, honey, when you said your sister lived in the atti-'' She doesn’t stop talking from behind you, ignoring you entirely but her words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“Dad keeps saying you’re coming home for Christmas but he also said you’d be home for his birthday, he keeps telling me how much we’re gonna get along but I just tell him we already get along fine.” 

It sends a chill up your spine, you aren’t superstitious but in a moment of weakness when you turn a part of you almost expects to see a ghost.

Of course that isn’t the case.  

When you look Ellie remains in the loveseat, seemingly the only thing that isn’t covered in dust up here. Her eyes trained on the highest shelf, when you follow her line of sight all of it starts to make sense. The shelf is covered in books and toys and trinkets, all of which are showing signs of age and disuse but the top shelf is neat and tidy, it even looks recently dusted. 

Only two things are on the top shelf. 

A beer bottle with the label ripped off, a lilac sits within it, a few stray petals lay in a halo around the makeshift vase. 

And a dark purple urn. 

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, unable to tear your eyes from it. 

“One time Uncle Tommy told me she was an angel.” She whispers when you stare in silence for far too long. “Dad got so mad we didn’t see Tommy for like a month after that and when we did see him again everything went back to normal.”

“What happened to her?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, she only shrugs in response.

“It was before I lived here, I never ask, I’m worried he’ll send me to live with Uncle Tommy if I do.” 

“Oh, honey.” You crouch down beside her, she hugs her knees to her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.” 

“I’m still not gonna ask. He doesn’t talk about her that much, only when someone else brings it up or if I ask to come up here to see her.” You nod slowly before holding your arms out to her, she wraps herself around you and you carry her to the door, eager to leave the tomb you’ve stumbled upon. “Bye Sarah.” She mumbled against your shoulder as you closed the door, the sentiment sent shivers down your spine. 

When Joel returns with the food it’s as if you never were in the attic at all.

Ellie runs to him, wrapping herself around his leg as he laughs, trying to kick her loose. 

When the three of you sit down for dinner she never says a thing to him about any of it. 

She asks if she can go to her friends house after dinner, their mom is going to take them to the arcade, Joel grins at you, asking if she was good while he was gone and you put on a smile, nodding. 

“Then you can go.” He ruffled her hair before she ran off to get her backpack. When it was just the two of you he took your hand, mentioning something about catching a movie while she’s gone, you nodded absentmindedly when he gave your hand a gentle squeeze you finally looked him in the eye. 

You’d never noticed it before but there is a permanent sorrow behind the dark expanse of his irises, as if he’s never really happy, he’s sometimes just less sad. “Everything okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

You don’t bring up the attic at the dinner table.

Or in the car.

Or at the movies. 

He just needs time, you tell yourself. Maybe he’ll tell you on your thirteenth date, maybe it won’t be until your hundredth date. Until then you won’t tell him that you know who lives in the attic and you���ll nod with faux disappointment when he says that his eldest won’t be home for the holidays this year. 

And you’ll take extra care of him on days when he comes home with fresh lilacs.

a/n : yeah so uhhhhhhhhhh tell me how y'all liked this haha idk if i'll write anything like this again it was just sort of something for me to vent with, hope everyones having a good day and thank y'all for reading <3

[shuxiii]

A ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵇᵒᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ˡᵒᵛᵉ

ᴷᵃⁿᵍ ʰᵃᵉʳᶦⁿᵎ ʷᶦᵗᶜʰ ˣ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

My school wasn’t normal not the slightest, from flying brooms to flying rats and an invisible barrier protecting it, it was sure an odd sight for you to witness. You could call your school a magical one, even the students themselves looked less human but still human some just had cats for ears and sharp fangs in short vampires, hybrid humans, and others, you on the other were just normal student with a normal body nothing exciting at all.

Except, for one thing, the scary witch with the resemblance of a black cat who would always glare and stare at you ever since you became a student in the school. You were surprised she hasn’t put a curse on you, witches were something to be terrified of in your school of how much black magic they could do and other more. So, you expected the moment you woke up, you’d have your limbs torn piece by piece by that witch.

Her name was Kang Haerin, a name you could never forget. She only had a few friends, and she barely spoke, her aura was completely dark. Other students always warned the newcomers to avoid her, if they don’t want their entire bloodline cursed.

You wished someone told you sooner, it was too late for you. Because the moment you spoke to her the forever curse was now inflicted on you.

It was a lovely Monday morning, it was your first day in your new school. A little nervous, but excited.

The moment you walked into the classroom, everyone was nice and well-mannered, it took some time to adjust to the sight of fur ears and intimidating-looking sharp teeth.

You met a fairy-looking girl (of how pretty she was) introducing herself as Hanni, who agreed to tour you around the school.

-

‘‘This is the library where you read those boring books, careful though some books are laced with a dark curse whoever opens it!’‘ Hanni explained with a smile on her face.

You fell silent staring back at Hanni, before she starts laughing a little.

‘‘I’m messing those books are kept in a locked room’‘ She giggled, you laughed back awkwardly, still slightly startled at the thought of a dark curse placed upon you.

‘‘Um Hanni? can I go to the bathroom real quick?’‘ You asked.

‘‘Oh, sure just go straight and right you’ll see it’‘ She pointed in the hallway.

‘‘Thanks, I’ll be right back!’‘ you hurried, turning your back on Hanni.

-

You walked across the linear hallway, gazing at the historical portraits hung on the walls, you swear sometimes their eyes moved which creeps you up a little but expect the unexpected in a school filled with magic.

You were too distracted by the paintings to not notice a person coming your way, The moment you took a right you accidentally bump into a girl.

‘’Ack!’’

feeling yourself falling backward makes you hold her arms for support. it was a little late as both of you fell on the floor, you fell on your butt with the girl on top of you.

‘‘I’m so sorry-’‘ Before you could apologize, the girl hurriedly stood up, startling you a bit.

You abruptly stood up too, now finally focused on the girl. She wore a black cloak with jet-black hair.

‘‘I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I got a little distracted by the paintings, are you okay?’‘ you look around her to see if she got injured, your eyes darted to the slight red liquid dripping on her fingers.

‘‘I’m okay’‘ her voice soft-spoken, her gaze still looking down.

You quickly took your handkerchief, holding her hands on yours covering the blood that dripped on her fingers, your actions were abrupt making her startled.

‘‘Ah- did I scare you? I’m sorry, Your knuckles are bleeding, it was probably from the fall’‘ You explained, your voice filled with guilt.

You took out a band-aid with a cat for a design, and you always hand band-aids carried around, well your mom always made you carry them around for situations like this.

‘‘This might sting a little’‘ You carefully put it on the back of her hand, before blowing air against her knuckles.

‘‘My mom always told me to blow air on a bruise to help it heal faster’‘ you spoke

‘‘What’s your name?’‘ You asked, and for a brief moment, you saw her eyes.

Her eyes resembled a black cat, they were hypnotic, but before you could get a name, she quickly left not giving you any time to stop her.

and that was the first and last encounter you ever had with her, but ever since you told Hanni about the incident she prayed for your soul that you wouldn’t get cursed by her. You didn’t get it at first but now you were terrified mostly guilty but still terrified.

Yet despite being a little afraid of what will come to you, you slightly doubt how others viewed witches, sure they are malevolent in many fairytale stories but are they really?

But ever since that accident, She always glared at you. She must be really upset be upset, you have tried apologizing properly but she’d always disappear in a blink of an eye.

That is, until today.

The class shortly ended, You began packing your bag. oddly enough it was only you left in the room making it quiet, it was a few minutes before you finished packing up for the day.

As you turned around you shrieked a little falling back down to your chair, there stood the same black cloak jet-black-haired girl everyone feared of.

She was holding a small bottle that looked like a coffee cup and a thick book in both of her hands. She gazed at you.

‘‘I didn’t notice you there’’ You stuttered a little.

She motioned the cup to your face, ‘’This is for you, drink it’’ She spoke.

With care, you took the cup from her grasp and look at it before returning your gaze to her. She looked at you eagerly, eyes shining with anticipation.

At that moment, you swore the drink had poison or what and expected the worst of worst to come, from poison ivy to a snake’s venom.

You abruptly drank it, closing your eyes and anticipating the worst.

huh. that’s odd nothing happened the coffee tasted normal-

As the coffee slips from your grasp, a cloudy air emits the room, you opened your eyes to see a tense look on Haerin’s face.

that’s weird, is it me or did the view of the room get a little bigger. Your eyes darted down your hands that now... looked like paws?!

You started screaming, well barking.

‘‘Why am I dog?!’‘ You started yelling.

You glance back at a befuddled Haerin, hastily flipping through her book and muttering to herself.

‘‘There must be a mistake here, did I read the wrong spell? it should have been a love potion’‘

You were getting a little agitated.

‘‘Hey, you better find a way to fix this, my mom is allergic to dogs, and I can’t be a dog forever!’‘ You squealed (barked)

You gave Haerin a stern look as she closed her book and turned to face you. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she looked anxious.

‘‘There is a way to fix it, well the only way’‘

‘‘And that is?’‘

‘‘There is one called a Multipurpose of lower magic, as long as the castor and the cursed share a touch the magic can be lifted immediately off the body’‘

‘‘What does that mean’’

‘‘it means let me kiss it, yn’’

‘‘let you what?’‘

‘‘A kiss’‘

‘‘A WHAT?’‘

You became increasingly anxious as she moved a little closer to you.

‘‘You’re joking right there’s got to be another way here’‘

"Nope, there isn't." Her tone of voice sounded slightly more cheerful than usual.

"You can't just kiss me. You'll be taking away my first kiss!" you exclaimed.

‘‘This was planned wasn’t it!’‘

‘‘What! No- this is purely an accident’‘

She lifted your small body, slowly pulling you close. You moved both your paws onto her lips, giving all your force to push her off.

"Wait, wait, wait! I'm not ready!" You exclaimed, quickly shutting your eyes.

You felt a soft brush against your lips, the gentle lingering sensation struck a nerve, making you feel the burn on your cheeks, without even realizing it, you were back to normal.

Both of you flushed, looking everywhere but at each other’s eyes, who knew witches could be this cruel? well a little too cruel for your heart.

A curse she cast on you with no cure, a cupid's arrow piercing your heart.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Picture prompt masterlist #7!! You and H just finished fucking and he takes a picture to post on his close friends but her accidentally posts it to his main and quickly deletes it, but the thought of him knowing that people saw it and he just got fucked makes him kinda horny again and you tell him to turn his phone off or smth like that🥺

What a good idea! I love it!!! Hope you like the blurb! Thanks for the inspo 🫶🏻

You were catching your breath after you’d finished riding Harry’s cock. You were smiling as he peppered kisses all over your bare chest and neck. Your pussy occasionally pulsing around him since he was still buried inside you.

“Fuck that was so good…” You hummed and then kissed the side of his head, “Did it get bigger while you were away?” You asked jokingly and he chuckled.

“Nuh-uh, that’s all you, baby. So fucking tight thought I might have to stretch you out f’me all over again. Like way back then.” He said and you sighed out a little laugh.

“Wow…those were the days…” you hummed and he nodded.

“Baby?”

“Hmmm?”

“Wanna do a post-coitus portrait with me?” He asked lowly, right up against your throat and you giggled at his question and bit your lip as you pulled him out from your neck by the hair.

“Like a saucy picture?” You asked with a curious and delighted grin and he hummed and nodded yes. “Yeah, let’s do it.” You agreed easily and he smiled at you before holding you against him with one arm while leaning over to the bedside table and grabbing his phone and you watched as he actually opened up his instagram. “Wait? On social media?! You dirty, little slut!” You teased with a playful and shocked tone and he smiled bashfully at his screen.

“Yes.” He said simply as he slid over to his story. His dimple carved deeply into his cheek as he continued smiling at his reflection now. He was so pretty to look at you and you sighed dreamily in his arms. He raised the phone a bit more so that it was level with your mouths. “Kiss me. Right on my cheek.” He instructed and you smiled and leaned in. You puckered your lips and smooched him, holding still as he wiped the smile off his mouth and snapped the picture. “That’s nice.” He mused, “Do you like it?”

“Yeah. Actually I do. Gonna post it?” You asked as he looked it over a bit more.

“Can I?” He asked you and you shrugged with a smile.

“I don’t mind.” You assured.

“OK.” He hummed as he started to type something, “How’s that?” He asked and you grinned as you read his little caption: Making up for lost time 🐇🐇❤️‍🔥

“Cheeky boy.” You chuckled and watched as he pressed post and locked his phone. “H.”

“Yes, baby?”

“You posted that on your story.”

“I know.” He chuckled and then you laughed.

“No, like your regular story! Not private!” You alerteded him and his smile dropped and his eyes grew wide in concern.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“YES! I’m positive! Hurry up and take it down!” You urged and he grabbed his phone quickly and unlocked it.

“Oh, shit…shit, shit, shit, shit!” He cursed as he saw that it already had nearly 300 views, he saved it and then deleted it quickly, but he knew the damage was done. His fans acted fast. He then reuploaded it to his private and locked his phone. “Fuck, I’m sorry that’s going to be everywhere… fuck.”

“It’s OK, It’s just a kiss on the cheek, yeah? And well, the caption’s a little spicy but it’s tasteful.” You assured and he chuckled and shook his head.

“I think you’re enjoying this…”

“A little…I don’t often get to claim you publicly. It kind of turns me on.” You said softly and he grinned.

“Me too.” He grinned back and you giggled.

“Yeah, I can tell.” You said softly as you ground down against him, “Got so hard so fast.” You said and clenched your walls and he moaned into your neck.

“What if we record an audio?”

“Please put your phone down before you butt-dial your mom or something…” you advised and he chuckled.

“Fine. Fine.” He agreed and tossed his phone to the empty side of the bed. You smiled as you draped your arms around his shoulders and slightly raised your hips before lowering them back into his and he smiled at you through hazy and lust-filled eyes. “Good girl, fuck me.”

READ MORE PICTURE PROMPT BLURBS HERE!

[lambertdiary]

Jealousy, Jealousy

"Sorry Won't Fix This" Masterlist

A/N: So I posted part two a couple of days ago and I had a few people asking for a part three, and I'm not gonna lie... I got a little carried away lol, so definitely I'll post a part 4. This was really fun to write and hopefully it'll be fun for you guys to read it! PLEASE let me know what you think 🫶🏻 Also I was watching an Andrew Garfield movie so keep that in mind.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Warnings: angst, language, jealousy, Dalton being shitty (again)

MASTERLIST     ✩    SEND ME A REQUEST

After Dalton left, Y/N just stared at the door trying to hold her tears in. She was doing a good job, until Chris walked through the door and asked her what was wrong. She broke down immediately, but Chris stayed with her comforting her all night. She cried until she couldn't anymore, and all that was left was a raging headache. 

Y/N told Chris everything, she had been avoiding that subject but letting it all out made her feel a lot better. She felt bad for Chloe, she really did, but at this point she just wanted to detach herself from the whole situation and just Dalton in general, so her next step was moving on.

“You need to forget about him Y/N, he’s not worth it” Y/N nodded agreeing with her friend, but a part of her still felt like she lost someone really important.

“I know I do” She sighed deeply before continuing “I guess the last time we broke up I thought we would somehow find our way back to each other, you know?”

“Y/N, I love you and I know what you mean, but I just want you to think of all the times he did something shitty, and then tell me you still want him”

Y/N laughed a little, admitting to herself stupid her feelings were “You’re right”

“I know I am, dude. Go out, have fun and meet guys who are not gonna kiss someone else in New Year’s”

After a minute of silence, Y/N finally built up the courage to ask “Did you know?”

“Know what?” Chris asked in confusion.

“That Chloe and Dalton were like together together”

Chris thought about her answer for a moment, but ultimately decided there was no point in hiding it anymore “Sort of… I mean I knew he was getting invited to her parents’ house and hanging out with some of her friends” Y/N just nodded, a sad look still on her face “But it doesn’t matter because you’re over him now”

Chris encouraged her to go out with someone. Y/N wasn’t the type to approach a guy and ask for his number, so Chris offered to introduce her to one of her friends she thought Y/N could get along with. 

She met Andrew a couple of days later, and she was surprised when they immediately hit it off. He was cute and funny and really easy to talk to, so Y/N was excited when he started to take her out on dates. They were seeing each other almost every day, and Y/N even took him to her favourite coffee shop, telling him that she got her best work done there and how it was the best coffee she ever had. He chuckled at her statement but agreed with her, sharing his love for coffee too.

⋆ ★

Dalton didn’t tell Chloe what happened that night, of course he didn’t. He kept seeing her like nothing happened and she couldn’t be happier about it. 

The thing is, Chloe felt like she didn’t have him for a number of reasons, even when they started dating he was barely any special towards her. Sure, she would spend a lot of time with him and he would seek her attention, he even drew her for an art project but that was before they became a thing, and the portrait was just somewhere in his dorm. 

She would go there with him and see the wall with a bunch of paintings and drawings of Y/N, and before he told her about them she had no idea they used to date, but she couldn’t help but feel jealous that she never made the wall. 

So one day she decided to ask him to put it up “I’m your girlfriend now, don’t you think it’s time you put the drawing of me on your wall?”

“Uh” He looked at his art displayed on the wall, realising a lot of them were Y/N “I will” He simply replied, thinking he could maybe do it later, but the look Chloe gave him made him understand that she meant right now. So he did, he stood up and removed a few portraits, making space for the new one. He couldn’t bring himself to actually get rid of them, so he decided to just leave them on his desk. That was weeks before he told her about his past with Y/N.

The day after Y/N rejected him he concluded it was officially over, so his relationship with Chloe got a little more serious. Chloe properly introduced him to her parents, they started to have more dates and they even had ‘romantic’ weekends.

Days went by and Dalton tried his best to keep Y/N out of his mind, constantly telling himself that he was with Chloe now and that it was for the best. He wanted to be a better boyfriend for her but he sometimes forgot to put in the effort.

One day Dalton decided to get coffee after class, buying one for him and one for his girlfriend who was waiting for him in his dorm. After receiving his order, he turned around and was ready to walk out, but a familiar face stopped him.

He saw Y/N sitting at one of the tables, talking and giggling with some other guy. Dalton stared at them for a moment, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the cups he was holding. He decided it would be better if he left, but just as he started to walk again he noticed the guy stand up and make his way to the washroom. 

Before he could think about it, he found himself standing in front of Y/N, giving her a questioning stare, as if she owed him any explanations. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked in a demanding tone.

Y/N was both surprised and annoyed at his question. She scoffed and crossed her arms, giving him a bland tone to make him feel like she didn’t care about him “What kind of question is that?”

“I know you’re here with someone, I saw him”

“Why do you care? Aren’t you still with Chloe?” Y/N asked him, pointing at the cup with her name on it. Dalton shrugged and thought about something else to say. She had a point, he was with Chloe now so he shouldn’t care, but he did “You should probably take your girlfriend her coffee, it’s gonna get cold”

“We need to talk”

“There’s nothing left to talk about”

Before Dalton could say something, someone else joined the table “Hi, I’m Andrew” He said, sitting across from Y/N. 

“Dalton” He replied, pressing his lips together.

“He was just leaving” Y/N quickly added.

“Oh” Andrew immediately suspected she didn’t want him there “Well, nice to meet you man”

Dalton clenched his jaw, he didn’t say anything else and just gave them a quick nod before leaving the coffee shop. He was walking to his dorm and the whole time he wished he had said something clever to Andrew.

When he got to his dorm, he was received with a sweet hug and kiss from Chloe, telling him how much he has missed him. As usual, they sat on his bed and talked about their day before moving on to schoolwork. 

“So, my birthday party is this Saturday and I was thinking we could wear the same colour” Chloe said out of nowhere.

Dalton tried to hide the fact that he forgot about her birthday “Uh- yeah, what are you wearing?”

“The dress I bought last week. I told you it was for my birthday, remember?” She asked, hurt and mad he forgot such an important detail. 

He nodded his head quickly “I remember baby, I’m sorry” Dalton brought her closer to him and gave her a reassuring kiss “We’ll both look phenomenal in pink”

⋆ ★

Y/N wasn’t surprised to see Dalton, it was impossible to avoid him completely given they lived in the same building, but anytime they saw each other they just pretended the other didn’t exist, it was working just fine for Dalton until he saw her with someone else. 

Her feelings towards him definitely changed, while she still felt like she lost someone important to her, she was also disappointed at how much he had changed since the party, so they were a mix of many different things. Often she couldn’t help but wonder how different things would be if she tried harder when they were together, but at the same time she resented him for not always showing that he loved her the way she wanted him to.

“How long do we have to wait?” Andrew asked, holding his hair away from his forehead so the face mask wouldn’t stick to it.

“About 20 minutes” Y/N was smiling down at him, finishing up with the thick paste on his cheeks.

He opened his eyes and smiled back at her “Do you have like a hair thing I can borrow?”

Y/N chuckled and reached for another headband, carefully sticking all of his hair back “This is a great look on you” She joked.

They laughed as he looked at himself in the tiny mirror “I guess you’ll have to style me more often”

“I mean, you already look great all the time so I don’t think you need my help”

She watched as his smile went shy, almost sure he was blushing under the face mask. Andrew handed her the mirror and she put it back in a small vase that had a few makeup brushes in it.

“Did you make that?” Andrew asked, paying close attention to the drawings on it, recognising Y/N’s favourite flowers.

“The vase?” She asked and he nodded “Yeah, last year in a pottery class”

“A pottery class?”

“Yeah. I mean, I only went like 3 times but this is great, isn’t it?” She picked it up and examined it. It had been a long time since she did.

“May I?” Andrew grabbed it and looked at all the different colours on it “And you drew these?” He asked, pointing at the beautifully painted flowers.

“Not really, my- uh friend helped me with those, but I still did most of the job” She clarified.

“Oh…” He faked disappointment “And you had me over here thinking you were an artist”

She scoffed playfully as he took the vase from him “I am, did you see the one at the bottom?” Y/N showed him a smudged spot of paint that looked like it was supposed to be a flower “You wouldn’t get it, it’s abstract art” Andrew gave her a frisky look that made her blush  “Are you an artist?”

“Born to be but my lack of skills didn’t allow it, very tragic” Y/N giggled at his dramatics as she scooted closer to him “I can’t really draw… I mean I can, but it’s not very good” Andrew laughed “Why? Do you have a thing for artists?

A strange feeling took over her heart, but she just shook her head and forced a smile “No, just for guys that look good in headbands” She teased. Andrew felt his face get hot again and an impulse made him lean over, getting really close to her face but Y/N stopped him.

“You don’t wanna taste this face mask, it’s gonna linger for days” Andrew shrugged his shoulders and took a quick look at her lips, and then back at her eyes.

“You already have that effect on me”

Y/N was speechless. For a moment they stared at each other intensely, Y/N almost gave in, but the door swinging open made both of them jump.

“Oh- sorry to interrupt” Chris said slowly, dropping her things on her bed.

They turned red and quickly got away from each other, trying to cover their embarrassment “You didn’t, we’re just doing face masks”

“Without me?” Chris joked.

The three of them stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, and as soon as Andrew left Chris couldn’t help but tease Y/N about what she almost witnessed.

“So, I see you two are really getting along”

“I guess” Y/N replied, unsure of how to feel.

“What? Do you not like him?”

“I do… I think I do” She stopped to think about it for a moment “It’s been great but honestly i don’t know if I can take it any further”

“Y/N he’s like perfect for you” Chris stared at her friend, waiting for an explanation “Why not?”

“Because he’s not Dalton”

[snkts]

The Good Fight - Ouija & Siren

“Ah, Logan. There you are.” Charles says from Cerebreaux. His voice bounces off the walls of the room. It’s almost a perfect sphere, and it turns into an echo chamber. “Welcome home.” 

“Hey, Chuck.” Logan puts his hand on the back of Charles’ chair. “Got here as soon as I could.” Charles looks up at him with a smile.

“I appreciate your haste, old friend. I hate to interrupt your vacation, but this is a rather pressing matter.” 

“It’s fine.” Logan shakes his head. He’d been minding his own when the call came in, standing at one of his favourite seedy bars (Tony Slim’s, an unknown and unwashed gem) and playing pool. A good way to unwind and destress after missions and mansion life. (Yeah, yeah, he knows, what a hard existence he’s leading now.) But his comm had gone off, and that was more important. He’d always be there when his family needed him, and they needed him now. “Tell me about the kid.” 

“Right.” Charles looks back at the display. Rendered in blue light is an array of photographs of a young girl - a yearbook photo, family portraits. Beside them all is a neat rectangle of statistics and flashcard-style information. “Her name is Samantha Everett, from Chicago, Illinois. She just recently turned seven years old-” 

“So I’m guessing she didn’t go out for a pack of smokes.” Logan shoved his other hand in his pocket. 

“Doubtful.” Charles typed in a few commands, enlarging some of the photos. 

“Seems a little young to be getting her powers.” Logan remarked, frowning. “What kinda baggage are we looking at?” 

“Surprisingly, none.” Charles said. “We’ve already conducted interviews with her parents, teachers, and even her babysitter. As far as anyone knows, she’s a happy, healthy little girl.” 

“I’m gonna want to talk to ‘em myself.” Logan said, chewing the inside of his cheek. Charles nodded. 

“And you will.” Charles shifted, reached into his pocket, and withdrew a paper-wrapped plastic straw before holding it out. “They’re eager to meet with you.” Logan blinked at the straw, then accepted it. He raised it in a silent ‘cheers’, removed the wrapper, shoved it into his pocket, and stuck the straw between his teeth. It wasn’t nearly as good as a cigar, but if he wasn’t allowed to smoke in here, it was better than nothing. He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, chewing on the straw. 

“So, happy, healthy little girl just up and vanishes.” He mused. “With no sign of a struggle.”

“None.” Charles confirmed. “And before you ask, there’s been no sign of her on Cerebreaux, either.” He reached up and removed the helmet, resting it in his lap. “Wherever she is, she’s not using her abilities.” 

“You said she’s a telepath?” 

“Something tangential.” Charles put the helmet away and wheeled backwards out from the desk. “When my gift manifested, I was the only one hearing voices. If other people had reported the same, I may have felt less…” 

“Alone?” Logan supplied. Charles hummed and nodded. 

“Yes.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Logan plucked the straw - now thoroughly mangled - from his mouth. 

“Well, Charles?” He turned towards the door. “Might need half an hour for this one.” Charles chuckles and follows him across the catwalk. 

“Don’t tell me, you’re slowing down in your old age?” He asks, grinning and arching a brow. Logan scoffed. 

“Watch it, Junior.” But he’s laughing, too. 

***

The Blackbird touches down in what looks to be some sort of baseball field. Nothing too fancy. The sort of thing that made Little League teams feel important, but that's about it. Logan stepped off the gangplank, one hand in his pocket and the other hanging loosely at his side. He glanced around as his boots met the grass. It's empty aside from a small group of people - five of them - huddled a ways away from the jet. He could smell their anxiety even from where he stood. It was brought over to him by the breeze that ruffled the grass and plucked at his hair. The parents he would’ve recognized even without the family photos. The mom had the same straight ash-blond hair as her daughter. She got her daddy’s nose, though. The other hint that they’re the parents are the eyes. Not just the colour, though it’s the same green-hazel on the dad as stared back from the school photo. The dark bags and red rims tell it all. The scent, too. The salty, sickly-sweet smell of grief and tears. That wasn't something you could fake easily. The other three were a separate family unit. A girl - maybe seventeen, eighteen at the oldest - and her parents. Her hair was red and tightly braided, a similar shade to her father’s short crew cut. She kept clutching and releasing the too-long sleeves of her sweater. Nervous. Not afraid, nervous. And judging by how frayed her sleeves were, she’d been doing this a lot - it wasn’t a ‘new’ nervous, not brought about by his and Charles’ arrival. Her mom was a different story. Her hands were on the girl’s shoulders, and her freshly-manicured nails dug into the mint-green fabric as the two mutants approached. Logan furrows his brow but says nothing. Charles does the talking for him. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Everett,” he begins. “I’m-” 

“Professor Xavier!” Mr. Everett let go of his wife and stepped forward, shaking Charles's hand in both of his. “Thank you so much for coming. We still haven't heard anything. We’ve been worried sick, and we didn't know who else to call-”

“There's always the MRA.” The redhead’s wife sniffs. Logan scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“Not if you wanna see her again.” He says. Mrs. Everett’s heart rate spiked. 

“What?” She gasps, hand flying to her mouth. The redhead’s wife’s had a fast pulse the whole time. She shifted closer to her husband, pulling their daughter along with her. Her husband, the red head’s, scent shifted from anxious to aggressive to anxious again when Logan grinned at him. Big man didn't feel so big after all. Still big enough to open his mouth, though.

“And you are-?” The redhead clutches at his wife and daughter. 

“Logan.” Logan replies. He turns his body to face the redhead square. “Who’re you?” The redhead clenched his jaw in an attempt to rally and puffed out his chest.

“I’m Lyra’s father.” The effort to put more bass in his voice was noticeable. Logan blinked at him, one brow raised to indicate how little that meant. He glanced at the girl, then at Charles. 

“Samantha’s babysitter.” Charles supplied.

“Ah.” Logan nodded. He’d figured, but it was good to get the confirmation. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Everett.” Charles wheeled forward to once again take charge of the conversation. “Logan is the one I told you about over the phone. You would be hard pressed to find a better tracker.”

“There isn’t one.” Logan said, crossing his arms. “Doesn't matter where she is, I’ll find her.” Mr. and Mrs. Everett smiled.

“Thank you.” Mrs. Everett says, reaching to hug her husband’s arm. 

“If there’s ever anything-” Mr. Everett begins, but Logan cuts him off with a raised hand. 

“Save it for when the kid’s back watchin’ Saturday morning cartoons.” And then he rocks his weight back, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Now, how’s about we get outta this field and talk somewhere more private?” 

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Mr. Everett nods. “We actually live just across the street from the stadium. That’s why we suggested meeting here.” The couple turns to go, Lyra and her family at their heels. Charles and Logan follow behind, Logan matching his pace with Charles's, never straying from his side. It takes a concentrated effort to let Charles into his mind, but he can manage enough to get his point across. 

Babysitter’s parents seem shady, he thought. I don’t trust them. 

They do not trust you either, old friend. Charles’s voice in his head. They’re quite suspicious of the both of us. 

Figures. Logan struggled not to scoff out loud. Think we’re gonna have to worry about a phone call? 

Perhaps we will. The thought has crossed their minds once or twice. Charles mused. We’ll have to be alert.

Always am. Logan returned, then relaxed as his mind closed and he put more of his focus into the world around them. The wind through the faint trees scattered at the park’s edge, and the residential yards across the street. Birds chirping - robins, sparrows, chickadees. The hum of insects, the rustle of their footsteps, the sound of a dog panting a few streets away. A nice, quiet neighbourhood. So painfully upper-middle-class that the lack of white picket fences felt like an oversight. Given the time of day, most people were out, as demonstrated by the many empty driveways. Didn’t stop a few nosy neighbours from peeking through their blinds, but that wasn't surprising. As long as they kept out of his way, Logan would pay them no mind. 

They approached a quaint little two-story bungalow, white siding and blue shutters, flower boxes under the window. The path up to the front door was cobblestone, greys and sandy browns framed on either side by perfectly manicured grass. There was a single step up to a small concrete porch that was barely larger than the front door. Logan lagged behind just long enough to ensure Charles got up alright before joining everyone inside. 

“Nice place.” He comments. Mr. Everett shoots him a long-suffering look. 

“The next door neighbour is HOA president.” He said. Logan let out a noise that was half sympathy, half amusement.

“You poor bastard.” He says, shaking his head in sympathy. Mr. Everett nods, and his shoulders relax a bit. Good. If they were calm, they’d give better intel. Might be easier for Charles to sort through, too. They stepped through the foyer to the family room, wide and spacious, a cream carpet, white walls that were covered in photos and paintings. There’s a fireplace, and the mantle is covered in more pictures, some figurines - animals, mostly, one or two that looked like Disney princesses. At least one that was some unrecognisable lump of clay, probably made by a grade schooler. Three guesses who, and the first two don’t count. 

“What about you?” Logan asks. Lyra’s parents look up from where they’ve settled themselves on a loveseat. “You live around here?” 

“The street behind this one.” Lyra speaks up suddenly. Logan shifts his attention to her. She’s small, and skinny. A smattering of freckles across her nose. Her hair pulled into two braids, done tightly and bound in elastics. And still pulling on her sweater sleeves. It’s a miracle the damn things hadn’t fallen off. “And a few houses down. I used to come in through the back gate when I…” She trailed off and looked around, realising people were staring at her. She ducked her head to hide from the attention. Logan glanced at Charles, then stepped around the glass-topped coffee table to crouch in front of Lyra. 

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He says gently. “Anything you can tell us helps. That gate you mentioned - anyone else use it?” 

“Just us.” Mrs. Everett comes out of the kitchen with a tray of glasses. Lemonade, by the smell of it. Store bought - too artificial to be home-made - but a nicer brand - real lemons and sugar. “There's a lock on the back. We have the key, Ted and Aimie and Lyra have a key,” she nodded to indicate Lyra and her parents, “and my mother has a key. And Jack’s father.” After setting the tray down, she put her hand on her husband’s arm. 

“But neither of our parents live in town.” Mr. Everett - Jack - says, bending over to lift some of the glasses from the tray. He passes one to Charles, who accepts it with a smile and a quiet ‘thank you’, then one to Lyra’s father, Ted. Then he passes a glass to his wife, then Aimie, then holds one out to Logan. Logan eyes it, then looks back at Jack with a raised eyebrow. 

“Wouldn't happen to have a beer, would’ya?” He asked. Jack sighs and pushes his free hand through his hair. 

“I could go for a beer.” Jack mumbles. He turns and heads past a marble-top counter into the kitchen. There's the sound of a fridge opening, a clinking rustling noise, and Jack returns with two bottles held between his fingers.

“Cheers.” Logan says as he accepts his drink. Jack nods. 

“We have a bottle opener around here somewhere…” He turns, and Logan huffs. 

“So do I.” His claws extend with a snikt from them and a gasp from the humans. He wedges the blade under the bottle cap and twists his wrist. The cap flies off. He catches it, retracts his claws, and stuffs it in his pocket as he tips the beer back. 

“So.” Charles says pleasantly, sipping his own drink. “What can you tell us about your daughter?” 

“Oh, uh…” Mrs. Everett blinks, closing her mouth. Then she collects herself. “Well, she’s very shy. She has some friends, she does well in school… She’s a normal little girl.” Logan didn't miss the look Ted and Aimie exchanged. He glared at them. 

“Got something to say?” The edge in his voice made them flinch. 

“Just that-” Aimie starts, then stops. Ted puts his hand on her shoulder. 

“Normal little girls don't do the things she does.” He’s trying to be defiant.

Cute. 

Logan growls. In the same moment, Mrs. Everett stands. 

“There is nothing wrong with her!” She snaps. 

“Marcy-!” Jack cautions, putting his hand on her arm. 

“Everyone, please!” Charles spoke up. Logan settled somewhat and took another swig of beer. The humans quieted too. Charles paused to have a sip of lemonade. “I understand that emotions are running high right now. A child has been taken. It is only natural that you might feel stressed or defensive. But the best way we can help you right now is through rational discussion. The more information Logan and I get, the sooner we can ensure Samantha is brought home safely. That is what we all want, correct?” A silence. Jack and Marcy nod, Lyra nods, and after a beat, so do Ted and Aimie. Charles nods as well. “Very good.” He set his glass down on the coffee table, minding the coaster. “Now, let us resume our discussion. We’ve brought up Samantha’s gift multiple times, now. Could you explain to us what that is?” Marcy nodded, then slowly pried herself off of her husband and sat in an armchair. Jack rested his hands on the back of the chair. 

“We thought it was Lyra, at first.” Marcy begins. 

“But it wasn’t.” Aimie says, grabbing at her daughter’s hand. Lyra looks up at her, then back at the floor. Logan grunted. 

“Wait your turn.” That quieted Aimie down, even if her face looked like she wanted to say some non-PTA-approved words. Tough luck. Marcy, by contrast, smiled. Her shoulders loosened and her heart rate slowed just a touch. She was grateful. Another good thing. 

“She told us she heard voices. And we were alarmed, but-” 

“Not-” Lyra started, then clamped her mouth shut as her scent spiked with fear. But Logan just looked at her and tilted his head curiously. She swallowed and tried again. “Not voices. Just one voice.” 

“Whose?” Logan asked, facing her fully. She started pulling at her sleeves again, letting go of her mother’s hand in favour of fiddling. 

“My Nana’s.” She says, then blinks. “Um, my grandmother on my mom’s side. Her name was Nancy, and she, um…” 

“My mother passed five years ago.” Aimie said, putting her arms around her daughter’s shoulders. 

“Heart failure.” Ted supplies. Charles nods and folds his hands in his lap with a sympathetic hum. 

“I’m sorry. And you said you heard her voice, Lyra? Could you elaborate on that?” He asks, and she nods. 

“I was walking Sammy home from school like I do every day. We have one of those weird schools where it’s mostly a high school, but then there’s a bit at the back for the elementary schoolers.” 

“It’s a private school.” Jack cuts in. “It’s smaller, but they teach the kids how to sign, and Sammy’s mute, so we thought it’d be good for her to be around people who could actually communicate.” 

“Mute, huh?” Logan chewed at his lip. “So, chances are she didn’t call out when she got taken. Keep going, kid.” Lyra nods, even though she keeps her eyes on the floor. 

“We got to the back gate, and I unlocked it for her. And she always wanted a high five before we said ‘bye’. It’s our thing.” She twisted the fabric some more. Her breathing hitched. “So I did, and…” She sniffles. Logan tilts his head and crouches down, setting his beer on the table. 

“And what, darlin’?” He asked. (Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Charles lean forward and slide a coaster under the beer bottle.) 

“I heard my Nana.” Her voice was even quieter now. “Loud and clear. She told me to tell my grandpa not to go in his car, because his breaks were broken. And I got freaked out, so once Sammy was in her yard, I closed the gate and ran home.” 

“She told us about what she heard.” Ted says quietly. “At the time, we thought maybe it was some kind of divine intervention.” Logan cast a glance back at Charles, who nodded subtly. That fucking figured. When mutants do weird things, it’s a curse, a disease, something to be fixed and cured and punished. But when it was their own kid? It was an act of God. A miracle. (Until it got too much to handle - then it was back to being a curse again.) 

“I didn’t know what to think.” Aimie says. “I just mentioned it to my dad because I was worried. He checked the breaks to reassure her, but-” 

“But they were actually broken.” Logan finished. Aimie nodded. 

“Just like she said.” 

“We didn’t know about any of that at the time.” Jack said, squeezing the back of Marcy’s chair tightly. “We thought it was strange that Lyra didn’t come say hello like she normally does when she drops Sammy off, but thought maybe she was just busy. Nothing to comment on, you know? So I picked Sammy up to hug her hello, and one of my old war buddies was suddenly talking about being cold.” 

“Us Army,” Charles offers. 

“Canadian Special Forces.” Logan said. 

“Marines.” Jack replies, easing his grip. “Swanson was his name, Fred Swanson. KIA. He just kept saying, ‘It’s cold here, kid.  It’s real cold’.” Marcy reached up to put her hand on her husband’s. She gave his fingers a squeeze. The tense look on his face and shift in his scent hinted that he needed the comfort. 

“Do you believe he was speaking to you?” Charles asked.

“No.” Jack didn't hesitate. “Fred never called me ‘kid’. We were the same age. He called me Jackie.” 

“I heard my grandmother.” Marcy said. “She was just singing. The same songs she used to sing when she was gardening.” 

“I see.” Charles frowns. “And what did you do?” 

“Got us out of the house.” Jack shrugs. “I thought we were hearing things. I thought- I thought maybe there was something wrong with our carbon monoxide detector. So I got us out and called the emergency number to get someone to come check it, and everything came back clean.” 

“But it kept happening?” Logan prompted. Marcy, Jack, Aimie, and Ted nodded. 

“Not the same voices.” Marcy said. “Different ones, every time.” 

“And it was every time.” Jack picks his beer bottle off the counter he’d set it on and takes a pull. “Every time we touched her, or she touched us. It didn’t stop. I would’ve thought I went crazy if Marcy wasn’t hearing it too.” Logan frowned, looking over at Charles. 

“That’s not a telepath.” He says. 

“No, it isn't.” Charles steeples his fingers and furrows his brow. “At least, not the typical sort. I can understand how that might have been troubling to you. Did you tell anyone else?” 

“We called around to different resources.” Marcy said. “That's how we found out about your school. We emailed you not long after.” Charles nodded but said nothing. 

“So how else do you factor in?” Logan looks to Lyra. 

“I was the last person to see Sammy before she vanished.” She said, her voice cracking. “But I didn’t do anything! I swear, I-” Charles held up a hand. 

“It’s alright, Lyra.” He soothes her, cradling his glass of lemonade. “I know for a fact you did nothing wrong. This is just part of our investigation.” Lyra nods again. “Just tell us what you saw.” 

“She was just playing in the backyard.” Lyra said, graduating to chewing on the ends of her sleeve. “I was worried. She hadn't been to school in a while and nobody knew why, we just heard she was sick.” Logan and Charles glanced at Jack and Marcy. 

“We pulled her out of school.” Marcy said, fiddling with one of her earrings. “We didn't want people knowing she was a mutant until we had the, ah, resources, to handle her- gift.” 

“So I hadn't been walking her home, and it kinda felt… It was weird. I guess I missed her.” Jack smiled at this, sad though it was, and Marcy reached out to take Lyra’s hand. Lyra accepts the gesture in spite of the look Ted and Aimie exchange. “So when I was passing by their house, I just… Looked over the fence.” She grimaced and let go of Marcy’s hand. “Oh, god. That makes me sound like a creep. But I looked in, and I saw her, and she was just playing. She had her dollhouse and her bike and a few other things. And she was just playing. So I called to her and waved hello and she waved back. I tried to get her to come high five me, like we always did, but she didn’t want to. Guess I know why.” She shrugs and pulls her knees to her chest, locking her arms around her legs. “We had a conversation for a little bit. Nothing really important. I was asking how she was feeling, she was telling me about the story she came up with for her dolls. Something about a senate that got infiltrated, and trying to find who the bad guy was. She did that one a lot. And then I got a phone call, and I looked away for a bit, and when I looked back, she-” Lyra’s voice broke and she buried her face in her knees, holding herself tighter. “She was gone.” 

“Who called you?” Logan asked. Lyra kept her face buried and shrugged. Logan waited. Eventually, she spoke again. 

“Brian Casey.” She mumbled. When she looks up, her face is bright red, and her pulse is elevated. “He’s, um, a boy from school. We talked for a minute or two, and I turned to wave bye to Sammy, and I didn’t see her.” 

“Was there anything strange about the phone call?” Charles asked. Lyra nodded. 

“Yeah. I asked Brian about it the next day, and he had no idea what I was talking about.” Her face twisted into a frustrated frown. “But I know it was him. We even talked about a chemistry assignment we’d done together.” 

“But he denied it the next morning?” Charles pressed. 

“According to him, it never happened. … And there was nothing in either of our call logs.” Charles and Logan stared at each other. They both nod. 

“That’s all I need to hear.” Logan crossed his arms and rocked his weight back on his heels. Then he looks back to Jack and Marcy. “You got anything important to her I can take with me? A stuffed animal, a blanket…?” 

“Part of Logan’s gift is enhanced senses.” Charles explains. “Bloodhounds are quite envious of his ability to follow a scent.” 

“If it’s something that makes her feel safe, it might help me get her to come out if she’s hiding.” Logan adds. 

“Oh.” Marcy says as the humans glance between each other. Then she stands up. “I think I know just the thing.” She steps around the chair, manoeuvres around Charles with a quiet ‘’scuse me’, and heads up the wooden staircase by the door to get to the house’s second level. Logan tilts his head, following her footsteps, the creak of the door, the pad of socks on carpet, her mumbling, the quiet ‘there you are’ when she finds what she needs.  And then she retraces her steps and joins them in the sitting room again.

“Here.” She held out a shapeless, threadbare blob of fabric that had, at one point, been a plush lion. “This is Thimble. I-” She flushed. “I had a hard time saying ‘Simba’ when I was little. Sammy sleeps with him every night.” 

“That works.” Logan reached out and took the toy in one hand. He glanced over to Lyra and added, “You said the last place anyone saw her was the back yard?” Lyra nodded. Logan smirked. “Half an hour.”

“What?” Ted asked. Logan was already moving past them to the sliding glass door in the back of the kitchen. 

“That’s how long it's gonna take me to find the kid.”

“But she's been missing for three days.” That was Jack. Logan didn't turn around.

“I know.” He said, pushing the door open. “That's why I gave myself extra time.”

****

Finding the scent had been easy. It was all over the place. And yeah, it matched the scent that clung to the toy, Thimble, so he had double confirmation it was her. The artificial fruit scent of children's shampoo, goat’s milk, sidewalk chalk, grass and dandelions, petrichor, something not-quite but similar to ozone, the worn rubber of her shoes that was just a bit burnt from the lights that would come on when she stomped, bananas, washable markers, and granite. A little bit of sweat, which made sense if she’d been playing outside, but no fear. Highly unusual for a kidnapping victim. Her scent travelled alongside another, one he didn't recognize. That was bad enough. What made it even worse was that it carried traces of a scent he DID know. Oily-slick and painfully artificial, like pouring cologne on a chemical spill. Rot and rebirth, cold metal, blood. 

Sinister. 

If he was involved, a half hour search was probably too long. Fucking hell. His Harley, retrieved from the jet, roared down the street. The suburbs had long since fallen away. The buildings here were crowded together, businesses hunched under apartments and jostling for an inch of breathing room. He wrinkled his nose and growled. He hated places like this. Noisy, smelly, chaotic headaches. The perfect places to get lost in. well, not on his watch. 

The trail led him to a bus terminal. It was empty now, but they had definitely been here. Logan cut the ignition and kicked the stand into place, swinging off the bike. He glanced around and sniffed the air. Yup, there was Sammy’s scent, and the other one, too. Leather and hand sanitizer, hair gel, gunpowder and gun oil (the good stuff, too, nothing cheap), lemon and honey and tea leaves, wintergreen mint and nail polish, glacial ice, adrenaline and blood and Sinister. Who the hell was this? And where had they gone? 

There was a schedule on the wall. Laminated paper, sun-bleached but legible, detailing the routes each bus took. Logan grunted and ripped the sheet off the wall. Could be useful. He studied it a moment longer, then looked up and around. … There was a newspaper stand across the street. Logan was quietly amazed that those still existed. It was a hole-in-the-wall, probably part of the convenience store with the barred windows, with road sign-yellow paint on the counter and the signage. A far cry from the Everett’s suburb. Logan cast a quick glance in either direction then crossed the street, taking off his helmet and cradling it under his arm. The kid leaning against the counter can’t be more than late 20s. Long hair, stubble that was probably meant to be a beard. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and fixed Logan with a disinterested stare as he approached. His nametag introduced him as Jeremy, and that he was a ‘proud employee’ of Luckee Mart. Congratulations, Jeremy.

“Hey.” Logan said, stopping in front of the counter. Jeremy said nothing, only raised his eyebrow. That was fine; Logan would do the talking for both of them. “I’m looking for a kid. You seen this girl?” He slaps Sammy’s school photo - printed off before they even left the mansion - down on the counter. Jeremy props his face on his fist and looks down. 

“You a cop?” He asks, and Logan grimaces before shaking his head. 

“Hell no. Private investigator.” He taps his finger against the photo. “Her parents really want her home.” Jeremy looks down at the photo. His brow furrows, his heart rate picks up, and his scent shifts to nervousness and fear. Oh, okay. He was about to start lying. He takes a drag of his cigarette and holds it out to the side, tapping the ash off. 

“Never seen her.” He said, leaning his weight to the side in an attempt to appear casual, confident. Logan sneers. 

“Listen, bub.” He says. The cockiness vanishes from Jeremy’s face when Logan lifts him, one handed, by the front of his shirt and snatches the cigarette away. “You can keep talking outta your ass if you want, but I got three things you should consider first. One.” His first claw slid out, close enough that the flat pressed against the punk’s cheek. “Two.” The second claw slid out along the other side of his face. “Three.” the third, central, claw extended just enough to press into the soft underside of Jeremy’s chin. Jeremy’s eyes were wide, frantic, and brown. Same brown as his hair. Same brown as his jeans were gonna be, too. 

“Wait! Wait wait wait, shit man, wait! You’re a- You’re a fuckin’ mutant?!” 

“Nothin’ gets by you.” Logan grunted. “Where's the girl?”

“She took a bus!” Jeremy yelped, scrabbling at the counter and Logan’s wrist. Logan growls his frustration and tightens his grip. 

“I know that, numbnuts.” He snapped. “When and what direction?” 

*I don’t know!” Jeremy tilted his head back even further, trying to get as far away from the claws as he could. “I-I was just coming back from my lunch break, so I dunno, like- Noon? Noon-ish? And they went off towards McKellen street– Uh, that way!” He pointed. 

“They?” Logan pressed. Jeremy started to nod, then thought better of it when he felt cold adamantium against his neck. 

“Yeah, she was with someone. A woman. She was kinda freaky-looking, but still a babe, y’know? Really tall, hair slicked back, some kinda… Body armor type deal. And she was strapped, man, like- Guns and shit? I was surprised they let her on the bus. You ever seen Kill Bill? Or the Matrix? Like that- Hey!” Logan shakes him once. 

“Focus, kid!” He snaps. “How long ago was this?” 

“I dunno!” Jeremy shakes his head frantically. “I dunno! Two days ago? Three? Something like that!” Logan growls his frustration and drops Jeremy back down, retracting his claws. He wasn’t going to get anything else from this guy. No point wasting his time. He kept the kid’s cigarette, though, and held it between his teeth, inhaling deep. Then his frown deepens as he lets the smoke out from his lips. 

“What is this? You smoke Pall Mall?” … He still took another drag as he referred back to the bus schedule. Logan shook his head. “Switch to Camels. You’ll thank me later.” He rolls the bus schedule up and stuffs it into his belt to hang onto, just in case, and makes sure to swipe the school picture as well. He crosses the street again, puts on his helmet, and swings onto his bike. The engine takes just long enough to cut on that Logan gets to hear Jeremy’s bewildered ‘What the fuck just happened?’ as he drives away.

*****

They’d left the city.  They hadn’t gone far, but they were past the limits. He’d picked up the scent at one of the bus stops marked on the map. That hadn’t been difficult. There was only one bus that matched Jeremy’s estimated scheduling: the 632. From there, he’d figured out the stops in order, and had taken alleyways and side streets to check each one off faster until he hit paydirt. Then it was just tracking. Tracking, and breaking a few traffic laws. Not like he cares - if the cops ever got on his tail, they'd have to catch him, first. 

“Hey, Chuck.” Logan said, flicking his comm on. 

“Logan!” Charles's voice is bright and pleasant. “I was wondering when we might hear from you. Good news, I imagine?”

“Yeah.” Logan took a right turn. “I’m close. The scent's blowing pretty fresh. I’d say I’m roughly three minutes out from her location.” 

“Already?” That was Jack’s voice, muffled by distance. Logan grinned. 

“I told ya, thirty minutes to find her.” He says. He slows his bike and comes to a stop, bracing his feet on the gravel road. “But your police force must be shit. Nobody checked the…” He squinted at the weather-beaten sign in front of him. “Steel mill?” 

“He’s at Flagship?” Jack still sounds surprised. “But…”

“But why would she be there?” Marcy’s voice, equally surprised. 

“No idea.” Logan grunted. “But as long as I get her back safe and sound, who cares? I’ll call back when I’ve got her.” He shut the commlink off. If he was being honest, the ‘why’ did matter, and he was curious about it, but he was on a time crunch - both for the limit he’d set for himself, and the kid’s safety. They could chat and theorise when she was home. 

He elected to leave his motorcycle behind. It would make too much noise on the approach. Best to go it on foot. He circled through the grass, stepping past what remained of a chain link fence and avoiding the main entrance. That'd be too obvious. Besides, the scent didn't lead to there. Whoever took the kid also didn't use the front door. 

That was interesting. 

They skipped most of the broken windows, too. Could be a couple reasons for that. Reason one: The kid couldn’t get that high. That would suggest that whoever took her wasn’t carrying her - which in turn suggested Sammy had gone willingly, or had been coerced to follow. Reason two: For whatever reason, the KIDNAPPER couldn’t get through the windows. Could be because they were too big to fit. At first listen to Jeremy’s story, that didn't sound right. He’d described a woman, and those windows were pretty damn big. But Logan didn't know this person. If they were a mutant, and he was assuming they were until otherwise proven wrong, they might have some sort of shape shifting power. Maybe the woman wasn't their real form. Maybe they had increased weight for another reason (better not be chomping his flavour).

Maybe they just couldn't jump that high. 

He stopped just behind the steel mill, staring at what probably used to be a loading bay. He was around a corner, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Coast looked clear. He could hear talking, but it was too distant to be at the door. He counted one voice- No, wait. … Why did it sound like so many more people all of a sudden? He swore, he SWORE he’d only heard two heartbeats a moment ago. Only two sets of breathing. And he didn't smell sulphur, so what in the fuck-? He narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air once, twice. Three times. He smelled rust, and dirt, and decay, mould and mildew and wildlife, petrichor and rotting paint, crumbling wood, and… 

And…

What the fuck? 

Why did it smell like the forest? … And why did he recognize those voices? 

This is a goddamn trap. 

He growls low in his chest, bares his teeth at nothing in particular. This is a trap, and it makes no sense. The people he hears, smells, can't possibly be there. And if there's a trap, that means whoever was behind this - whether they were just in league with Sinister or it was the man himself - knew someone was following them. If it had been tailored to him, they knew he was coming, specifically. But he was three days and a few police calls behind, and he'd gotten on the trail as soon as he'd heard all the relevant Intel. How could they know…? 

Fuck it. Screw the door, screw the loading bay, he was going in through one of those windows after all. He retraced his steps at speed - if they knew he was here, there was less point in being stealthy - braced his feet against the concrete and jumped. His hands caught the edge of the window. Glass bit into the leather of his gloves. Sliced into his hands. He swung up and over, using the windowsill as a pivot point. By the time he let go, the cuts were already healed, and he landed on the ground and woke up.

… Had he been sleeping? It felt like he had. Logan screwed his eyes shut and groaned, grinding his face into the heel of his hand. His head hurts. He hears the sound of chatter, and opens his eyes. … He's on a bench. On a bench, at the institute. His favourite bench, the one near the treeline. He frowns. Breathes in. The air is clean and fresh. Wasn't he just doing something? Or had it been another dream? Another nightmare? Another lost memory trying to bleed through to the surface? He blinked a couple times, trying to clear his vision. Something flew at his head- His arm snapped up- snatched it out of the air-

A frisbee. 

Bright red plastic with a black ‘X’ emblazoned on the top, marking it as property of the Institute. 

“Sorry, Logan!” A young voice called. Logan looked up, still clutching the frisbee. There, waving and giggling sheepishly, was a group of familiar faces. Pyro, Drake, Rogue, Kitty, Jubilee, and Colossus. Kitty was the one who had spoken. She stopped waving to rock onto her toes, then back down. “Can you throw it back?” He studies it a moment longer - does the weight feel different, or is he still waking up? - then shrugs and gives it a toss. It flies in a clean, precise arc, and Drake jumps to catch it.

“Thanks!” He yells back. Logan nods. 

“You need t’ work on your aim, petite.” That voice is also familiar, and he looks over to see Gambit propped against a lamp post, shuffling his cards. “You missed.”

“She throws better than you, Gumbo.” Logan huffs, standing and stretching. His back pops and he grunts. 

“You break Gambit’s heart, homme.” Gambit says, pausing his shuffling to put the back of his hand to his forehead. “I bake for you, and you talk t’ me like dat?” Logan rolls his eyes, but the ghost of a smirk belies his amusement.

“Don’t forget who pulled your ass outta the deep freeze, ‘homme’.” He crosses his arms loosely and looks back at the kids. “Whadda’ya want?”

“Gambit? He wants for nothin’.” Gambit returns to his cards. “Storm was lookin’ for you, though.” 

“Storm?” Logan glanced over, and Gambit nodded. Logan let out a curious hum, then set off back towards the mansion, tossing a ‘thanks’ over his shoulder. As he stepped out from the shade, he was awash in warm, buttery sunshine. It was warm enough to be nice, but not overbearing, and the breeze that carried the scent of flowers and fresh-cut grass was the perfect equaliser between hot and cold. The lawn crunched under his boots as he walked. The voices of the frisbee game drew slightly softer as he approached the front of the grounds. There was a deeper sound. A low, baritone rumbling, growing louder and louder and Logan sprang back just as a red sports car zoomed into the circular driveway. 

“Jesus, Slim!” Logan shouted, regaining his footing. “Eyes up!” 

“Oh, man, sorry Logan!” Scott climbed out of the car with his shoulders hunched and his hand in front of his mouth, the universal posture for ‘I fucked up’. This was echoed in his scent, which was spiked with adrenaline and worry. “I didn't see you there. It’s just, Jean and I were planning this field trip for the kids, to the natural history museum. There’s this travelling exhibit that's coming to town, one about folklore and sea monsters and how that connects to different real-life sea creatures, and we thought it could be a creative tie-in for the mutant history class and how-”

“What Scott means is,” Jean steps out of the car and cuts Scott off with a hand on his shoulder and a fond smile. “We’ll pay more attention next time. Are you alright?” 

“I’m always alright, Red.” Logan said, then glanced to Scott, who was fiddling with his glasses nervously. “But I’m holding this against you, next time ya try to kick me outta the pilot seat.”

“That's fair.” Scott’s shoulders relaxed and his grin became more casual. “Sorry again, Logan.” Logan turned to leave, but only managed a few paces before Jean spoke up again. 

“Actually, we were hoping to run into you.” She said, taking an imploring step forward just as Logan turned back again.

“Almost did.” He huffs, and Scott sulks. Jean ignores them both and continues. 

“We were hoping to ask if you and Mariko would like to chaperone with us.” 

“Mariko?” He repeated, breath caught in his throat. No. No, that wasn't possible. He couldn't ask Mariko, because she was-

Just fine. She was fine. She was fine because she'd been there when he'd gone back to her home. She’d been waiting, safe and sound. And he’d dealt with the other Yakuza, and everyone else, and she’d finished disentangling her family from crime. It had been a long and arduous process. Some people had resisted at first. But in the end, she’d persisted, and eventually succeeded. The Yashida clan was respected under her lead. And she’d come to visit as a vacation from the constant work that came with running a family.

“Yeah.” Scott nodded. “The kids really like her. And, besides, we know she’s not going to be here much longer before she goes back to Japan. We thought she might like seeing a bit of American folklore before she goes home.” 

“She might.” Logan nods slowly, then screws his eyes shut and rubs at his temple again, teeth grit tight. “I’ll- I’ll ask.” 

“What's wrong?” Jean asked, signalling her concern in the tilt of her head and the furrow of her brow. Logan shook his head and stepped back. 

“Just a headache. I’ll be fine.” He says, muffling a growl in the back of his throat. “If I see her around, I’ll ask.” And now he did walk away. His head hurt more now. This isn’t right. None of this is right. It doesn’t make sense - why doesn’t it make sense? He was still glaring at the dirt when little footsteps scurried by him. A young girl, running across the lawn. She was about seven or eight, with straight, ash-blond hair and… Green eyes. She was very familiar. Of course she was familiar, she was a student, wasn’t she? Had to be. But there’s still  something– Movement behind– He turned– 

Caught Victor Creed’s arm by the wrist. (Wait-) Victor looked down at him with a bemused expression. 

“Uh, boo?” He blinked, waggling the fingers of his free hand in a half-assed parody of an old-school movie monster. Logan released his arm, and Victor let it drop to his side. “Hell’s got you all jumpy for?” 

“What the fuck, Creed?” Logan grumbled, loosely crossing his arms over his chest. His head felt like it was about to split open. 

“What?” Victor sniffed, adopting a similar posture. “Can’t a guy come ask if his partner wants to go for a hunt?” Logan tilted his head in confusion. 

“Hunting? Now? … What time is it?” Both he and Victor looked up at the sun. It hung contentedly in the middle of the sky. The ferals looked back down as Victor pulled a smart phone from his pants pocket. He tapped his thumb on the almost comically undersized screen. 

“Three-thirty.” He says, stuffing the phone back and away. Logan took a half step back. He scratches at the back of his head, then twists his hand in the hair that grows from the nape of his neck as though that can hold the sides of his skull together when it feels like they’re trying to rip apart. 

“I… Have a class to teach.” He says it slowly, like he's trying to remind himself of the fact. It’s three thirty, and he's pretty sure it's Friday, so-

Victor laughs.

“Boy howdy, that must’ve been some nap.” He grins and picks at his fangs with a claw, peeling off a shedding layer. “You put your brats up to it, remember? Said they gotta… Earn their stripes, or, somethin’. I wasn't listening.” He pulls his hand away from his mouth to examine his nails. Satisfied, he gives his claws a quick extension-retraction, then props his hands on his hips and grins. “And before ya’ ask, yes, you're still on Earth, but Bugs Bunny is president.” Logan turned and walked away, shaking his head. 

“Thank God I’m Canadian.” 

“You guys got Daffy.” Victor called to his retreating back. “And what about our hunt?”

“Later.” Logan replied, waving him off. “I gotta find Storm.” And so, he continued around the perimeter of the mansion. With every step, his head hurt more and more. Maybe this was why he'd asked the kids to cover for him. He was so distracted by the pain in his skull that he only narrowly avoided Lockheed, swooping low to bring something to Kitty. Logan didn't know what it was, and shot a few curses at the tiny dragon as it flew off. Maybe Kitty oughtta invest in some pint-sized glasses. He’s still grumbling to himself when he rounds another corner, and what he sees is enough to  dissipate his bad mood instantly. 

There they were.

His kids - or, three of them, at least. The ones that looked like him. Akihiro, Laura, and Gabby. Even from here, he could hear what they were saying. It was a tracking lesson. Laura and Akihiro were explaining how to read broken undergrowth to determine approximate weight, speed, and direction of moving prey. Gabby was holding up Jonathan, who was chittering contentedly. Apparently, she was gonna take the oversized rat and they were both gonna hide themselves somewhere in the woods. It was a good drill - real world practice in a low-stress setting. He’d done it plenty of times before. Sometimes they’d have to find him. Sometimes it’d be someone else. Sometimes he’d just stash a random object and have them bring it back to him. And now his kids were using the same lesson. 

So they did listen to him, after all. 

And seeing that - seeing them, happy and safe and together - brings a smile to his face, even despite the throbbing behind his eyes and what the FUCK was wrong with his head?! He snarls to himself, squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes his head, clutching at the roots of his hair. His vision blurs and he squints. … That girl’s there again. The little one whose name he can't remember. She's hiding behind Mikoto, clutching at her leg and peering out. Mikoto doesn't react. That's weird for a lot of reasons. Mikoto liked kids - she was great with the younger students. He’d heard her refer to herself as their ‘big sister' countless times, and they adored her right back. She’d never ice one of them out. And, hold on, why was the kid even in that class? The rest of the students there were teenagers, and if they were doing field tests, this was steering towards the advanced track-

“Logan! There you are.” A voice interrupts the latest snarl of frustration before he can finish it, and he looks up. There's a trace of desperation in his eyes as he seeks her out. Her.

Storm.

Ironically, she'd always been a calming presence in his life, from the moment he met her. Her and Charles, who, speak of the devil, is at her side. They approach him with smiles that falter when they catch sight of his expression.

“What's wrong, old friend?” Charles asked, steepling his fingers in his lap. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I dunno, Chuck.” He took a moment before looking up again. “My head fuckin’ hurts, and I swear, something just ain't right about today. Can't put my finger on it.” Storm frowned in sympathy.

“You're stressed, Logan. This is exactly why we suggested you take the day off.”

… Oh yeah. They had told him to do that, hadn't they? Said he’d been pushing himself too hard and no matter how he argued - and he’d argued - they’d insisted. And now he was here. … Was that right? It felt- At least, it made-

“You still seem tired. Though I’m not surprised to find you watching over the students again, I assure you, Logan. They will be fine while you take some time for yourself.” Charles’s expression is equal parts fond and exasperated, the guiding hand that he always is. So why does this…? 

“Cajun said you were looking for me.” Logan mumbled, once again blinking against the discomfort.

“I was.” Storm confirmed. “Though I told him not to wake you if you were resting. I hope he listened.”

“Does he ever?” Logan rolled his neck to one side. It doesn't help. Storm tutted and rolled her eyes.

“That man.” She huffed. Logan grunted. 

“What'd ya need, Storm?” He asked. She blinked and stood a bit straighter.

“Oh! Yes. I was about to head to the greenhouse. There are some plants I need to prune, so I was wondering if you might lend a hand. It’s been far too long since we’ve had some time to really catch up.”

“Y’know what?” Logan managed a smile. “That’d be nice.” 

Snikt.

“Except you're not Storm.” 

And he drove his claws into her abdomen. She let out a shocked, pained gasp. It echoes off the walls of the loading bay, shattering the quiet that remained once the constant droning was gone. Already, his head started to feel better. The little girl - Sammy - toppled over from behind the guard rail. She shook her head like she was coming out of a daze. And the woman on his claws staggered back, olive face ashy and grey eyes wide. 

“H-how-?” She sputtered. Logan pulled free, but didn't sheath the blades. Blood dripped onto the concrete, and it smelled real and it smelled heavenly. 

“You’re good, sister, I'll give ya’ that.” He said, stepping a slow circle, stopping only when he stood between her and Sammy. The woman looked up, sweat coating her brow and making her slicked-back brown hair look even shinier. (Fuck, she was younger than he expected. Probably had a good few years before she even hit thirty.) “Not too many people can get anywhere near my head. But you made one huge mistake.” He held up his index finger. “Things never go that smooth when I’m around.”

“...Wait.” The woman slowed the desperate scrabbling she’d been doing through her belt pouches, and looked at him with what he sure hoped, for her sake, wasn't concern. “Are you saying you broke through my illusion and evaded all my attempts at killing you… Because you think it's unrealistic for you to be HAPPY?!” Logan let his shoulders sag as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, for fuck’s- What are you, my therapist?” And when he looked back at her, she had a syringe in her hand. The scent of Sinister got stronger. “Wait, the hell is-”

She pressed the plunger down and gasped like she'd been pulled out of ice water. He lunges. She jumps back.

“Do you have a therapist?” Her voice was still unsteady, but she grinned, flashing bloody teeth. The flow of blood from her stomach had stopped. “Cause if not, I can probably help you find one. And when you get there, you can tell ‘em Siren sent-” She yelped and leaped out of the way of the concrete slab that shattered against the wall. “Hey! Rude!”

“Shut your damn mouth.” Logan growled and lunged again. She - Siren, really? Another one? - drew a pistol from her belt and fired. Logan ghosted the first three with little effort, but the fourth- Ah, shit. Too close to the kid for his liking. Better just take it. The bullet collided with his shoulder with a dull ting. Logan roared. Duck. Slice the gun. Useless. Catch her arm. Slice the stomach. Block the swing, take the headbutt - moron - both sets of claws through her shoulders into the wall.

Ding ding ding.

We have a winner. 

She cried out and struggled, but it was useless. 

“Why are you working with Sinister?” He snarled directly in her face. The bruising from the failed headbutt was already fading, but… Slower now. 

“Who?” Siren sputtered.

“The guy who hired you. Essex, or whatever he’s callin’ himself now - and I bet he gave you that fancy needle, too.” 

“A job’s a job.” She coughed. “Not all of us get a cushy mansion.”

“Not all of us use that as an excuse to hurt kids.” Logan shot back. He pulled his claws out and let her drop. She looked pale. If that shot let her heal like he thought it did, then she better hope it could fix all that. Not his monkeys, in any case. 

“If you ever want a taste of the good life…” He said, stepping back and retracting his claws. “Charles Xavier, he can help you.”

“Charles Xavier…” Siren’s voice was thick and wet as she reached into her vest. “Is a fucking hypocrite.” Logan realised what she was doing just in time. He dove over Sammy right as the explosion went off. 

…

…

…

The dust settled. Nothing moved. Then, the scuttle of smaller rocks as something shifted. A chunk of ceiling moved. Then, with a grunt of effort, Logan shoved it off and away. His hair was a mess, he was streaked with dirt and his own drying blood, his jacket was shredded and his shirt and jeans barely survived - but he was alive. 

And more importantly, so was she. 

“You alright, kid?” He asked, looking down. Sammy was curled into a tight ball at his feet, hands over her ears and trembling visibly. When he inhaled (a strange feeling, given that his lungs were still repairing themselves), what he smelled above all else, more than the blood, the accelerant, the rubble, was blind terror and tears. 

“Ah, geez.” Logan scratched at his neck and crouched down. “Hey there. Sammy, right?” She didn't move. “I think you’ve had a real lousy couple of days. Is that right?” She stayed curled up. He tilted his head. “I bet I know just the thing.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his comnlink. “I have her, Charles.”

“I heard. Your link must have turned on during the fight.” Charles’s voice - the real Charles. 

“Figured.” Logan shrugged. 

“Are you both alright?”

“I’m fine. Takes more than that to bring the ol’ Canucklehead down. The kid… she ain't hurt, but she's shaken up bad. Think you can get her parents on the line?”

“Of course.” Charles sounded relieved. “I’d stepped outside when I got your signal. Let me fetch them.”

“Thanks.” Logan said. “Oh, and, uh- Charles?”

“Yes?”

“I dunno how much you heard, but, uh…” Logan chewed the inside of his cheek. “What that Siren lady said? She's wrong. You saved all of us. … Especially me.” 

There were a few seconds of silence. Logan wondered if he had lost the signal. 

“Thank you, Logan.” Charles finally spoke. “Coming from you, that means more than I can say.” And then it was silent again, aside from the sound of a sliding door. And then Charles’s voice again, distantly. “Mr. and Mrs. Everett?”

“Is that-?” Jake sounded hesitant. 

“Sammy?!” Marcy sounded close to tears. 

“She's here.” Logan confirmed. 

“Oh, my baby-!” Marcy wailed. There was a jostling sound, and then her voice was much clearer. “Baby, Mama’s here, is that you?”

Sammy finally looked up.

“Hey, little mermaid!” Jack's voice, and it sounded like Marcy’s weeping was contagious. “The nice man’s gonna take you home, okay? Make sure you listen to him!”

Her big, green eyes welled up with fresh tears. 

“And then we’ll bake cinnamon cookies.” Marcy promised. “All day.” 

“All day.” Jack echoed.

“Why don't you stay on the line til we get back?” Logan said, then held the commlink out to Sammy. “Here, little darlin’. Hang on to this for me.” She blinked up at him, uncertain. He crouched down even lower and softened his voice. “It’s real this time. I promise.” She sniffled, and when he dropped the commlink into her open palm, clutched it to her chest.

“We love you, baby.” Marcy’s voice leaked out from her fingers.

“You’ll be home soon.” Jack added.

“Y’know,” Logan rocked back on his heels. “They’re not the only ones who missed you.” Sammy looked up again, her face tear-streaked and puffy. “I had someone who was so worried, he came all this way just to help me find ya’.” And off his belt, Logan pulled Thimble the Lion - a bit flattened from having been caught underneath him during the explosion, a little dirty, and maybe a bit torn, but otherwise intact. Sammy gasped and surged forward, gathering the toy against her chest. Logan smiled, then stood. 

“C’mon. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” He held out a hand to help her up (thankfully, his gloves were dark enough to hide any bloodstains). Sammy peered up from Thimble’s threadbare fur, looked at the hand, then shifted Thimble to the other side so she had a free arm to reach up with. She hiccuped. 

Well.

How the fuck did he say no to that?

“Alright, up ya’ go.” Logan said, ducking down to scoop her into the crook of his elbow. She nestled her head against his shoulder and soon, even with the revving of his motorcycle’s engine, was asleep.

******

The reunion was about as tearful as Logan expected it to be.He’d woken Sammy up when they got close. When they pulled in the driveway, she didn’t wait for the engine to cut off before she’d jumped off.

“Sammy!” Jack and Marcy cried, sprinting off the front step. They scooped her into her arms and collapsed on the lawn, holding her so tightly Logan couldn’t see her anymore. Charles wheeled out of the door, down the small step, and then moved to Logan’s side. 

“Well done, old friend.” He said with a smile. Logan nodded. 

“Just doing my job.” He replied, arms crossed. “Glad it’s over.” And both he and Charles smiled. 

“Oh, and Logan?” Charles spoke. Logan grunted.

“As I told you, we could hear what you and Siren were saying. We will be discussing it at your next session.” Logan opened his mouth to say something, then glanced over at Sammy and reconsidered his phrasing. 

“Sometimes, Charles, you can be a real pain in the- … Rear.”

Charles only laughed. Jack and Marcy looked up.

“Thank you.” Marcy sniffled, her cheek still pressed against her daughter’s hair. 

“Charles?” Jack nodded, then glanced back at his wife, who nodded. Jack faced forward again. “We want to take you up on it.” Logan tilted his head to the side, then glanced at Charles with an arched brow.

“She comin’ with us?” 

“Not yet.” Charles shook his head once. “But soon. We’ll make arrangements once they’ve all had some time to recover.” Logan looked back at the Everetts.

“Then why don’t you hang on to that commlink for a while?” He suggested. “It’s a direct line to the mansion. Anything happens again, we’ll be here before you know it.”

“Thank you.” Jack, this time, and his voice broke before he scrubbed his eyes with his sleeve. Sammy took advantage of the loosened grip and squirmed free, stumbled, then scurried to stand in front of Logan. He blinked, then crouched down.

“Hello, little lady.” He said. She studied him for a moment. He tilted his head. Then she carefully set Thimble down and reached for his face with both hands. He froze. Once again, he was hearing impossible voices.

But these weren’t voices he recognized.

Or- They were. One was. But- But he couldn’t be hearing it. It wasn’t possible. He’d… He’d thought he’d never hear it again. He shouldn’t be able to…

[Hello,] said a young girl’s voice. Shy and innocent. 

[Hm? Oh, good afternoon, my dear.] A man’s voice. Oh god. 

[What are you doing?] The girl asked. Logan struggled to breathe.

[I’m sitting, I imagine,] the man said. [Would you care to join me?] It hurt.

[But why are you sitting here?] The girl asked. [You can go.]

A moment of silence. Logan wasn’t even sure his heart was beating. 

[I’m waiting for someone.] The man said finally. 

[Who?] The girl asked.

Logan felt his chest constrict. 

[My son.] The man said. [James.] Logan’s eyes stung. [He’s a sweet boy. A strong boy. But he’s always hated being alone. I’d like to be here for him when he arrives, to help show him the way.] His voice sounded so different than Logan remembered. Had he remembered his father wrong, all these years?

[You must’ve waited real long.] The girl said. 

[I… I assume so.] The man said. [I’m not actually sure how long it’s been. I hope it’s been many, many years, though. I’d like him to have grown up by the time we see each other again. I… I hope he got the chance to do so.]

[Do you miss him?] The girl asks. Logan feels sick. 

Another silence.

[Yes.] The man says softly. [But I’m glad that I do.] And then Sammy steps back, and Logan snaps back to the present. She blinks up at him curiously, waiting for a reaction he couldn’t give her. He couldn’t move. 

“Logan?” Charles sounded a thousand miles away. A hand on his back. “Logan, are you alright?” He blinked, rocked back. He was replaying those words over and over again, as much as they hurt - desperately trying to cling to that voice. The first voice to ever love him. 

“Sammy, what did you do-?” Marcy asked, pulling her daughter into her arms.

“I’m so sorry-” Jack began, but Logan just shook his head. He swallowed, drew a steadying breath.

“Sammy, can you do me a favour?” He asked. She nodded, peeking out from her mother’s blouse. “You ever see him again… You tell him not to wait up.” And he turned and stood, waiting for Charles, and remained silent long after they got back to the mansion.

He had a lot to think about.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

I Am Blackened Bones (Part 30)

It is strange to see her again. The real Azula. The Azula that he has always known.

It is stranger still to talk to her again. Without the spirit to intervene. 

And strangest yet to see the Azula that he has always known with her rigid, stiff posture and her well-articulated speaking patterns. But at the same time see someone else, with a more welcoming aura and a twinkle of curiosity in her eye—he can see it every time she spots one of the Fire Nation’s newer innovations, a building with a different material make, a new type of machine, newer forms of firebending…

“What do you think?”

Azula gives the street another up and down glance. “It’s different.” She replies. “That building wasn’t there before. And those statutes.” 

He wonders if it stings at all for her to see that there isn’t one of her standing near the other golden likenesses of he and his friends. If it does she makes no mention of it. “I can probably have them make one of you…”

“Huh?” 

“The statues. I could have one made…”

“What for?” 

“What do you mean? To commemorate your memory…”

“I’m still alive.”

“Your legacy.” He corrects. 

“I’m still making that?” She tilts her head. 

He almost laughs. He can’t believe that enough time has passed for him to forget that she has such a blunt manner of speaking. That she thinks so differently than the way he does. He holds that laugh back lest she get the wrong idea. 

“At any rate, statues are creepy. I don’t understand the appeal.”

“How so?”

“Why do people enjoy staring at their own faces so much? It’s uncanny. That barely even looks like you.” She pauses. “Well it does but there is something off about it. Something that isn’t quite right. That doesn’t bother you?”

Zuko shakes his head. “I never really saw it that way. I think that it’s a nice gesture of respect. A way to remember my accomplishments.”

“You can’t just remember them in your own brain?” She pauses. Before he can speak she adds, “I suppose that I am the wrong person to speak about remembering things that are important.” She pauses again. “From a historical standpoint I suppose that means of commemoration are useful.” She nods more to herself than him. “I’d rather just have a my accomplishments inscribed and then that scroll can hang in a pretty little frame on a wall somewhere.”

“What about portraits?” He asks. “You never minded those.”

“As far as you were aware. I don’t like having to sit for them; there are better uses for my time. Especially since I don’t look at them often.” She sighs. “But it would be quite bizarre if there isn’t a face to put to inscribed stories. I should probably go for an updated portrait, lest future historians think that I died as a child.”

“But no statues?”

“If you erect a statue of me I will personally see to it that it is taken down. If I want to look at my face I will do so in a reflection in a pond as nature had intended.” 

“You have a mirror at home… you’re joking right now.” He states. “You made a joke?”

“I am capable of doing that now and again, yes.” She replies. “I was not, however, joking about getting rid of any statute that resembles me.” 

This isn’t the way that he imagined that his first conversation with her since her arrival would go. Frankly he had imagined stress. He had imagined shouting and scowls and maybe tears. He hadn’t imagined jokes and laughing. He hadn’t imagined feeling a flutter of joy upon seeing her curiously observing the town that she had been deprived of for too long.

And he realizes that he doesn't need an apology just yet. Not vocally, anyways. She has her own way about apologizing. A way that makes her feel safe and he supposes that he shouldn’t push her to do it his way.

It is rather nice talking to her now that father isn’t whispering in her ear.

Now that father isn’t whispering in his ear.

Now that she has had at least a little bit of time to become Azula instead of just an extension of their father. He supposes that he should share this with Mai. Ask her to be patient with Azula. She’ll find the words eventually. Right now, her ability to joke with him and speak mundanely is good enough.

“Are you ready for your homecoming ceremony tonight?” He asks. “I figured that while we were here we can find something new for you to wear.” 

Azula shrugs. “It’s just a homecoming ceremony, there isn’t too much to worry about.” 

He knows that she is lying. If only because his homecoming after three years had been one of the most stressful moments of his life. He puts a hand on her shoulder. “I saw this one hair piece that I thought that you’d like.”

“Alright.” 

.oOo.

Azula smooths her hand down the front of her silks. And she is decorated under layers and layers of it. Pretty red and gold fabrics in varying patterns that drape her arms and flow out and voluminously from beneath the golden sash a her hip. A large ruby with a gold filigree frame pins it in place. 

She hadn’t realized just how long her hair had grown until a team of servants, mostly new faces but one or two that she recognizes, begin pilling it up and fixing it in place with ribbons and hair sticks. The style is quite elaborate, more so than she is used to. And they assure her that they will have it styled twice as elegantly—with hair sticks with dangling crystals and dragon accents and golden hair combs—when it comes time to reinstate her title and place a crown back on her head. She can only imagine what the robes will look like then. There will probably be enough layers and components to make walking a challenge. 

They promise the same of her makeup. Of which they currently tint her lips with. The look is quite simple, they wing her eyeliner the way that she likes and add a touch of red to make it pop. The pat color onto her cheeks. They insist that she has grown quite pale since her trip to the Water Tribe and that they need to add some sunlight back to her complexion. 

It is more lavish than she had been dressed in a very long time, she had forgotten that these dresses make her feel uncomfortable. As terribly as she had missed her spa and the pampering that came with it, she very much does not enjoy the heavy robes. 

It shouldn’t be so hard, Lo and Li will do the talking for her. All she has to do is stand and look poised and presentable. Has to make it look as though she had been through nothing extraordinary.

It is a rather dull affair in spite of the pomp. Lo and Li are enthusiastic and speak with life in their voices but tend to draw speeches out just long enough for the excitement to start to wane. Azula looks down upon the crowd. It is more colorful with a dotting of blue and green with a field of red. It isn’t just her own people that welcome her back home. And maybe some people in the crows are also being welcomed home, for some of them this very well could be their first time standing in Royal Plaza. Their first time seeing Fire Nation royalty in person. 

Everything is so different now. She has been gone for so long. 

But she thinks that she is finally ready to be back. 

Yes, looking down upon the crowd, she thinks that she is. 

If an entire nation can change and change so beautifully then so can she. 

Lo and Li fall silent and revel fills the plaza. Cheers. Claps. Lively chatter. 

Her nation welcomes her with more warmth than the Fire Nation had ever had in the past. She finds herself smiling if only slightly. 

“Welcome home, Azula.” Zuko drapes his arm around her neck. 

“Thank you.” 

He holds his arms out and she sighs. “Fine. Once. Just this once.” He gives her a small squeeze. Just a quick little hug. She supposes that she didn’t hate it. The crowd certainly didn’t. Their claps begin a new. And that is how she knows the long time citizens from the newcomers; a good many of them had probably been waiting for a good long while to see the royal family whole and undivided. 

Whole and undivided like herself. 

.oOo.

“How do I look, Katara?”

“I told you that…”

“I look great.” Azula finishes. “But are you just saying that to get me to relax and move on or do you actually mean it. I don’t enjoy it when people say things just to spare my feelings.” Maybe it is comparison that does her in; she had been dressed so lavishly the night before that the outfit that she has picked for herself feels frumpy and dull. Her hair, loose and unstyled save for the brush she had let Katara run through it, falls to her hips. At least it looks nice.

“While I am very much hoping that we can move on with this, I also actually do mean it. You’ve always been really good at dressing yourself and taking care of yourself.”

“But I was in a jungle for years.” Moreover she was crawling around on all fours, covered in fire for a good portion of those years. She imagines that at least one or two crucial details about Caldera city fashion, she certainly isn’t up to date on the latest styles in Caldera City. Frankly she thinks that she has stuck too rigidly to the way that she used to dress. 

Katara pulls her in and kisses her on the cheek. “We’re having a double date with Zuko and Mai, you’re not making a big speech.”

Azula grimaces. “Not yet.” She is almost angry that she is so nervous. She has never had a problem with speeches and public appearances in the past. 

She had always been so deeply integrated in societies norms, had always been prepped and coached on exactly what to say, what people wanted to hear. Her words were seldom her own and now they want her to, in a sense, speak from the heart. 

Katara massages her shoulders. “You’re getting really tense again; don’t think about that right now.”

“But this speech is going to be a very pivotal one. It is going to shape how everyone views me going forward.” And she is going to need one mighty eloquent, competent, and pretty speech if she is going to undo the damage done to her reputation on the day of the comet.

“They seemed perfectly happy with you during your homecoming ceremony. And besides you have two whole weeks to prepare. One thing at a time, okay.” She offers Azula’s shoulders a firm squeeze. “Tonight let’s get through dinner and making up with Mai.”

Azula cringes.

Making up with Mai…

The prospect is thrice as intimidating as the prospect of making a re-coronation speech. At least she has some framework for what a good speech will sound like.

“You’re going to do fine. Tonight and during your coronation speech.” Katara promises. “Now let’s head out. I know that you like to be punctual.” In a grumble she adds. “And by that you usually mean at least an hour early.”

She does indeed. “I would like to leave ample time in case I see something that catches my eye. Caldera has changed so much.” 

“Are you admitting that you might get distracted?”

“I am admitting that it would only be proper to adequate re-familiarize myself with the city that I rule over…but yes perhaps there might be one or two things that I simply find fascinating.”

Katara flashes her a smile. “Alright then. Fair enough.”

They will probably still arrive an hour early. She had accounted for that.

.oOo.

She hasn’t been to this restaurant since she was a child. It had been her favorite at some point or another. It was always a delight when they handed her the ingredients and let her do some of the cooking. Not that she was particularly good at it. Mostly she liked watching the flames dance. Zuzu’s meals alway came out burnt. Hers did too…probably worse. And so it was up to mother and father to make an edible meal. Most of the time father burned his food too and they were one torched chunk of hippo-cow meat away from calling their chef back to do all of the work.

Mother was good at cooking…

Azula wraps her arms around herself. She is starting to wish that she and Katara hadn’t arrived first. Starting to wish that she had let herself get more distracted. Or that the two of them should have joined Mai and Zuko at the botanical garden but she needed the time to get dressed. Needed time to prepare herself to see her former friend. It is admittedly overwhelming to do, having just gone through her homecoming ceremony and the accompanying dinner the night before. Not that she isn’t pleased to be having plenty of fine Fire Nation cuisine again with all of the spices and all of the richer flavors. It tastes like home. It tastes like normalcy. It is nice to have at least a touch of that after so very long.

Just when Azula is getting comfortable, the figures of Mai and Zuko appear in the doorway. Azula finds herself relieved to know that Mai hasn’t changed all that much. Her hair is longer but she hasn’t changed the way that she puts it up and her bangs are cut exactly the same way. She still has the same somewhat downcast gaze. But she is taller now, much taller. Taller than Zuko even. And she wears dark lipstick. She stands with her hands in her pockets and her lips pressed together. 

“So you got yourself turned into some type of spirit.” Mai says in a way of a greeting. Azula swears that there is a hint of humor in her voice. “That must be quite a story.” 

Azula thinks for a moment. “I don’t remember it all too well.” She thinks that she may never recall all of the details. And maybe that is for the best. Maybe she isn’t supposed to know exactly who or what had put the spirit curse on her. She can’t imagine that the memory would be all too friendly. “Just that it had been storming one night and I came by this old, abandoned temple. It had a spirit protecting it…or it could be that the temple was made for that spirit. Either which way it wanted an offering of some sort for intruding in its temple. I didn’t have anything to give…” She trails off. 

“And…?”

Azula shrugs. “And then a blank space where a memory should be. I think that I had argued with the Spirit. Possibly.” 

Zuko pulls out a chair. “How was your walk?”

“I found this shop that sells little handmade dragon egg sculptures…”

“I thought that you said that you didn’t like…”

“Statutes, Zuzu. Those are unsettling. Sculptures are fine. Especially the egg shaped ones that would make for a very lovely homecoming gift.” She reaches for her tongs as their server places raw ingredients on the table. At its center is a somewhat large pit full of coals. “I understand that you enjoy honor…”

“I do not talk about honor that much.”

“...So I invite you to do the honor of lighting our cooking fire.”

“I haven’t seen you firebend in ages, you can light the fire, the blue would create a nice ambiance.”

“Yes. About that…” 

“Your fire is orange now?” Mai frowns slightly. 

Azula ignites the coals in a brillant flare of white.

“When did that happen?” Mai asks. 

“When I merged with the fire spirit.” This, of course requires a lengthy explanation that she gives while the four of them fight to make an at least semi-appetizing looking meal.

“I think that your fire is too hot, Azula.” Katara frowns. 

“That or you aren’t a good chef.”

“I have never burnt a single meal in my life! Not until now!” She insists. 

Azula rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine.” She snuffs her own flames and gestures for Zuko to set the pit ablaze once more. “But don’t blame the spices when you still can’t create a good meal.”

“Some of these Fire Nation dishes are more complicated then what I’m used to cooking.” Katara insists. 

“We’re going to be eating poorly tonight, aren’t we?” Zuko grumbles.  

“So, why Katara?” Mai asks. “I never imagined that the two of you would get on so well.” 

“Katara can tell you that one. My throat is growing sore. Unlike Katara’s brother, sometimes I get tired of talking.” By the end of Katara’s recanting of their adventure, she finds herself picking at her plate with slightly pinkened cheeks. 

Zuko’s mouth hangs agape so it is up to Mai to confirm, “so the two of you are…dating?

Azula nods. 

“Good luck.” Mai mutters. 

“Who are you wishing luck to, Mai? And why would Katara need it?”

“And good luck to you, Mai. That whole family is a handful.”

“Trust me. I know.” 

They are laughing. All four of them are laughing. She had never imagined that she would be laughing with Mai again. With Mai and Zuzu. To be frank, there had been a time when she didn’t think that she would be able to laugh or smile again. Let alone, mostly untroubled. Maybe next time TyLee will be sitting with them too. Katara cups her hand over Azula’s.

They never do make an edible looking meal.

[seigephoenix]

OMG OMG SEIGE OMG ANOTHER M!HAWKE X F!TREVELYAN SHIPPER!? YES YES YES How about "Person A draws Person B and vice versa, Couple Portraits" for Alissa x Garrett? 👀👀👀👀👀👀

Happy writing!

Yes! I adore this ship and will go down with this ship! My Alissa Trevelyan x Garrett Hawke ship is my comfort ship. In their canon story, Alissa is an illustrator for children books and does portraits on the side, at least she did in Kirkwall. XD For @dadrunkwriting

Content Warning: flirting, mentions of Hawke and Trev child, adorable shenanigans Length: I forgot to look. XD

“Are you quite certain you wish to do this Garrett?” Alissa asked as she joined him in her quarters.  He’d been bugging her all afternoon that he had a great plan set up for a quiet evening.  He’d gotten Bethany and Matthew to keep Zephyr overnight, Alissa wished she could be a fly on the wall for Matthew putting his nephew to bed it would be quite the spectacle, and Garrett had been so excited.

“Yes!  I know you painted that portrait of the family for Mother back in Kirkwall, but I’d like to give this a try myself.”  Alissa crossed her arms in front of her chest as she studied her husband.  He looked so proud of himself and she actually was looking forward to sitting down and getting to sketch him.  Not that she hadn’t done her fair share of it back in Kirkwall, but those had been with stolen glances when he wasn’t looking.

“Alright.  You’ve gotten everything prepared already.”  She swept a hand towards the materials neatly arranged on her desk.

“I had a little help with getting your paperwork finished.”  She looked over at him and he simply smiled down at her.  “Lady Montilyet was more than happy to help me once I explained what I was trying to do.”

“Josie would be more than happy.”  Alissa gave a short laugh as she realized the hopeless romantic would happily help him set up this date.  “Alright Garrett.  You’re on one side and I’m on the other?”

“Yes.  Then we come together and see what each looks like at the end.”  Alissa chuckled and she carefully sat in the chair facing Garrett.  He smiled at her before he looked down at his paper and charcoal.

And realized he had absolutely no idea how he was going to accomplish this.  His wife was the talented artist, he could barely string two lines together.  He watched her hand moving over the page and knew he had to get started.  He hoped he could do something of a decent job.  Garrett started when he felt her foot brush the back of his leg.  “Madam, are you trying to distract me?”

“Is it working?”

“Yes, now stop.”  Alissa huffed and returned to her drawing.  They sat quietly in their quarters, letting the noises of the courtyard be the backdrop for their date.  Alissa dared a glance over and saw how hard he was concentrating on the paper.  Garrett always put his one hundred percent into whatever it was he did.  Whether it was fighting, helping his friends and family, or his son.  Alissa loved that about him, there was nothing half-hearted about Garrett Hawke’s actions.

“Alright.  I think I’m done.” Garrett announced as Alissa looked up.  “Shall we show them off?” Alissa chuckled and she held her paper close to her chest and stood.  “Where are you going my lovely wife?  There’s no escaping.”  He reached out and linked their fingers together as she joined his side.

“I wasn’t leaving.  I wanted to see what you did.”  Garrett made a face but she merely brought their fingers up to her lips, pressing a quick kiss and grinning at him.

“Quit trying to distract me.”

“Garrett, I could be talking about treaties and noble houses and you’d think I was seducing you.” Alissa placed her art facedown before turning to him.

“Well, I do like how snooty you sound when you’re talking to the nobles.”  He grabbed her waist and pulled her onto his lap earning a laugh from her lips.

“Now who’s trying to distract who?”  Alissa smiled up at him.  He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.  Her hand came up to cup his cheek as she parted her lips under his.  He was almost lost in the kiss but he sensed her moving.

“Don’t!”  He broke the kiss as she snatched up his drawing and danced away from him with her prize held against her chest.  “You little sneak.”

“You were the one who was trying to distract me serah.  I merely did what I had to do to get my hands on this.” Alissa huffed at him as she pointed at his chest.  “Now, let me see.”  Alissa held the drawing up and her lips curved into a smile.  She noticed the way he looked away, half covering his lips with his hand and a dusting of red on his cheeks going up to his ears.

His drawing was nowhere near professional, but Alissa knew that.  Her heart warmed as she saw the painstaking way he captured her portrait.  She could see the lines he carefully drew for her tattoos, her eyes, and how hard he worked on getting her hair right.  It wasn’t professional but it was just as precious to her.  She tucked it behind her back when she sensed him reaching for it.

“Nope!  I’m keeping this.  I love it Garrett.”

“It’s not as good as yours.”  She heard the grumbling and laughed.

“Of course it isn’t.  I’ve studied art since I was fifteen.  Over half my life I’ve dedicated myself to it.  You haven’t but to see what you were able to do for me?  I absolutely love it.  I’d like to see you draw Zephyr too.”  Garrett looked at her in surprise.  “What?  I’m serious Hawke.”

“Well, since you were so persistent and used my name in that tone of voice…  I guess I have to.”  Alissa grinned at him and leaned in for another kiss.  Garrett’s hands came up to her hips, his fingers digging in slightly as he lost himself in the kiss.

They broke apart when the door burst open downstairs.  “Alissa!!!  Your child is insufferable!  Has to be his father’s genes!”  Garrett burst into laughter at hearing his brother-in-law grousing about putting their child down for bedtime.

[cartrunkent]

My Favorite Musicals (#2)

Another favorite is Steven Lutvak and Robert L. Freedman’s A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder. I’ll put it number 2 on my list, but I really don’t quantify them like that. For organizational purposes it’s number 2.

I knew nothing of this show before the performance of “I’ve Decided to Marry You” on the Tony’s. That was the best advertisement this show could have and the only one I really needed. It’s really the one I had. I have one friend reach out after having seen it and recommend it to me. It became a “let’s go see it” with my wife. We had already only been to Broadway together once, so this was the second time I took her to NYC. We loved it. A few months later, we heard it was closing, and we went again-catching it in the final two weeks. We saw it on Tour in Baltimore and we almost saw it again. (That's not my wife with Jefferson Mays, just that's the best pic we had of him. That IS me with Bryce Pinkham.)

What made this show sing to me was the interplay with the audience. I love shows that find the space between presentational and representational and exploit it in interesting ways. The narration aspect of the “book,” and Monty’s winks towards the audience break the fourth wall in ways that were delightful. The music box aspect of the set and the less than realistic props and settings…and of course this was this guy playing 11 different characters! The music was funny and accessible. It was just a fun treat. (Image Below: The Broadway set with about a week to closing, after the show, the ghostlight is on.)

It immediately found its way onto my list of shows to direct. The small cast and stylized somewhat unit set really made it fit into my wheelhouse for directing.

I used “I Don’t Understand the Poor” as my audition song for that director in 2017 for the role of Cogsworth in Beauty and the Beast. I got that part. ( Image Below: Show art from the 2022 production of Gentlemen's Guide that I was part of.)

When it did come up in my area for a production, the timing was bad. I wasn’t even going to audition. I’m not a singer and with only two male leads I only had a shot at ensemble, and with a small ensemble, I’d be doing a lot of singing. It really wasn’t something I could do. The audition turn-out was low, so I got prodded into auditioning by the choreographer.

I decided to audition for Miss Shingle because they didn’t have any older women. Mind you, I’m not an older woman, but she doesn’t sing that much, and I could handle her singing as character. Character singing is something I can do. I spent my afternoon preparing Wouldn’t It Be Loverly from My Fair Lady. I felt good, but there were six older women. I still did my piece as planned…and that led to me being heavily read as the D’ysquith family. My choreographer friend told me that I almost go it…but it went to a different guy.

I was cast as part of the company and was able to play a variety of roles including the Inspector who sings in That Horrible Woman, which is one of my favorite songs from the piece. 

Our production of Gentlemen’s Guide sold out and was well received. I cracked up laughing one night as one of the Ancestral Portraits, one of the tour group whispered something rather inappropriate to me as he passed and I just couldn’t control myself. It caused a lot of laughter. We all lived to perform another day.

I joke about being an accidental victim of Monty Navarro because I pretended to eat something off the table as a servant, “got sick”, walked off the stage and then never appeared again. It was a little thing and since the director was not in tune with the comedy of the show I assumed it would get cut (as he did with most of the humor in the show,) but he didn’t say anything (probably didn’t notice we suspect.) It’s the little things.

It took me a while to listen to it again after the production, but it’s back in my rotation now.

Favorite Song: Foolish to Think. -Might use that for an audition someday.

Favorite #4: Jekyll and Hyde

Favorite #3: Jane Eyre

Favorite #2: A Gentlemen's Guide to Love and Murder

Favorite #1: Assassins

[thebiggestdogtbd]

A Nice Walk 8/10/1347

Asolear Haven

A young she-wolf wearing a blue silken dress with white hems leans her right side against an oak doorframe. Her steel gray fur bristles at every movement the one in front of her makes, her left hand brushes the cream-colored neck fur as she watches the one within the dark red walled bedroom. Her emerald, green eyes ogle a male wolf. She watches his dull gray furred; muscular arms flex as he buckles the belt of his trousers, she silently swoons as his toned brown chest stretches as he pulls the light blue tunic over himself. The gray faced male wolf sits on their bed, the violet quilt bows to his weight, and he begins to pull his black boots on. Glancing up, he jumps with a start upon noticing the gray wolf, his hand over his chest as he exhales.

“By Nett, Elena, how long have you been standing there?” the surprised male asks as she comes to sit beside him on the bed.

“Not long enough.” She hums resting her head on his shoulder, her emerald eyes alight with adoration, “I love you, ‘Zio.”

The male turns to her, softly brings his hand to her muzzle, and gently plants a kiss on her lips, “I love you more than the moons, my dear.”

Looking at their portrait on the wall behind him, she hums again, “Something is missing from the canvas.”

“What is it?” he asks turning to look at the image, concerned they were scammed on their painting.

“I’m probably imagining things.” She sighs with delight, turning him to face her again, looking into his fiery amber eyes, “Would you like to walk with me to the pond?”

“Of course, Love.” He smiles, “It’s a beautiful morning.”

She smiles and stands. Holding her right hand out, the male takes hers and follows her out of the bedroom and into the oak floored hallway, white walls decorated with trinkets and paintings. The main entrance of the home is decorated with his well fit steel armor and weapons. His family crest embroidered on a banner above the hearth in the shape of a golden wolf’s ear.

Elena looks at ‘Zio every so often with an eager smile. It had been ten years since he freed her from the slavers. She was wary of him at first, afraid he would put her back in to the slave trade, but he taught her how to read, how to mend flesh, and how to protect herself. She was not the only one he freed from slavery, everyone in town was saved by him. Without him, the town would not exist, nor would the children be playing in the cobblestone streets.

The morning summer sun warms the town, white smoke billowing from the inn’s chimney paints the cloudless cerulean sky. The faint smell of fresh baked bread wafts through the air, and the laughing of children echoes from the market. An axe splits wood for the fire. The two get approach the inn and meet a tall, muscular grizzly bear.

“Fabrizio; Elena, how are you this morning?” a brown bear speaks with a friendly smile as the pass by the innkeeper.

“We’re doing fine, Rinaldo.” Elena speaks holding her husband’s hand, “We’re heading over to the pond.

“Aye, I’m all Elena’s today, my friend.” Fabrizio smiles, “How’s Emilie doing?”

The bear sighs, “She’ll be alright, just a little bruised. I told her the moss on those rocks behind the inn are slippery, but she doesn’t listen. She’s just like me.”

Elena speaks up, “Send her to our home later, I can teach her how to brew an herb into a tea to soothe the pain.”

“Thank you, Elena, I will.” The bear says with a grin, “Ah, I’ve taken too much of your time anyway, go have fun.”

The wolves say farewell and walk through the center of the town market. The crisp smell of breads, steamed broccolis and potatoes, and the heavenly sweet, honeyed cakes linger heavily in the air, as well as the shouts of the vendors. Elena hesitates in front of a floral vendor, glancing at a bouquet of white lilac surrounding a trio of roses. Without saying a word, Fabrizio releases her hand and buys the bouquet for her.

“Oh ‘Zio, you didn’t have to.” She gasps in surprise as he picks the bouquet up for her, “It’s quite beautiful, but you di-”

“I know, but I like watching you smile.” He grins looking into her eyes.

Her skin beneath her fur brightens red as she blushes with a smile and accepts the flowers with both of her hands. Now that he looks at her closer, her steel gray fur seems more vibrant, the cream neck and chest fur seems brighter as well. She quickly wraps her arms around his neck with the floral boutique in her hand. He does the same and inhales her sweet lavender perfume.

The noise of the market fades as he holds her close, like he did three years ago when they wed. The universe stops in its tracks as the musical sound of her voice whispers in his ear.

“I’m pregnant.” She says holding him tight.

The wolf stops, did he hear her correctly?

“What did you say?” he asks with confusion.

She lifts her eyes up to meet his amber ones, “We’re having a cub.”

Fabrizio swallows, “We’re going…”

“We’re going to be parents.” She grins and lovingly gazes up into his eyes, “Thank Kata, our cub will live in a safe town with friends.”

The male stays silent for a moment, his wife worried that he doesn’t like the news.

“I’m going to be a father?” he asks thinking it’s a joke to receive a nod, “I’m going to be a father!”

He pulls her closer; kisses her lips, “I love you! Elena, this is wonderful!”

Her cheeks burn brighter red, “I wanted to tell you by the pond. And the flowers… I couldn’t bare holding a secret anymore.”

“Come, let’s go to the pond.” He suggests, “To escape the crowd and plan for our newborn.”

“Would you be upset if it was a girl?” Elena looks away, knowing men of his ranking wish for a son.

“Absolutely not!” he answers truthfully pulling her gaze back up to his, “Our cub will be loved all the same. And I will be there alongside you, my love… my two loves.”

[retrowaving1]

My painting of Basia in 2023 / My drawing of “the Queen” Basia (to the left) and princess myself as a cat ( to the right  ) in 2010 - yes, I was a weird child  :D

Despite the description, this post is going to be deeply personal   One month ago, I lost my dearest friend and one of the most beloved family members - my cat Basia. She was fighting a lymphoma since 2020, when she also had a surgery, but even afterward, the problem returned and started progressing again. By the end of May, my mom, who, together with the rest of my family, currently lives in Ukraine, wrote me a message that Basia stopped eating and drinking, and had trouble walking. Clearly, she was in pain and couldn't function anymore. We made a painful mutual decision to put her down the next day, so she wouldn't have to suffer anymore. 

That day, I called my parents on Telegram to say goodbye to my pet. She was looking very ill, she lost most of her weight, and her fur, once silky and smooth, was looking like hedgehog spines. I cannot choose the words (even in my native language, let alone English) to describe the emotional state I was in, knowing that I couldn't be there for her at that moment. I felt guilty and I was so sorry. However, there was nothing to be done. The next day, that was the 1st of June, her 14th birthday, a vet came over to my parents' house and sent her to her last, peaceful sleep. My parents buried her at a beautiful, safe place near the river together with her favorite toy, a mouse, which she had since she was a kitten. 

Basia was an amazing cat. She was very loving and supportive, as much as a cat can be for a human, and even more. In a way, Basia provided me with advice, when I needed one, by gently biting me on my hand when I was misbehaving as a teenager and not accepting my abusive ex-boyfriend into the family, as if she was protecting me. She was an extremely wise pet. She also was my bestie. We were together since I was 8, and she was a 2 months old little piece of fluff. She used to support me through my pain and health issues, both physical and mental. 

She was my painkiller and my inspiration. When we adopted Basia, I had been attending art school for about one year. I have always liked painting, but if before Basia I would paint trees and barbie dolls, after I got her - everything was about her. I used to paint her in different costumes, as if she was a human. Once I painted her on an a2 canvas in my school uniform and I think this work won some kind of competition, and even was hanging on the art school’s wall for some time (even though it actually was awful, if you ask me now XD). 

I guess what I want to say is that I loved that cat so much I could honestly paint her forever and even write short stories about her, as she had her own character and her approach to life, and her eyes were always filled with some unattainable cat wisdom. I truly believe that this cat had a huge influence over my interest in arts and was my first-ever muse. Thus, the most reasonable homage I can pay her is her last portrait, which would capture her young, silky and beautiful, the way I remember her, sitting on the porch of our cottage.

Basia, my dearest pet to whom I owe so much, I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you in 2020, when you first got sick, and in 2023 when your time came, but I hope you didn't hold grudges against me at the moment when you found your final peace, as you have always been in my heart and no other pet will ever replace you. I still rewatch the videos of you, jumping and playing with your mouse, and I appreciate you so much for fighting this horrible disease for such a long time. You were always so strong. Thank you for all the happy memories and for all of your support throughout the years of our mutual friendship. Thank you for everything. I love you and may your cat soul, wherever it is right now, rest in peace.

_______________________________

[strongxsurvivors]

just some musings for my new muses as i was trying to figure them out. they aren’t good by any means or long, just sumfin’ for now. tw: self harm, abuse, homophobia.

joey

staring at the baking tray through the open oven door, a moment passed. it was time to pull it out — the hot air licking at joey’s skin. the oven mitts were within arm’s reach. but, there was a feeling that washed over him, causing all other feelings to drain out of him and spill onto the floor. a melancholy so strong that he felt his lungs seize up in his chest. why did he bake these? as a genuine token of goodwill, or to gain the approval of others that would eventually leave him? he wanted to full-heartedly believe it was the former, but his mind was driving the latter idea. how sad was he that the only thing that he could offer up was baked goods? why was he racing still when it felt like he wasn’t like the rest? he reached into the oven, hands making contact with the hot metal. he held onto the tray for about a second and a half until his body forcibly opened his hands and the tray clattered onto the oven door. he curled up into a fetal position on his feet as he cradled his hands to his chest, sniffling from the pain. he took a few moments to breathe before he forced himself to stand up and turn off the oven, putting his burned hands under the cold tap. he watched as his hands shook slightly, waiting for the pain to become duller before turning off the water and turning to the mess he had purposefully caused. he needed to remake the muffins.

beckett

beckett blankly stared at the portrait of his father’s likeness on the dining room wall as another spare piece of silverware was thrown in his direction. what his mother was saying didn’t sink in anymore — it didn’t need to — as he knew what she was saying. it was as if a record player was bumped and the same lines were playing over and over again. “your father was a world champion by your age and you’re still only a reserve?” “you’re beyond a disappointment.” “what did we pay all of this for? how ungrateful you are.” “if your father was alive, he’d have thrown you out without your inheritance.” the words didn’t hurt anymore. honestly, nothing really hurt him anymore since his father’s passing, the woman’s violent and loud ruckus not stopping him from drinking his wine and continuing his meal. the staff were desperately trying to subtly clean the mess while also avoiding getting caught in the crossfire. “mother,” he finally spoke, his tone even and almost patronizing. “if you loved your husband so much, perhaps you should have a little more faith in his final decisions? and, stop throwing a tantrum like a child. i love you, but these fits aren’t good for your health.” he lied easily. he didn’t love that woman — he barely recognised her. she used to be so loving before he got into f2, then she saw him only as some cash cow. he stood from his seat as his mother continued to mutter something or another. “i’m going out. don’t wait up and don’t worry,” he said, as if she ever did either of those things. “i wish it had been you instead of your father.” the comment froze his steps, as it always did. any mention of his father’s actual death always struck something deeply hidden inside of him. he took in a deep breath and tightened his jaw before he forced himself to continue his exit. “goodnight, mother.”

wyatt

he was used to selling himself. smile, laugh, make jokes. be pleasant, seem fun and exciting. for the most part, it wasn’t hard for wyatt to get excited about things or find fun in most situations. but, it’d become much harder to feel like himself as he hopped from place to place, from one friend's home to another, one hotel to another. with every move, with every uncertain step forward, he felt like he was leaving another piece of himself behind. he’d always been a handful for his family with his energy, but they always loved him and helped him regardless. it made him believe that they would be with him no matter what. but, the moment he mentioned having a date — with forced clarification that it was with a boy and not a girl — his delusion was shattered. promptly kicked out, he had to mask his home life situation. he didn’t invite anyone to his home anymore, lied about his family being proud of him, and did what he could to make the money he needed. break was something he dreaded immensely, not sure who he could piggyback off when everyone was going to be going… well, everywhere. “you should go back home with your family.” “i will! i just wanted to have some fun before, you know?” no, he needed to work on impressing sponsors and teams. he needed a contract of any sort. the hotels were getting worse and worse as the money was running out. there was one thing, though, that tided him over until he could make real money. he took in a deep breath as he pulled out his laptop, an incognito window opening up to show what he’d last been researching. he bit down on his lip as he finally gave in, clicking on create an account. if he didn’t show his face, no one would know.

[marzzrocks]

i also wanted to show some of the houses i made today in hhp; here is Mitzi’s !

[astroluvr]

Is it okay if you do something where jack is really stressed and ends up getting mad at his toddler?

i didn't love the way this turned out, but i hope you enjoy!! thanks for your request!

***

Jack had been more than overwhelmed lately. The days leading up to his album deadline had been full of ups and downs that were hard to deal with. You did your best to keep your daughter, May, off of his hands on his busy days, but it was a little tougher to work around when your schedule got busy, too. May was an entirely innocent little girl, she was well-behaved, despite her few tantrums.

You were out for lunch with your newly-engaged friend, leaving May with her father for a few hours in the afternoon. May was looking forward to a day with just her father. She had already planned out in her head what she wanted to do- have breakfast, color some pictures, and maybe even make strawberry cupcakes.

The day started off how she expected, she had breakfast with her daddy and it was all just fine until he got a phone call. Jack sat her down on the barstool next to him as he looked at the phone call from Neelam.

“Yo,” Jack answered, playing with his daughter’s ponytail.

“Hey, Jack. I’ve got some... news.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” he furrowed his eyebrows and Neelam hesitated before speaking.

“Jack, one of the songs lost about two minutes of audio during post.”

“How the fuck did that even happen?” Jack groaned and Neelam made a defeated noise.

“The team is doing everything we can, hopefully we can still retrieve, but I wanted to give you the heads up.”

“How am I supposed to redo that? I’m booked nearly every day for the next two weeks and I’m not going to have time to.”

“I know that, Jack, I do, but-”

“Who was in charge?” Jack stood from the counter and left May at the counter with a bowl of Lucky Charms.

“Daddy?”

“May, give me ten minutes, baby, okay? Finish your breakfast and chill for a few.” he said dismissively, walking through the living to turn the TV onto Daniel Tiger.

May huffed at Jack before shoving her cereal bowl aside and hopping down. Her favorite thing in the world was having breakfast with Jack because instead of his usual hefty breakfast, he’d sit down and eat the sugary cereal she loved so much and he’d always give her cereal in a huge bowl she would never finish.

After a few minutes of staring down the hall and waiting for Jack to return, she hopped off the barstool and went into the closet to pull out a few pieces of paper and some markers. Her plan was to lure Jack back for arts and crafts when she showed him a pretty illustration.

Although May got distracted by Daniel Tiger a few times, she made a nice portrait of the kitten she saw walking. It was only two black ovals with four straight lines sticking out, but she was quite proud of herself. She was about to go back and show Jack, but when she heard his loud groan of frustration, she felt bad and decided something nicer would help.

Being the kind soul she was, she carefully drew stick figures of her and Jack at the basketball game they went to a few days ago. That was the last time she got to spend a decent amount of time and she loved every minute of it. As she replayed the few hours of that outing, she decided to draw the moment he put her on his shoulders as confetti was released in celebration.

She skillfully finished the picture with little blots of different colors to represent the confetti before running back down the hall to Jack. May was more than excited to show him and put him in a better mood. Seeing her always worked for him, any time he had a frown on his face, once May gave him a hug, he felt all better. Surely, she thought, having another painting to put on the walls of his office would relieve him of his worries.

With two quick knocks and a happy smile, she opened the door with the piece of paper behind her back and Jack looked up unhappily. The phone he had against his ear was one that she wasn’t allowed to play games on and the look on his face told him she better not ask to use the other one.

“Daddy, don’t be mad anymore. I made-”

“May, didn’t I tell you to sit down?” he grumbled, causing the little girl’s face to falter.

“I will, I just-”

“And what the fuck is all over your shirt?!” he slammed his phone down and walked over to her. “Why’d you have markers without permission? If you got anything on the carpet, I’m going to be mad.”

“Daddy, look!”

“I’ll look at it later.” Jack sighed, turning around to go back to his phone call. “Now, I need you to just go and sit down until your mother gets home.”

“But, Daddy!” she whined, stomping her foot and Jack lost his temper.

“Didn’t I say go sit down?! What’s so hard to understand about that, huh?!”

The yell that came from Jack’s throat scared her enough to make her drop the paper and send it fluttering to the hardwood floor. He’d never spoken to her like that, not even when she broke a vase in the store that she heard you say was expensive.

“Sorry, Daddy.” her little chest puffed out in the beginning of a sob, but Jack didn’t seem to notice.

She ran from his office before he could say anything else to her, straight to the living room to make an attempt at cleaning up her mess. She quickly threw everything into its designated places back into the closet she got it from and closely inspected the carpet for signs of marker.

When there wasn’t any, she sat down on the couch and cried to herself. Any other time, Jack would’ve come out to apologize if he upset her in the slightest, but now she was under her favorite blanket all to herself and trying to figure out why something so simple had gotten her reprimanded so heavily.

You came home a little earlier than you planned to when Neelam sent you a text about some of Jack’s album work going left. Your husband was a perfectionist through and through, which meant that you would have your hands full with having to talk him through his crisis. What you expected the least, though, was your baby girl with only her toes sticking out from beneath a Hello Kitty blanket and the sound of loud sobs.

“May, honey?” you approached her with concern and she looked from under the covers. Your heart immediately sank because you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen her like this. “Oh, bug, what’s the matter?”

“D-Daddy is so mean, Mama!” you sat next to her on the couch and began to wipe her tears and kiss her cheeks.

May had been navigating emotions, so sometimes when you and Jack had to parent her, it didn’t result in the best adjectives, but given her current state, calling Jack ‘mean’ didn’t seem too misplaced.

“What do you mean, baby?” she continued to cry and clutch onto your skirt. “I believe you, but can you tell Mommy what Daddy did, so she can make it better? Just calm down.”

She took a few deep breaths with you and you began to stroke her hair. “Daddy was... mad because he had his work phone and I tried to make him feel better with a picture of us, but he yelled at me. Said to sit down and he said a bad word, Mama! You said not to say bad words.”

“I did say that, and Daddy shouldn’t have done any of that, right?”

“Mmhmm. It hurt my feelings.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I think Daddy’s just having a bad day today and he’s not handling it the right way.”

“He needs to count to four.”

“He sure does. And I’ll go tell him that, too.”

She nodded before she spoke. “I missed you, Mama.”

“I missed you, too, bug.” you took her into your arms and left a few kisses that made her giggle. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

You sighed as you stood from the couch to go to Jack’s office. You were sure that once you bought his actions to light, he’d be more upset at himself than anything. You didn’t knock before entering Jack’s workspace, which earned you a glare, but nothing further. You moved the papers that had scribbles of verses on them and sat down in their former spot while staring up at Jack.

“My wife just got in and it looks important, so can I call you back?” there was a pause on Jack’s end before he set the phone down and looked at you tiredly. “Neelam call you?”

“Yes, she did and I’m glad she did because we need to talk.”

“About what?” you sighed and licked your lips.

“May. I don’t know when you yelled at her, Jack, but you hurt her feelings bad. She was crying under her blanket.”

“I’ll apologize once I get this all sorted, baby, but this is all crazy.”

“You yelled at her and you’ve never yelled at her, J.”

“I raised my voice.”

“No, she’s heard a raised voice with good reason. My baby is downstairs in tears, Jack. She was just trying to give you this.” you held up the piece of paper that you found on the floor and Jack took it in his hands. Once he deciphered what she drew, you could see the guilt cross his face.

“Fuck.” he breathed out and made eye contact with you. You stood up and got closer to him, enough to make sure he wouldn’t break away from your glance.

“She’s just a little girl who we’ve taught to be kind and respectful and that’s just what she was trying to do. I know you didn’t mean to, but we have to think about how that’s going to affect her if we hold off on owning up to when we’re not. You and May have the healthy relationship that I have always wanted for my babies and it’s your job to keep it up.”

Jack nodded, running his hands through his hair. “I swear I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, baby. I love May more than anything.”

“I know, baby, it’s why I’m not upset. I just want to make sure you understand.” you rubbed his shoulders and Jack nodded once more. “I love you and I love May. I want my family to be happy, that’s all.”

“I love you, too. I’m going to spend the rest of the day with May, so you just get comfortable, baby. Have a day to yourself.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” you kissed his cheek with a smile. “And we’ll talk later on about this all, if you want.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Jack eventually made his way back to the living room where May turned her head at the sound of footsteps. She first assumed it was you until she saw the tall figure. He wasn’t so intimidating with a pout on his face and a pair of Christmas pajama pants, but May still tensed.

“I didn’t make a mess, Daddy.” she whispered and Jack swallowed as his stomach dropped.

“I don’t care about a mess, May. I came to apologize for what happened.” he kneeled in front of her and she raised her eyebrows curiously.

“Apologize?”

“Means to say sorry. I want to say sorry for yelling at you and getting mad when you were just trying to do something nice for me. I shouldn’t have treated you that way, nobody should treat you that way.” he spoke firmly.

“Then why did you?”

“Because, and this is not at all a good reason, but some big stuff happened at work and I’m mad that a very special song I made for you got messed up. Daddy’s not mad at you for even a minute, May, I’m mad at that. Do you understand?”

“You’re mad at work and got mad at me?”

“Yeah. It wasn’t your fault and you weren’t doing anything bad, so I shouldn’t have yelled.” he looked at her in a survey of understanding and she nodded. “I am the sorriest I have ever been, May.”

“I forgive you. I’m sorry you were mad.”

“Thank you for forgiving me.” he kissed her cheek when he pulled her into his lap. “Now, what do you want to do since I'm so sorry?”

“Mmm, can you take me to ride my bike at the park?”

“I’d love to do that.”

“And then get ice cream?”

“Strawberry.”

“Duh.” she giggled and Jack laughed back. “And then can we watch Princess and the Frog?”

“My favorite!”

“No, it’s my favorite, Daddy!” she squealed and Jack stood up happily.

“Can we share?”

“Mmhmm.” she decided, wrapping her arm around his neck as he voyaged up the stairs.

“Let’s put on some real clothes, so we can have a really good day today.”

“Alright!” she scrambled down Jack’s side and he went into her room. “Oh, and Daddy?”

“Hmm?” he hummed back before going to her closet for an outfit.

“You can’t bring your work phone, so you don’t get angry. It’s May only.”

“Only you, May baby." he agreed, causing her to smile wide.

[evita-shelby]

Fics wth dad Tommy are my weakness Can i have one with him fathering his boys across the years, sometimes he does well, other times not so much. But his wife is always there to make sure that her boys are good to each other and take care of one another because that's how a shelby family work.

The Shelby Boys

Gif by @perioddramasource

1925

Charlie is three when he draws on the pristine ivory walls of Arrow House.

Tommy crouched down beside him and remembered he couldn’t be too harsh on a boy of three. He wouldn’t raise his children like his parents raised him. Besides, his wife would murder him if he ever raised a hand against Charlie and his unborn sister.

“What did we say about drawing on the walls, Charlie?” he asked the boy who concentrates on his stick figure portrait as if he were Michelangelo and this was his Sistine chapel.

“Not to.” The boy said stopped his drawing. “I’m sorry, daddy.”

“Oh no, boy, the one you’re going to have to apologize to is Frances ---and Sandra and Molly--- who have to erase your masterpiece of the walls.” Tommy ruffled his hair.

“What’s that?” the boy asks confused.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and then we can go downstairs to the room where your mum keeps all the paintings, so I can show you.”

----

1935

“No.” Tommy shook his finger at three-year-old Gabriel who promptly ignores him.

“What did we say about the N word?” his wife asks condescendingly. She mocks him because little Gabe has learned to tune out the word no.

Charlie and Diane had been angels compared to Gabriel Thomas Shelby.

Polly had been right to give the boy his name.

“We don’t draw on the walls, Gabe.” Tommy tried again.

“Why?” the toddler whined, stamping his little feet.

Thomas swore that was his son’s favorite word.

“Because Aunt Polly will be disappointed in you.” He tells his little boy. Polly was the closest thing they had to a grandmother, neither he nor his wife had a living mother to dote on their children, so it fell on Polly to fill the role.

“’m sorry.” His little boy pouted sadly and looked at the floor. Couldn’t say it properly yet, and that was probably what made it so easy for Gabe to be forgiven so easily.

----

1932

Charles Henry Shelby is ten when he says the unimaginable.

“I hate you!” Charlie yells and slams the door.

“Charles Henry, you open this door right now—” he begins, but his wife stops him.

“If you yell at him, it will make it worse.” She says like a sage.

A sage holding their two-year-old girl on her hip and making sure the six- and five-year-old go straight into the kitchen for snacks.

His wife was born to be a mother he thinks.

If only fatherhood came as easy as motherhood did to her.

“Charlie, kid, tell me what’s wrong.” Tommy groans as he sits beside the locked door. He had some hints as to what this outburst was about, but if he got Charlie to speak about it, he’d call it a victory.

“Why do you make me be friends with people who hate me?” he sniffled from the other side of the door.

“You don’t have to be friends with them, Charlie.” He told his boy. “I may work with their fathers, but you don’t have to put up with them.”

“That’s the problem, you work with people who hate people like us!” Charlie insisted.

Thomas would’ve thought that because Mosley had lost his seat last year, things would be better. He didn’t have to join this new party of his, but it seemed the issues had come to Charlie in the form of racist schoolchildren.

“You can say racist, Charlie.” Tommy suggested.

“Fine.” His son grumbled and then asked. “Why do you work with racist people?”

A question that Tommy couldn’t answer truthfully.

Or perhaps he could, his children could keep secrets.

“What if I told you this was a secret mission, like the ones your mummy did when she lived in Mexico.” He begins.

----

1936

“I hate you!” Gabe yells, stomps all the way to his room and slams the door hard enough for him to wonder if Johnny Dogs will have to take a look at the hinges again.

Gabriel’s ten and its 1936. Two entire years after Tommy stopped pretending to be a Fascist sympathizer and declared himself Mosley’s enemy.

Suffice to say it didn’t make things easier for his children.

“Do you want to talk about it, kid?” he was forty-six now, it was getting difficult to sit by the door and coax his children to speak to him.

“No.” Gabe said with angry tears.

“Fine, I won’t push you to talk if you don’t want to.” He said and remained there to show his son he wasn’t alone, and that Tommy loved him even if he claims to hate him.

It’s been half an hour when Gabe speaks again.

“Are you gonna stay there all night?” his boy asked, concerned now.

They were stubborn as mules, times like these made him smile because Polly was right to name him Gabriel Thomas.

“Pol said never go to bed angry, you know. Can’t sleep if you still hate me.” He tells the boy.

Polly was God to them, Saint Polly of Small Heath who was all wise and all loving.

“I don’t hate you, daddy.” The ten-year old said. Been a while since he called Thomas daddy, said he was not a baby and called him dad instead.

“What happened in school today, Gabriel?” he asked again.

He hears the lock on the door unlock and let himself fall when the little boy opened the door. It was stupid, felt stupid doing it, but he knew it made the children more comfortable around him.

“I got in a fight.” He answered, head still bowed, looking at his feet.

“Did you win?” Tommy asked his son and the remorseful little boy nodded.

Should’ve just named him Thomas, Polly, the man thinks as he tries to explain why violence is not always the answer.

----

1939

Charles Henry Shelby is seventeen when he brings his first girlfriend to dinner.

This was a week after war was declared on Germany and Churchill made him part of his Cabinet.

Mary Churchill was the last girl Thomas had expected to see with him.

“They’ve been friends since they were seven, Tom, Clementine even hinted at it at the last picnic we went to.” His wife points out as they dress for dinner. “Swallow your dislike for Churchill and the Tories and welcome your future daughter-in-law like she’s just another girl, love.”

Thomas said nothing and drank the rest of his whiskey.

“Aren’t you going to say something, dad?” Charlie asked concerned.

“Welcome to the family, Mary.” Tommy manages to say.

----

1943

Gabriel Thomas Shelby is seventeen when he brings his third or fourth girlfriend to dinner.

If Thomas thought Mary being his daughter-in-law was terrible, this took the cake.

“Love, I think I’m having a stroke.” Tommy whispers to his wife.

Lucia Changretta.

Luca Changretta’s daughter.

Diane tries to keep the peace, his wife pretends its all fine, Flora had Andy sweating bullets for whatever reason he’ll yell at her later and Charlie is wondering how to explain this to Mary in the most discrete way he can.

“Welcome to the family, Lucia.” Tommy says covering up Mary’s surprised gasp.

Somewhere in hell, Luca is being forced to watch this too.

Other dad!Tommy fics: Diane Elizabeth (Diane) and Six years old (Florence)

[snowbabys]

ʚ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞!𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐭 ����𝐨𝐮 ɞ

(disclaimer: i do not condone this behavior, nor think the idol acts like this in any way. this is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.)

. .. .♡·˚ WARNINGS/NOTES: a little stalking.

. .. .♡·˚ AUTHOR'S NOTES: hello hello!! i felt like writing for itzy, so here it is :) i'll make a direct continuation of this, so stay tuned if you like this one! also feel free to request for itzy! thank you for reading, enjoy~ ♡

☆·˚｡- YEJI and you got accepted as trainees in the same company around the same time but didn’t know of each other’s existence till one day you were put in the same experimental group. you could feel her eyes on you while you were dancing, but though she was just analyzing your abilities as she was the leader of the group and responsible for making your performance acceptable.

when the group finished the lessons for the day, she went to your side while you gathered up your things, her hands shaking as she hadn’t had the chance to talk to you alone yet. she introduced herself properly and complimented you numerous times, later on in the conversation saying how she wanted to be close friends in the future. she was more than happy when you reacted positively, not knowing what was truly going through her mind.

“i’m happy we get to practice together every day.”

☆·˚｡- LIA has gone to her father’s company one day when he insisted it was time for her to start learning the way business worked. you were one of his employees that kept his schedules in order, which meant you were one of his closest coworkers. that fact made you feel nervous when you heard about lia’s visit, you got along pretty well with your boss, so you felt almost obligated to be the same with his daughter.

when she finally arrived, you were starstruck with her looks. her confidence over the top made you feel small being in the same room as her initially, but it all went down when she started talking to you. she had such a loving personality, and the experimental day working with her couldn’t have gone better, her willingness to learn making it all easier. at the end of your shift, she made sure to thank you directly and express how much she loved working with you.

“i could come every day to help you.”

☆·˚｡- RYUJIN had been working with photography most of her life, dedicating everything to it. she had seen many beautiful landscapes and breathtaking people along her way, but nothing had prepared her for the day she first saw you. she was randomly walking through the city, looking for inspiration in the modern tall buildings. seeing someone walking with a red umbrella made it for her, the color contrasting with the grey of the streets and monochrome of people’s clothing. she could already picture the elegant portrait on her wall.

that someone was you. you had no idea you were being photographed while walking to meet your friend a few quarters away. you would probably freak out at the idea of being followed and photographed at the same time, which is exactly what ryujin has done. but to her, she was just getting inspired and following that inspiration.

it got you surprised when a stranger with a huge camera approached you randomly on the sidewalk, asking if you could be the center for some pictures. you never modeled in your life, but seeing the enthusiasm in that stranger’s face made you consider the idea positively. when you agreed to it, she gave you a smile and an okay sign with her hand.

“you look amazing, don’t worry.”

☆·˚｡- CHAERYEONG and you went to the same dance company, you being a beginner whereas she’s been on the company for years, known as one of the best dancers of theirs and your main inspiration. since you were still inexperienced, you didn’t get many chances to be in the same classes with her, but one day, when you finally got the opportunity to do a presentation with the main group, you got to be mentored by chaeryeong herself, the one choreographing most of your dances.

after your lesson with her, she asked you to stay a bit longer, wanting to give you some tips and advice. once she has finished, you felt comfortable telling her you looked up to her and expressed your admiration, not sparing compliments. she couldn’t stop smiling at you, her shy way being long forgotten. it made your day when she asked to hug you, both of you ignoring your sweaty clothes and laughing when she apologized for being stinky.

“thank you! i’m so happy we’re working together.”

☆·˚｡- YUNA was the typical sociable class president, known by the whole school for her charming looks, lovely personality, and admirable intelligence. you were the new student, and on your first day, you found yourself waiting for the class president by the school’s entrance to guide you. she didn’t make you wait, and in a few minutes, there was she, with a warm smile and calming words to prepare you for your first day. she made sure to show you everything, introduce you to your classmates, and give you a brief description of your professors, always cracking a joke to relax you.

minutes before the classes started, she took you to a hidden spot in the school garden, explaining it was her favorite place to come whenever she felt stressed or needed a calm place to study.

“i hope we can come here together to study, i like your presence!” her confidence froze you in place, which only made her smile even bigger. she enlaced her arm with yours and kept chattering while guiding you to your class, showing her friendly side to you. little did you know, the innocent look on her face was just an act to hide her true intentions with you.

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[ssatoritendou]

Love Affair at the Museum

Pairing: gojo/reader

Gojo Saturo

Word count: 2k

+ summary: You are Megumi's babysitter for when Gojo goes out to work. Gojo and you are secretly dating behind the little boys back while going to the museum one day Megumi thwarts Gojo's advances towards you because of Megumi's little crush on you.

Genre: fluff, humor

Warning: N/A

“I’ll be back around 10 p.m. Gumi you be good for ___ like we promised. You be good then we go to the museum tomorrow.”

He gave Gojo a blank stare then responded, “Nanami is coming too?”

“Yes, he said he would. I will tell him again.” He patted his head.

“Don’t worry Mr. Gojo Megumi is always good. Plus I brought a puzzle for us to do.” You told him lifting the puzzle box lid showing the movie Aliens.

You watched as his little blue eyes lit up. He got up from the table he was coloring at and went to push Gojo out of the apartment.

“Someone really likes puzzles.” Gojo chuckled. “Also ___ don’t call me Mr. Gojo we are the same age. If there is an emergency you have my number.” He winked at you.

“Gojo stop hitting on ___ and go already.”

“Alright kiddo I’m going I’m going. Be back soon.”

Megumi slammed the door shut and locked it.

“He’s gone. Can we watch the movie and can you please make ice cream sundaes again?”

You smiled down at him. “You pop the movie in the DVD player and I will prepare the ice cream.”

You scooped the ice cream into small bowls and added Megumi’s favorite toppings which were Oreo cookie crumbles and gummy worms.

You spoiled Megumi. He was a good kid and he was definitely not a wild child.

There were a few things he did like was violence, horror, and ice cream that looked like dirt with worms.

You came over to the den placing the bowls on the coffee table. You sat down at the table across from Megumi.

Seeing paper, crayons, and markers spread across the table. Mixed with a few drawings.

You noticed a picture of black and white dogs. Frogs with wings. Then the ever disturbing photo of Gojo with his unnaturally crystal blue eyes.

“Hey, that is a great portrait of your Uncle.”

“Gojo isn’t my Uncle ___. How many times do I have to tell you? No wonder your mom says you are failing English your comprehension skills are not that great.”

‘The attitude on this kid. Insulting his elders like that. Eavesdropping on a conversation.’

“Gumi it’s disrespectful to say that to your elders. You and I both know this is not the first time you have been caught eavesdropping on other people's conversations. All these attributes you develop from Gojo. You even style your hair like you Uncle.”

He stood up and shuffled his hair around looking at a picture of Gojo and his friends on the wall seeing the resemblance of the hairstyles.

“Hey, guys I got off work early…” Gojo had gotten home to see you and Megumi sitting on the couch watching as Newt was floating in the water waiting for Ripley and Hicks to save her.

“What are you guys watching?”

“Aliens,” Megumi stated shoving some pretzel mix into his mouth.

“Aren’t you seven? Doesn’t this scare little Gumi?”

“I’m not little. I’m almost taller than the kids in my class and Panda.”

Gojo smacked the back of his head at the mention of Panda.

“Kid it’s time for bed.”

“Oh come on Satoru it’s a Friday night the movie is almost over. Just sit down.” You patted the couch.

As the end credits were filling up the screen.

“Can we color?” Megumi asked not wanting to go to bed.

“Megumi it is bedtime. You need your eight hours so you can enjoy the museum tomorrow.” You told him.

“Can you put him to bed? I’ll give you tip.” Gojo flashed his flirtatious smile.

“Anything for my little Megumi.” You pinched Megumi’s cheek.

Megumi jumped onto his bed picking up a quarter and scratching the little square off his movie poster box that read Aliens.

“Next time you watch me can we watch the Dark Knight?”

“Sure. You want the night light on?”

He got a little embarrassed, shoving the blankets over his face. You flipped his wall socket blue light. You went to close the door.

“Oh, Megumi there’s one thing more thing I had to mention..”

“What is it?” He asked.

“I love you goodnight.” You closed the door and went to the front hall.

“The kid asleep?” Gojo asked starring at his phone.

“Yeah out like a light.”

“Great.” He smiled getting up from the couch kissing your cheeks. You giggled at his over affection.

“Hey, how come you never told me that Megumi was not your nephew?”

“I didn’t think I had too I just thought you knew he wasn’t related to me. I thought it was pretty obvious. Wait you thought this whole time that..” The man started laughing his ass off at the thought of Megumi being his actual nephew. “We are dating and you thought I was an uncle. Megumi and I don’t even look alike.”

“Not true you guys style your hair the same way. Gumi must look up to you a little bit.”

He continued laughing handing the cash over. “Here is the money for tonight.”

“Thanks, Gojo and I can babysit anytime Megumi is the best kid.”

“Too you. He can be a brat sometimes. Speaking of which he is going to upset tomorrow.”

“Huh? Why?” You asked putting your items in your backpack and putting the dishes in the sink.

“Nanami can’t come to the museum with us. He has to work tomorrow. He felt bad about not being able to come for Megumi but he is happy he doesn’t have to hang out with me.”

“I can come with you guys.” You stated.

“I don’t know you are a pretty expensive babysitter/ date and I promised Megumi museum food and two gift shop toys.”

“One I will do it free of charge. Two museum food is bad. I will make lunches and I need to get out of the house tomorrow my mom is going to be mad.”

“English?” Gojo asked.

“It is not an easy class.” You argued.

He chuckled again.

“What time do you want me here tomorrow? I’ll pay for my train ticket and museum pass.”

“I’m paying for that stuff. Just make some lunches and be here at 9:30.”

“Who are you making lunch for this morning?” Your mother asked. “You aren’t going out with your friends this weekend missy until you get your English grade up.” She swatted your head with a spoon.

You rubbed the top of your head. “Ma I’m going to the museum with Satoru and Megumi.”

“A date certainly not.”

Your face turned beet red at the comment your mother made about you going on a date with Satoru. “Mom it is not a date. Satoru told me that one of his friends couldn’t come and it would crush Megumi. Look at him mom, I couldn’t let the kid get his heart crushed.” You show a picture of Megumi that was on your phone.

“That Satoru is very irresponsible. Getting a girl pregnant at a young age and now a single dad.”

“Mom I have told you a million times that he isn’t his dad. He is his guardian. Megumi’s father and mother passed away and his stepmother too. Gojo told him that he would take care of him.”

“What kind of grown man lets a teenager take care of his child?”

“According to Gojo, their families have a special connection something about them working with the same organization or company.” Her eyes went wide, she gasped to ready to yell about you hanging out with a gangster. “Mom they are not in the mafia or were in the mafia. Satoru does not have any tattoos. And I don’t like gossiping about this. I’m going to finish making our lunches and then I’m going to go up to their apartment and leave.”

She hummed. “Be home before 4 o’clock.”

“Ok, mom.” You kissed the side of her face and wrapped up the little boxed lunches.

“So Gumi what are you most excited to see at the museum?” You asked holding his hand walking inside the building.

“The dinosaur exhibit.” He said confidently.

“Me too buddy,” Gojo said.

“I personally am excited about the sea life exhibit. I wonder if you got on Gojo’s shoulders if you can touch the whale's nose.” You said.

“Let’s test that theory.” Gojo picked up Megumi and put him effortlessly on his shoulders. “Hold the hair Buddy up there.” Gojo held your hand going into the museum.

Megumi felt a tinge of jealousy go through him. He tugged at Gojo’s white locks.

“Hey kid easy with the grip. I’m going to get our tickets can you put our jackets in the check.” Gojo gave you his and Megumi’s jackets. You nodded and went left as he went right for the tickets.

The first exhibit was the dinosaurs, Megumi asked to get down from Gojo’s shoulders and went to running around the museum as the pair of you watch him.

But it was like the kid had a sixth sense as soon as Gojo got an inch of you. Whether it was holding your hand or putting his arm around your shoulders, Megumi was dragging you away to look at the dinosaurs.

Even when you finished those exhibits and went to a little galaxy film he sat in between the two of you.

As soon as you got to the sea life exhibit Megumi went back up on Satoru’s shoulders.

He told Gojo to go straight for the whale. He reached for the whale with his small hands. You were a few feet behind them taking a picture of them.

Megumi tugged at Gojo’s hair while they were alone.

“What is it kiddo?”

“Do you like ___?” He asked nervously.

“Sure I do Buddy. I have to make sure you are being taken care of by someone I like and trust when I’m out.”

“I mean do you like-like her?”

Gojo sighed pulling him down. “Something tells me with your sneaking around and always lurking in the doorways you already know that answer. Which is a good thing for a sorcerer to know but for a kid is troublesome. Sorcerers and teachers keep coming to me about it.”

Megumi puffed his cheeks out and huffed. “You taught me to do that.”

“Ok ok, we can talk about this another day. But yes I like her. I am scared though.”

“You get scared?”

“Yeah of course I get scared. I’m scared now because she is normal. She is lucky to not live as we do. I’m also afraid of what my parents will think of her even if I think they are shit people. You will understand that when you are older. However, I know I can handle it as life goes on.” Gojo told him. “Do you have a crush on ___?”

“NO!” Megumi shouted.

Gojo wrapped his hands around Megumi’s face. Parents around the museum starred him down. “Not trying to kidnap just trying to stop a tantrum.” Gojo laughed.

You walked over to them. “Gumi is this gnome bothering you?”

He nodded his head yes.

“Remember what I taught you to do when Gojo covers your mouth.”

Megumi thought for a minute and then a light bulb went over his head. He licked the palm of Saturo’s hand.

“Of course you taught him that.” He said pulling his hand away. “Come on let us go to the cafe and eat the little boxed lunches ___ made for us.” Gojo came back up and kissed your cheek. Walking towards the door to the courtyard.

You were a little shocked and you stuttered some syllables following after him and Megumi.

“Don’t worry cutie he already knows. He has been eavesdropping and watching.”

“Some of that content was not safe for children.” You smushed your face into your hands.

“As soon as you started kissing Gojo I closed my door and started playing with my dogs.”

“What dogs?” You asked.

Gojo smacked his head again. “Gumi we will cross that bridge when we get there.” He growled.

“Sorry. I have secret dogs.” He made a puppet with his hands in the sunlight.

“Aw shadow puppet dogs. Those are cute.”

Gojo gave Megumi a warning look so he wouldn’t say the keyword. He stuck his tongue out.

“Alright, let's eat boys, and then I have to go home.”

Gojo smiled at you and sat down across from you and Megumi. He finally had a little family again. He hoped it wouldn’t get ruined by him or his life.