#Life is just sped up smooth jazz

[shakespeareanwannabe]

One Hell of a Year: March

Summary:  When Molly Henderson makes the move from Chicago to Lockhart, Texas, she doesn’t expect much. A new teaching job, a new community, and maybe a few new friends, but what she didn’t expect was to meet Michael Perry, a man with a heart of gold, October eyes, and a smile that made her tummy do a strange little flip-flop. With Michael by her side, Molly finds that she may just be able to not only find a life in Lockhart, but thrive there as well.

Warnings: language, references to an abusive relationship, use of alcohol, references to failed relationships, references to marriage, references to lovemaking

Disclaimers: Nothing recognizable belongs to me. 

Molly watched her hand float through the wind as the old truck sped down the I-79 towards Pittsburgh, a small smile on her face as smooth jazz poured out of the truck’s CD player.

“You really like that jazz album I picked up for you at the hotel in New Orleans, huh?” she hummed, closing her eyes briefly to focus on the breeze cooling her face.

Michael’s thumb gently traced the back of her hand as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “What can I say? You’ve got good taste in music. Jazz and otherwise. I still can’t believe one of your favourite songs is I’m Yours.”

“Like you said, I have great taste in music. And in men…” she grinned, turning her head to squint at him against the bright light of the setting sun.

“And men, if I do say so myself,” he grinned, pulling her hand up and kissing the same path his thumb had been tracing for the past hour.

“I mean, it’s incontrovertible, baby,” she smiled, gently freeing her hand to dig in her backpack that was stowed in the footwell of the truck. With a small huff, she pulled free her digital camera, turning it on to scroll through the gallery of photos that had been taken on their road trip so far. The cab driver of their horse and carriage tour in New Orleans had been nice enough to take a photo of the two of them with his horse, the black mare nuzzling in between them as they tried to kiss, the laughter clear on both their faces. Dozens of candid shots that Molly had snapped of Michael as they took their Ghosts, Vampires, and Voodoo walking tour, and one of Molly with powdered sugar all over her face, her plate of beignets tilting precariously as she laughed. Their single day in New Orleans hadn’t been enough, and both members of the couple had agreed to visit again as soon as they could. The old-world magic charm of New Orleans faded into photos of Michael’s profile as they had sped along the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, where they stopped in Folly Beach for a relaxing day of sun and surf.

“Just look at you, baby,” she cooed, tilting the camera towards him so he could glance down at the photo of him, sticking his tongue out at her from the driver’s seat. “You’re adorable, and the only explanation for that is my incredible taste in men.”

“I’m sure my old man will be happy to hear that genetics has nothing to do with it,” he joked, returning his attention to the empty stretch of freeway ahead of him. They were only about an hour or so outside of Pittsburgh, the sun setting quickly, and Michael wanted to make it there before the hotel restaurant closed.

Molly hummed, lost in her thoughts as she continued to scroll through the photos. They had spent an entire day at Folly Beach, something that Molly would be eternally grateful for. Michael’s skin had taken on a sun-kissed glow that made him even more drool worthy, and Molly knew she would treasure the photos of her shirtless boyfriend relaxing in the sun and sand for many years to come.

Her gaze softened at a few pictures of the two of them cuddled up on the same beach blanket, Molly dozing with her head in Michael’s lap as he read aloud from the trashy romance novel that she had brought with her. Michael had snagged the camera out of her bag and taken a few photos of her, followed by the photo of them together. It wasn’t perfect. The background was blurry and neither of them were perfectly in frame, but to Molly it was the epitome of perfection. She hadn’t felt safe enough to fall asleep in someone’s lap since…since she had been a toddler and had gone to a baseball game with her grandfather. She had gotten bored and crawled into his lap, falling asleep before the fifth inning. That was the last time…until Michael had swept into her life and enveloped her in his strength and his honesty.

“Hey…” she murmured, briefly drawing his attention away from the road.

“Hmm?”

She smiled softly. “I love you.”

Michael lifted her hand with a soft squeeze and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I love you too.”

When Molly eventually got around to scrapbooking their Pittsburgh trip, she’d be hard pressed to pick and choose between the photos she had gathered over their three-day stay.

The photo of the two of them cuddled up in front of Mr. Roger’s living room was definitely a keeper. Both Michael and Molly had gotten emotional at the Heinz History Museum as they strolled through the memories of their childhoods, weaving in between the set pieces that had kept them both entertained for years. When the kindly museum worker had walked by and offered to take their photo in front of the iconic set, they had both jumped at the chance and, as the flash went off, Molly couldn’t help but think of showing the photo, as well as the old Mr. Roger’s Neighbourhood episodes, to their own children one day.

The photo of the two of them on the PNC Carousel would also be going in the scrap book. Molly had managed to snap a quick pic while she and Michael rode side by side on the musical ride. She felt that the photo really captured the essence of their relationship, what with Michael leaning over to kiss her and Molly giggling like mad when he couldn’t reach.

There was a snapshot of Michael leaning over the railing of the Hofbräuhaus, the river glittering in the background as he turned his head to smile at her. It was a memory she was sure to treasure, as much as she treasured the memory of returning to their hotel room that night and making love into the wee hours of the morning. She had been sore during their walking tour of Market Square for sure, but it had been worth it.

The most artistic photo in the collection had to be the photo Molly had taken of their reflections in the fountain at Point State Park. The Sun had come out to play with them and they had spent the afternoon sipping coffee and talking in the park. When they got up to throw out their cardboard coffee cups, they had passed by the fountain and Molly had been quick to stop for the photo op. Michael’s arms wrapped around her waist so tightly she almost felt like she couldn’t breathe, but also felt oh so safe, like the outside world was unable to reach her so long as she stayed in his grasp.

Another kindly stranger had taken their photo at Mount Washington. Michael had surprised Molly early on their second day, dragging her out of their bed before the sun had even arisen, stating that he wouldn’t be a good tour guide if he didn’t take her to see the best sunrise the city had to offer. With coffee in their travel mugs and pastries from the hotel’s continental breakfast, they had made their way across the river to Mount Washington. When she would look at the sweet photo later on, it wouldn’t bother Molly that neither of them had ended up in the shot, their volunteer photographer having aimed far above their heads. She would look at the bright pinks and oranges of the sunrise and remember the sweet good morning kiss Michael had bestowed upon her as his former city came awake.

The final photo that she would treasure was the photo provided to them by the media staff at the PPG Paints Arena. Molly’s surprise for Michael had been tickets to see the Pittsburgh Penguins face off against the Washington Capitals on home ice, an experience he had lamented not being able to do before he left for Texas. Though Molly knew they might come to regret the late night, what with them having to rise early the next morning and begin the near-day long trip home, she was ecstatic that she had been able to give him a gift that he would cherish. With neither of them being novices when it came to hockey, they had screamed and cheered for the boys in black and gold as they battled against Ovechkin and his cohort. When the infamous Kiss Cam had landed upon them during the intermission for the second period, both had been embarrassed but game to participate, leaning in and sharing a saccharine smooch for the camera. As the buzzer rang for the final intermission of the game, an arena attendant had approached them and provided them with the framed photo of their broadcasted kiss, which Molly already knew would be proudly displayed in her bedroom.

All the photos were testaments to the love they had for one another, as well as the success of their first trip taken as a couple.

“I love you…” Molly whispered against his lips, bestowing upon him another kiss before stowing the photo in her purse.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” Michael murmured, nuzzling her neck until the cheers of the crowd poured over them as the Penguins retook the ice.

As he watched the sea of red and gold players battle for the puck, he felt his shoulders sink down and his heart slow. After the game, they’d go back to the hotel, and they’d be out of Pittsburgh by 6 am the next morning. Everything would be fine.

“Baby, the picture’s not going to disappear!” Michael laughed loudly as they strolled the short distance from the arena to the hotel.

“I’m sorry!” Molly whined playfully, tucking the picture back where it belonged. “We’re just so damn cute, Michael!”

Michael opened his mouth to retaliate but found his mouth dry when a young voice shouted, “Michael!”

Both their heads whipped around, staring through the mob of people exiting the arena.

“I-it was probably a different Michael,” he chuckled weakly, hand on Molly’s elbow to gently guide her back the way they had been going. “One of the perils of having an extremely popular name. All of a sudden, you’re hearing your name everywhere.”

Molly chewed her lip. “Yeah, I guess.” She glanced up at him and noticed how his warm brown eyes were suddenly shifting all over the place, as though he was assessing a threat. “Baby, what’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”

Michael reluctantly relinquished his gentle grip on her as his hand came up to tug on his coat collar. “M-maybe I had too much beer at the game.”

“You had one,” Molly pointed out gently, tugging them both out of the way of oncoming pedestrian traffic. “Maybe those fried oysters for lunch aren’t agreeing with you?”

“I—”

“Michael!”

Michael turned his head to look down the street and saw a young blonde girl waving at him from an open door.

“Malia?”

The girl paused to pull on her coat before racing down the sidewalk and barrelling into him, wrapping him in a huge hug. “Michael!” she squealed as he wrapped his arms around her. “I got your email that you were coming, but I never heard back when I asked whether you’d be able to swing by!”

Michael chuckled awkwardly, risking a glance over at a bewildered Molly before focusing on the teenager in front of him. It had been five years since he had seen her, and it was insane to see how much she had grown.

“Wow, Malia, you’re so big now!”

The teenager rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that tends to happen after five years. How was your trip? Oohhh, this must be Molly! Hi, I’m Malia!” The young blond launched herself at Molly and gave her a big hug, not noticing how taken aback the older woman was.

“Uh, hi, Malia. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too!” she squealed, smiling at them both. “I saw you two kiss on the kiss cam. So adorbs, by the way, and I thought, “OMG, what if they walk this way after the game?” And I poked by head out of the bar when I saw the crowd going by, and I was right! I just had to come and say hello!”

“Bar? Malia, you’re sixteen, what’re you doing in a bar?” Michael asked sternly, crossing his arms.

The young girl rolled her eyes. “Chill, Mr. Perry. It’s fine. It’s my mom’s bar and we live in the apartment upstairs. It’s super nice. A step up from that crappy place we used to live in. Remember how the elevator was always broken? Oh! Do you want to come in and say hi to mom? She saw you on the kiss cam too! C’mon, she’d be so excited!”

Malia grabbed Michael’s arm and started dragging him towards the dim sports bar with bright neon signs decorating the windows. Without thinking, Michael reached out and snagged Molly’s hand as he got towed along in the wild wake of the teenage girl he had once known.

Molly stood in the doorway, a bit put off by what she had just witnessed.

First, a random teenager runs out of a bar and wraps her boyfriend in a hug. Not completely out of the ordinary, given that Michael was a teacher in Pittsburgh and his early students would be teenagers now. But talking about mom? The place they lived? Insinuating that Michael knew about her home? That all just added up to nothing good.

Then, she gets tugged along by her boyfriend, who is suspiciously avoiding her gaze, into this sports bar, which she wouldn’t normally be opposed to, only to watch him gently hug another woman. A pretty, similarly aged woman who approached Michael with an air of familiarity.

“Hey Michael.”

He smiled softly. “Hey Jaime. How are you?”

Jaime. Not a name she recognized. She’d heard about a Stacy, his high school girlfriend who had cashed in his V-card. She’d heard of a Dominique, an exchange student from Paris that he had a friends with benefits relationship with during college. She’d even heard of Nicolette, the teacher’s aid he had met while he was working with Teach for America.

There had been Sandy, Trisha, Rachel, and, right before her, Jessica, the neighbour three doors down that shot daggers at her every time she saw her. A casual thing that had run its course long before Molly had even set foot in Texas, not that that made a difference to Jessica.

Michael had been extremely forthcoming about all of his relationships. Flings, one night stands, friends with benefits…but no Jaime. Why was there no mention of a Jaime?

“Molly?”

The woman in question raised her eyes and nodded with a small hum.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Molly,” Jaime smiled at her.

Molly forced herself to take a deep breath and hauled a smile onto her face. “It’s really nice to meet you too, Jaime. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Molly saw Michael’s head swing in her direction, but she didn’t dare meet his gaze.

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Jaime smiled. “Malia’s told me quite a bit about you too. Well, at least what she got from Michael’s emails. It was really nice of him to keep in touch after he went back home to Texas. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without him.”

Molly’s cheeks ached from holding the smile on her face. “Yeah, Michael sure is one of a kind.”

Jaime nodded. “He really is something special.” She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Don’t you let him go, now. I made that mistake.”

Molly leaned back and tried not to let the hurricane of emotion swirling within her come out. Jaime seemed genuinely nice. Not threatening. Her statement came across more as a word of caution than a threat. And yet, all Molly could feel was this threatening black cloud looming over the bar, its wispy tendrils reaching out to snatch Michael away from her.  

“D-don’t worry,” Molly murmured, finally finding her tongue. “I won’t.”

Jaime smiled encouragingly at her. “That’s good. I can tell you make him really happy. I saw you on the Kiss Cam at the Pens game. You two seem really in love.”

Molly straightened. She knew it was true on her end. She’d been open and honest with him for months about who she was and the baggage she was carrying. Now, perhaps this situation didn’t warrant this level of suspicion. Perhaps this was just a super awkward encounter with an ex that they would laugh about later. But something inside of her told her that wasn’t the case. Maybe it was the years of experience having to know instinctively when her students were up to something, or maybe she was just born with a radar for knowing when things weren’t adding up.

For the first time since they stepped into the bar, Molly took a look over at Michael, who was staring directly into her soul with a look on his face that she couldn’t quite read. She blinked at him before turning back to Jaime, that fake smile still straining her facial muscles.

“We are. I’m so lucky.”

Jaime smiled over Molly’s shoulder as Michael strolled over to join them, hesitantly resting a hand on Molly’s shoulder.

“It was really nice catching up, Jaime, but I think we should head out. We’ve got a long drive back to Texas in the morning.”

It was Jaime’s turn to blink at him. “Oh. Okay. I understand. I just…I was hoping to get a chance to speak with you. Just…get some closure?”

Michael turned and looked beseechingly at Molly, who sighed and nodded hesitantly. “As long as we’re back at the hotel by midnight, we should be okay. We’ve got that hotel booked in Shreveport anyway, just in case the traffic is bad.”

Michael squeezed her shoulder as he leaned in and kissed her temple. “Thank you. We should just be a minute or two.” Molly nodded, casting her eyes down at the sticky linoleum floor. “Jaime, do you mind if we talk outside? You know, for some privacy?”

Jaime nodded for a second before turning to Malia. “I really shouldn’t leave her in the bar by herself.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Molly heard herself say, watching Jaime’s eyes soften with appreciation.

“Thank you. We won’t be long.”

Molly watched the door swing shut and felt her heart clench as her boyfriend disappeared down the street with his ex.

“Umm…Molly? Do you want to sit? Have a drink?” Malia piped up softly, coming to stand next to her.

Molly chuckled under her breath. “I don’t think you’re allowed to serve the kind of drink I need right now.”

Malia giggled. “Well, that’s true. But I know how to whip up a mean virgin Shirley Temple?”

Molly chuckled. No matter how she felt about this situation, the people at least seemed really nice. “That sounds amazing, Malia. Thank you.”

Malia guided her to one of the bar stools before ducking behind the bar and pouring copious amounts of grenadine into two plastic glasses.

“So, uh…forgive me if this is out of line, but…you don’t know anything about us, do you?

Molly chuckled morosely. “I honestly don’t. I’m sorry.”

“No, hey, that’s cool. I wouldn’t want to drag my new girlfriend into my old crap either, so I kinda get why Michael didn’t want to tell you. But…” the young girl stretched the word as she garnished the drinks with an orange slice and maraschino cherries. “I am super stoked to get to meet you. Michael told me all about you in his emails. I can tell he really loves you.”

Molly felt her face flush. “I really love him too. And I can tell you really care about him.”

Malia nodded as she made her way back around the bar, two glasses of pink liquid in her hand. “Yeah. He really helped me and my mom,” she replied, hopping up on the neighbouring barstool and handing over a glass. “He helped my mom and Miss Nona save my school and get me the help I needed.” At the sight of Molly’s furrowed brow, Malia laughed and continued. “My school was trash and my teacher sucked ass. Nobody gave a damn until my mom decided to take over the school and make it better. She and Michael and Miss Nona did some legal stuff and got petitions and signs made, and they had to go to the school board, but in the end, they won. They got more funding and they were able to fire the teachers who didn’t give a crap.”

Molly blinked. All the time that they had spent together, and Michael had never thought to mention that he had participated in a takeover like that? She knew that he was passionate about school reform and holding teachers accountable, but to that level? She felt like she was talking about a stranger and not the man who had slept beside her pretty much consistently since October.

“Wow…I had no idea.”

Malia nodded, toying with the straw in her glass. “And since I’m dyslexic, it really helped to have a teacher who actually wanted to help me, y’know? Michael really helped me feel confident in my reading and writing. It helped that he was over every night too, to spend time with my mom.”

Molly smiled softly despite the pang in her chest. “I can imagine. Michael definitely has a way about him. You can just tell that he wants to help and he’ll move Heaven and Earth to do so.”

Malia nodded, sipping from her glass. “At first, I thought he was just trying to be nice to me to get closer to my mom. But I realized after a while that it was actually the opposite. Just by being nice to me, my mom fell for him.”

“H—” Molly’s throat was so tight she choked, sipping on her sweet drink to hide her struggle. “How long were they together for?”

Malia shrugged. “Two years or something like that.”

Molly nodded thoughtfully, her blood racing in her ears. Two years was a long time. Long enough for some people to want more, like marriage and children. She always thought that Michael was one of those people, who would want that typical life sooner rather than later. It’s something she wanted sooner rather than later, and she had always felt like they were on the same page about that.

“…Molly?”

“Hmm?” she startled, glancing up to find Malia staring at her. “Yes, sorry. It’s been a long day,” she chuckled nervously. “Wh-what were you saying?”

Malia bit her lip. “It’s okay. It wasn’t important.”

Molly frowned. “Malia, listen…I know you don’t know me and that you might have some negative feelings about me and Michael because of his break up with your mom, but—”

“Oh my god, no!” Malia blurted, reaching out to grab Molly’s wrist. “No way, I don’t hate you or anything! I was just saying that I was really happy to see Michael looking so happy. He looked so happy on that Kiss Cam, smiling at you. I’m so glad he was able to find someone to make him happy after his mom got sick and he had to leave.”

Molly blushed, flipping her hand to squeeze the teenager’s hand in her own. “Thank you. Michael’s lucky to have you as a friend.”

Malia shrugged, a light blush painting her cheeks in the dim lighting of the bar. “I mean, we were going to be family before his mom got sick and he had to move back home.”

Molly stilled, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she was surprised that Malia couldn’t feel it thrumming in her wrist. “I…I’m sorry?”

Malia didn’t look up from where she was stirring the dregs of her Shirley Temple. “He wanted us to move with him. He had a ring and everything, had me help him pick it out so that it was my mom’s style. But then she didn’t want to leave the school and Miss Nona and uproot me from school and all my friends. So they fought. He couldn’t stay. She wouldn’t leave. And that was the end of it.” Malia frowned down at her glass.

The blood was roaring in her ears again. Malia might have been fleshing out her story, but Molly had no idea. She couldn’t hear anything. Not Malia, not the music playing in the bar, not her own heartbeat drumming in her ears, not even the tiny bell over the door as Michael and Jaime returned from their walk.

She flinched violently as a soft hand came down on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly, but to Molly, it felt like a vice.

“Hey, hey, easy, sweetheart,” Michael soothed in that voice that usually calmed her heart and made her melt. “It’s just me. We should be getting back to the hotel.”

“It was great catching up with you, Michael,” Jaime smiled, wrapping her arms around Malia’s neck. “And it was really nice meeting you, Molly.”

“Y-you too,” she murmured, her body feeling like it was slogging through a thick soup, every bone and muscle in her body reacting slower, as though the air had just gotten too thick to breathe.

“Bye, Michael!” Malia leapt up and hugged him before turning to Molly and repeating her actions. “Bye, Molly!”

“B-bye…”

Michael used a gentle hand on her shoulder to guide her back outside the bar, where the once bustling street by PGA Paints arena was now quiet.

One step, two steps, and Molly shrugged Michael’s hand off her shoulder. The heat and weight of it was unbearable, even in the chilly Pittsburgh air. The smell of his cologne was clogging her nostrils and she swore that, if he spoke, the sound of his voice would shatter her eardrums.

He seemed to understand that something was off, as he didn’t question her actions, just kept pace with her as they trekked back to the hotel in darkness.

That thick, heavy silence followed them through the lobby of the hotel, up the elevator, and into their room. It followed Molly as she entered the bathroom and completed her nighttime routine. It chased after her when she bypassed Michael as she left the bathroom and all but collapsed onto the bed, listening to the bathroom door click closed and the shower start up as she allowed her eyes to drift closed despite the tears that were pooling in them.

By the time Michael emerged from the shower, his short hair glistening in the dim lamplight of the hotel room, Molly had fallen into a deep but restless sleep atop the covers. Michael sighed sadly as he gently, tenderly, lovingly tucked his sleeping girlfriend into bed, stooping to kiss her forehead and brush a stray tear off her cheek.

Leaning over to shut off the lamp, Michael sighed. This was everything he had been afraid of, and he could only blame himself. He knew he had been keeping his old life in Pittsburgh a secret from Molly. He knew it wasn’t sustainable. He knew he should’ve come clean a long time ago, but he didn’t know that it would lead to this giant gaping wound between them, this Grand Canyon that left him reaching out for her while not knowing if he’d ever get to hold her again. Michael sighed again, gently falling back onto the firm hotel mattress and fighting the temptation to roll over and hug Molly close to his body.

As tendrils of sleep began to gently wind their way around his mind and body, Michael resolved to fix things in the morning. He wouldn’t lose her. Not like this, not ever, if he had anything to say about it.

When Molly woke early the next morning, it was like waking from a dream to find yourself in a nightmare.

She had finally fallen into a deep sleep in the wee hours of the morning, dreaming of dancing down the street in New Orleans as the jazz music poured out of a nearby bar. Their whole trip had been like a dream, all sparkles and sweetness, all soft and warm around the edges, like a favourite blanket.

That morning, at five a.m., she woke up cold. Her heart felt heavy in her chest, and her skull and the base of her neck ached with the pressure of her thoughts. She couldn’t tell if she was overreacting, underreacting, or completely taking the situation out of context.

She only knew three things for sure.

One, Michael was keeping a cordial relationship with his ex’s daughter. Not something to be mad about. Malia seemed sweet. They had also shared a tutor/student relationship, something that Molly herself was no stranger to. Overall, not a problem.

Two, Michael had fought for educational reform at his school in Pittsburgh. Slight problem. Not because of the reform, because that was something they both agreed needed to happen. No, it was a slight problem because they’d spoken about their highs and lows in teaching before, but never once had he mentioned the takeover that he had taken part in. Perhaps Renata didn’t know. Perhaps he had become disillusioned with teaching when there had been no support from the union. She was peeved that he had never shared it with her but could understand that perhaps his teaching experience in Pittsburgh hadn’t been something he wanted to share. Overall, a slight problem but not a big deal.

Three, Michael had an ex-girlfriend in Pittsburgh that he had been planning on proposing to. Giant, waving red flag. Not the ex part. That was understandable. Everyone had a past, Molly included. She couldn’t and would never get mad at someone she loved for living their life before she became a part of it. That wouldn’t be fair. What sent her heart plummeting down towards her toes was that he hadn’t trusted her to talk about that part of his life. Of course, the end of a relationship that you saw lasting the rest of your life would be traumatic. And Molly would be able to understand Michael’s hesitance to speak on the subject if he had only mentioned her. Just once. If he had mentioned Malia at all, even in passing.

“Hi, I’m Michael Perry and I sometimes keep in touch with my ex-girlfriend’s daughter because we formed an educational bond. Why’d we break up? I was going to propose but my mom got sick, and I had to move back home. She wouldn’t move with me, so we split…” Molly mumbled under her breath, pressing her knuckles into her eyelids. “It’s not that hard…especially after your girlfriend shares the story of her fucking abusive relationship.”

Molly sniffed and stood on creaky knees, her joints aching from being wrapped up in a ball all night.

She didn’t want to be judging Michael too harshly. She loved him and she knew from experience that he loved hard. That his breakup with Jaime must have been devastating since he had wanted to marry her. And she didn’t want to compare relationship trauma because that wasn’t fair to either of them, but hadn’t she shown that he could trust her with the big stuff? She had opened up about her past relationships months ago. She had spilled her guts all over the floor like leftover Christmas gift wrapping, and he had helped her sort through it and clean it up, sewing the wound shut with so much love and devotion that she could barely feel its ache anymore. And yet, now it felt like it was pushing against the long-healed stitches, infected with some sort of parasite that she hadn’t known to watch for.

Secrets.

She had none. She had told him all about her grandfather and her ex-boyfriend, how she had ended up in Texas and how she had gotten her house. She thought he didn’t have any either. He had, albeit reluctantly, opened up about his mother’s death. He talked about how much he struggled with being a mandatory reporter because it meant knowing how badly his students were hurting. She knew about his flings, his relationships, his loves, his losses. Everything except this relationship, this love, this loss. And that threw a giant red flag in the air that covered all the green flags, shrouded them in this bloody blanket that disguised every good thing about their relationship as a possible detonator, a potential trigger, a threat to her happiness.

“H-hey…you’re awake.”

She lifted her head and saw Michael standing in the doorway, two cups of take-out coffee in his hands and a sheepish look on his face.

Despite her body feeling like a million pounds, she stood up slowly and shuffled towards the bathroom.

“Yeah.”

Michael carefully placed one cup of coffee on the dresser. “I’ve already got all my stuff packed. I can head down and check us out while you’re in the shower, if you want. Then we can get going. And hopefully…talk on the way home?”

Molly’s eyes sunk closed.

“Look, Michael…I know we need to talk but I had a shitty night’s sleep and I don’t know if I have the emotional strength to have this conversation right now, okay?”

He flinched back slightly, unused to the biting edge of her words. “Y-yeah, okay. That’s…that’s fine. You should nap in the car. Maybe that would make you feel better. And it’ll keep you from getting car sick too. I don’t mind if you sleep, if that’s what you need.”

Molly felt tears well up in her eyes and she quickly turned away from him, heading into the bathroom. “That would be great. Thanks.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Michael’s head hung. It truly was the worst feeling in the world to be so close to the person you love, and yet so far away.

The drive from Pittsburgh to Shreveport was markedly different from the drive they took on the way there. There was no singing along to the songs on the radio. There was no pulling over and taking pictures of random, awesome things they saw along the way. There was no handholding, no casual conversation that evolved into deep, meaningful discussions about their future together, no ‘just because’ kisses over the centre consol.

Michael focused on driving while Molly slept. While they had traded off on the way to Pittsburgh, each of them taking turns driving so the other could rest, there was no such trade off this time. The only sound in the car was Michael tapping on the steering wheel with his thumb, wondering how they had gotten to this point.

Things had been good in New Orleans, in Folly Beach, even those first few days of Pittsburgh. Hell, while they had been wandering the French Quarter, Michael had even found his eyes being drawn towards jewelry stores, his eyes scanning the glittering rings in the front window, wondering how each one would look on Molly’s finger. He knew they were only a few months into this thing between them, but he could feel it in his bones that this was it for him. And now they were barely speaking.

Sighing tiredly, Michael flipped on his turn signal and pulled into the parking lot of the hotel in Shreveport they had booked for their return drive. He took a moment to bury his face in his hands, rubbing the sadness out of his eyes like sand before reaching over and gently shaking Molly.

Despite her soft, smooth breathing, she woke immediately, no signs of sleep in her eyes.

“We’re here…” he murmured softly, staring out at the dark stretch of pavement and the warm, welcoming lights of the hotel.

She nodded back at him, crawling out of the truck and stretching once her feet hit solid ground.

Michael followed her lead, stopping at the bed of the truck to pull their suitcases out. Without a word spoken, Molly held out her hand and took hers, dropping it down to the ground with a thud as she began to roll it across the rocky pavement.

Michael watched her go, an unknown feeling building in his chest.

“Molly?” The word burst from his lips like a volcano, shattering the stillness of the night.

Her head hung as she hesitated. “Michael…”

“Is this how it’s gonna be now?” he asked with a lump in his throat. “I get that I fucked up, but the silent treatment isn’t exactly going to fix things.”

She sighed, the sound carrying through the cold night air. “I know that…but I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Something,” he replied, desperation dripping from his voice. “Anything. Honey, you’ve gotta know that I never meant for this to hurt you. I…I didn’t even think that it would be that big of a deal. You know that I’ve dated before, that there are ex-girlfriends out there.”

She laughed humourlessly. “That’s the problem, Michael. You didn’t think. I know that there are exes. We’ve both got them. But an ex that you were going to marry? That you bought a ring for? How the hell could you not think to mention something so important?”

He flinched at the cutting edge of her words. “I told you, I didn’t think! Jaime is so far in my past that—”

“That you still keep in touch with her daughter?” Molly challenged, stepping closer to him in the dark. “You can’t tell me that you forgot all about her but managed to not forget about her child!”

“Of course, I didn’t forget about her, but I don’t see her in a romantic light! I haven’t for a long time! My mother was dying, for Christ’s sake! I shoved all thoughts of romance out of my head for a long time!”

“I know that!” she cried, her hand raising to massage her temple. “I know that you did because I did the same thing! The problem is, I shared that with you almost three months ago! You didn’t think it was a good idea to share the shitty end of your relationship then?”

“What did you want me to say, Molly?” he griped. “‘Sorry your ex was an abusive asshole that you managed to escape from when your grandfather died. I was gonna marry my ex, but she refused to uproot her life in Pittsburgh when my mom got fucking cancer. What a coincidence?’? I wanted to give you time!”

“Three months, Michael! I told you all that at Christmas! It’s March Break now! You’ve had God knows how many chances to tell me about it since! You could’ve told me instead of skulking around Pittsburgh for three days, trying to avoid your ex and her daughter!”

“Hey!” he shouted sharply. “We had a great trip, and I wasn’t trying to avoid them!”

“No? Then why didn’t you want to show me the school you worked at?” she crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Is it because you were afraid of me running into someone who would tell me all about how the great Michael Perry helped save the school and fell in love in the process?”

“It’s because I wanted to focus on you! On us! I wanted us to have a break from being Mr. Perry and Ms. Henderson! No teacher talk, no Professional Development, just me and my beautiful girlfriend, enjoying a relaxing vacation! And it was great until now!”

“You mean it was great until all your secrets started crumbling down,” Molly muttered, grabbing her suitcase, and dragging it towards the hotel, her shoulders hunched.

“Molly! Molly, c’mon!” Michael grabbed his bag from the truck and chased after her, only catching up once she was standing at the front desk.

“Hi there, we have a reservation. Name is Michael Perry,” Michael panted at the tired looking clerk behind the desk.

He tapped at the computer for a moment before nodding. “Single bed, one night?”

“Yeah, that’s—”

“That’s us, but would it be possible to get an additional room for the night?” Molly piped up, pointedly ignoring Michael’s searching eyes.

The man huffed and tapped at the keyboard again. “For an additional $450, I can put you in adjoining rooms.”

Molly huffed. “Never mind then.”

The man looked at her, then glanced over at Michael’s set jaw and tense eyes. “Or…” he sighed, typing something into the computer. “I can put you in a room with two twin beds. It’s only fifty dollars extra.”

“Perfect,” Molly chirped, glaring at Michael as if daring him to say something.

“Yeah, great…thanks,” he muttered, grabbing the room key out of the clerk’s hand.

“Have a good night,” the clerk called at their backs as they headed towards the elevator.

“I thought we agreed that, if anything went wrong between us, we’d be able to act like professionals,” he hissed as the doors to the elevator opened, a tired family of six exiting with their bags.

“That’s at school. We never said anything about vacations,” Molly replied simply, punching in the floor number. “But we are fighting, and I’m not about to sleep next to a man who doesn’t respect me enough to tell me about his almost-engagement.”

“This has nothing to do with me not respecting you,” he groaned as the elevator let them off on their floor. “I respect the hell out of you, Molly. You know that. You know me!”

“Yeah, I thought I did,” she muttered, punching her keycard into the electronic lock and watching the lights turn green.

“You do!” he pleaded as they walked into the room, the two twin beds standing like firm sentinels against the wall. He hated the very sight of them.

“How can I know you when you hid years of your life from me?” Molly asked desperately, her hand coming to her forehead. “I didn’t know about your work at the school, standing up against the school board, your work with Malia, your near engagement to Jaime, any of it! It’s like Pittsburgh Michael is a total mystery to me!”

“I will tell you anything you want to know, Molly. All you have to do is ask!” he pleaded, leaning against the bed closest to the door.

She shook her head, and, when she spoke, her voice was choked up with tears. “I-I can’t do this right now. I’m too tired and you’re exhausted from driving all day. We need to sleep.”

“Yeah, fat chance of that,” Michael muttered, pulling the comforter off the bed.

“I’m sure you’ll survive one night,” she mumbled, copying his actions before disappearing into the bathroom with a click of the door.

Michael groaned as he sat on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. His body was sore from being in the car all day. His mind ached from the focus of driving for almost 17 hours. And his heart felt shredded in his chest, flattened by the weight of everything he was carrying with him. Yet, despite it all, he knew he wouldn’t get a good sleep that night. He never slept well without Molly in his arms.

Michael stared out the windshield as the familiar sights of Lockhart started to surround the truck.

The only words spoken between himself and Molly that day were thank yous. She thanked him for the coffee he had gotten her, and he thanked her when she held out her hand for the keys. Again, they hadn’t traded off driving, the six hours of driving passing as tension-filled and quiet as the day before. A little voice inside of him begged Michael to say something, anything, to salvage not only the trip, but their relationship as well. The voice grew louder and louder, nearly screaming in his ears as Molly pulled to a stop in front of her house and shut off the truck.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, turning partially towards him but not meeting his eyes. “I’ll, uh…see you tomorrow, I guess.”

She frowned as she stepped out of the truck and grabbed her suitcase, leaving the driver’s side door open for Michael. He would have to drive the truck back to his dad’s house for Mark and swap it for his own beat-up Nissan, but he felt himself stuck in the passenger’s seat. If he allowed himself to get into the driver’s seat and leave, he knew it would be over. And it couldn’t be over. Not yet.

Molly flinched as she heard the truck’s creaky door shut with a slam, tears pooling in her eyes. Things had been so wonderful, so perfectly imperfect with Michael. They got each other on a level that Molly had never experienced before. When he looked at her, it was like being stripped bare for the whole world to see, and she had never felt safer. She didn’t want to lose that, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn around and stop him from driving away. Not when there was still so much hurt and anger boiling inside her veins.  

Unable to bring herself to watch him drive away, Molly kept her head bowed towards the handle to her front door, fumbling with her keys as her hand shook from the sheer pressure of holding back the tears that threatened to burst forth.

With a small sob, her trembling hand finally slid the key into place and with a click, the door swung open. Steeling herself, Molly hauled her suitcase inside and allowed the first few tears to slip through the cracks in the safety of her own home.

As she turned to close the door, a booted foot stuck in the door jam, startling her. Through the veil of her tears, she saw Michael’s face, tears pooling in his sweet brown eyes, his hand gently holding the door open.

“W-we…” his voice cracked as he sniffed, rubbing at his eyes. “We have to talk about this. I…I can’t just let this go.”

Molly sniffled as more tears fell, her heart aching twofold now that she could see the pain written so clearly across his face. “Y-yeah…okay.”

She opened the door wider and allowed him to slip in before she closed it and locked it, not sure if she was trying to make herself feel safer or if she was trying to keep him there with her, where he belonged.

-----

Michael didn’t necessarily like how far away Molly was sitting from him on the couch, but he respected it. The ghost of her tears were still swimming before him, and he hated that he was the source of her pain.

“D-do you want anything to drink?” she asked him quietly, breaking the silence that had stretched between them for what felt like hours.

He shook his head quickly. “I’m okay,” he replied in a croaky whisper. “I mean, I’m really not okay. But I don’t need a drink.”

She nodded quietly. “Me too.”

With those two simple words, and a deep, heavy sigh, she tucked her feet up underneath her and rested her head on her knees.

Michael sighed in response. “I hate this,” he admitted quietly. “I hate how far away you’re sitting. I hate that I haven’t spoken to you in almost two days. Two days, Molly. It’s the longest I’ve gone without speaking to you since we met. I hate that you’re making yourself smaller because of me, and I know that that’s mostly because of him but it’s also because I broke your trust. And I really hate how you’re literally right next to me, and I miss you. I miss you, Molly. I miss my best friend and my girlfriend. But the thing I hate most of all is how badly I screwed this up.” He sighed heavily and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head bow over. “I wish I had told you everything.”

“Why didn’t you?” she whispered.

He shrugged, “I honestly don’t know. And I know that sounds like a cop out answer, but it’s the truth. I meant to tell you. I wanted to tell you. But then you told me about your grandfather and all I wanted to do was comfort you. Then came the worst social worker in the world, and I didn’t want to…I don’t know, detract from your pain I guess? And I’m not making excuses or blaming you. This could never and will never be your fault, Molly. But that’s how my brain rationalized it.” He held his hands open in front of him desperately.

“You know that’s not fair to me, right? I’ve worked really hard to be open and honest with you, even when I was terrified that it would drive you away. But I told you the truth. I’ve always told you the truth.”

“I know,” Michael whispered tearfully. “Maybe I didn’t tell you because the death of my relationship with Jaime is so closely tied to the death of my Mom? Maybe it’s because it’s hard to admit that I was really close to spending my life with her? I uprooted my entire life and potentially damaged my career because she wanted Adams to be better for her daughter, but she refused to even consider moving here to let me take care of my sick mother, even temporarily. Maybe I didn’t want you to think that I’m a failure? Maybe I didn’t want to weigh you down with my baggage? Molly, I honestly have no idea why I didn’t tell you. I wish I did. If I knew, I would tell you right now, I swear.”

Molly nodded her head shakily. “I-I know. It still hurts though. That you didn’t trust me.”

“No, no, baby, please don’t think that.” Michael reached out and hesitantly took her hand between his, cradling it while he marveled at the difference in size and texture in comparison to his own. “I trust you more than anyone, including my brothers and sisters.”

“You say that, but this doesn’t exactly prove it,” she mumbled. “You didn’t even tell me about your mom until Gabriella brought it up on Thanksgiving. Do you know how much that hurts?”

“I didn’t tell you because of how much it hurts! Every time I think about that time in my life – Jaime, Malia, my mom – it hurts so bad that I can barely breathe!” he cried. “I didn’t want that pain, that darkness, to affect the best thing in my life. I wanted – no, needed – a fresh start. I needed clean, fresh air to fill my lungs with, but I didn’t know where to find it, and then Renata introduced me to you, and I swear to God, Molly, I tried so hard to just be your friend. You’re so sweet and kind and caring and funny and passionate, and so, so beautiful. You made it easier to breathe. Just being around you helped me come to terms with all if it in a way that made so much sense, five years later. And I meant to tell you all of it, but I just…couldn’t.”

Michael took a deep breath, playing with her fingers, still caged between his. “Then…you found out about my mom. And it didn’t hurt as much as I anticipated. It felt so freeing to share that with you, to be able to talk about her with someone outside of my family, someone who got it, someone who…someone who loved me. So, I started trying to build up the nerve to tell you about Jaime and Malia, but then you told me about him and I lost my nerve. I don’t know why, and I’m definitely not trying to pin this on you. Maybe I didn’t want to upset you, maybe I didn’t want to mar a good thing with a bad memory, maybe—”

“Maybe you’re still not completely over her?” Molly added in a soft, sad voice.

“Oh god, baby, no…” Michael pressed her hand to his lips. “I lost feelings for Jaime a long time ago.”

“But you were going to marry her.”

“I…I was going to ask. I was toying with the notion of asking her. I don’t know. We’d been going out for so long, and we’d fought the school board, I thought we were invincible. But in hindsight, those events covered up a lot of red flags. I asked her about marriage, and she was very noncommittal about it. I asked her about potentially adopting Malia, and she said no. That’s her right as her mother, but she kept introducing me as Malia’s former teacher, and that rubbed me the wrong way. She also didn’t want more kids, which I did. Again, her right, but I really wanted to be a dad and she would barely let me be a stepdad. But I thought I loved her enough to look past all those things. But moving here to take care of my mom, even temporarily…she wouldn’t even consider it. And that was the end. And seeing her again the other day only confirmed it. I haven’t loved Jaime in a very long time. I am so in love with you, Molly, that I can barely stand it. And knowing that I’ve hurt you…I don’t think I can ever forgive myself. But that won’t stop me from begging for your forgiveness because you are the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Molly sniffled. “I wish you had told me all this earlier. I wish you hadn’t kept it from me.”

“I know. I know, I know, I know…” he whispered, gripping her hand tightly in his dual grip and pressing the skin of her hand to his lips.

Molly took that moment to look at him. To really look at him.

And frankly, he looked terrible. As terrible as she felt, which was saying a lot. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all in at least two days and, come to think of it, Molly wasn’t sure he had. He had been out getting coffee when she woke up on their departure day from Pittsburgh, and he had already been dressed and showered in Shreveport.

“Michael, when was the last time you slept?” she asked gently.

“Before the hockey game,” he whimpered, pressing her hand to his forehead. “I can’t sleep without you anymore. At least, not when we’re fighting. I hate fighting with you, and I know it’s my own fault, which made the sleep situation even worse. I kept thinking back to every opportunity I had to tell you and regret not being honest with you. If I could go back and kick my own ass, I would. I swear. Molly, I…I’m so sorry that my actions hurt you. I’m sorry that I made a deliberate choice that has you rethinking us. I am so sorry that I hurt you. I’m supposed to be the person you can trust…and I broke that trust. I am so sorry that I hurt you, baby. So, so sorry.”

“I…I can’t say that it’s okay. Part of me wants to, but I can’t.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Michael interjected quickly. “I wouldn’t ever expect you to just rug sweep this. I know I hurt you too much for that.”

“But I…I do forgive you. It’s going to take me a while to forget and look at you the same way…” Molly watched as Michael visibly wilted in front of her. “I’m sorry, Michael. I just need time, okay? Time to heal from this. Time to see you as the man I know you are.” The downcast look in his eyes made it hard for her to get the words out. “I’m just asking for a…a pause. Nothing permanent. Because as much as it hurts, I do love you.” She smiled softly as he perked up. “It hurts because I love you and because I know you never meant to hurt me.”

“Never,” he whispered. “I would rather walk on shattered glass than hurt you, Molly.”

“I know,” she squeezed his hand with a whisper. “I just need some time and space, okay?”

He nodded slowly and stood, their joined hands stuck like glue as the space between them grew until, finally, her hand fell back into her lap with a dull thud.

“I’ll give you as much time as you need,” he whispered in a choked voice that sent a pang to Molly’s chest. “But I’m not going to stop proving to you how much I love you, okay? Can you give me that, please? I’ll give you as much time as you need of us just being friends, but I can’t go back to being strangers. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Molly nodded tearfully, the thought of not having him in her life at all making it difficult to breathe. “Okay. But…only at school, okay? We’re friends at school, and then we get space apart at the end of the day and on the weekends.”

Michael nodded eagerly, willing to accept any deal she was willing to make with him. “Okay. Yeah, that’s good.” He stepped closer and ducked his head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as he breathed her in, his eyes squeezed shut. “I’m so sorry. I love you, Molly.”

His strong, steady footsteps belied the quivering feeling he had inside of him as he stepped away and left her house. He knew it wasn’t the end. She had only asked for space and time. After what he had put her through, she deserved that much. And so much more. So he would give it to her. Everything she needed in a friend. He’d go back to being the strong, steady companion she had met back in August. The difference was, back then he had worked hard to only be her friend. Now, all pretenses were off. He knew he loved her and that she loved him. So, now, he would prove to her just how worthy he was of her affections.

Tags list: @budcooper, @aellynera, @mattmurdocksscars​, @beenthroughalot, @itspdameronthings

[allthewayonmars]

blood roses (one)

“Blood roses are not deadly but, they can make you slightly feverish and numb if you get pricked by them.”

Loving you was a mistake, a terrible mistake that one should not make if one values one's sanity. I fell hard for you and now I have to pay the price of that. “They can make you slightly feverish and numb if you get pricked by them.”I got too close and you pricked me. You fooled me into thinking that what we had was mutual and here I am, stuck. 

It was never always like this, you used to be kind and attentive but you changed. I can’t tell when it happened, its all a blur-

I was always anxious growing up, to the point of me having to be excused from my classes on the weekly basis. My parents were sweet enough to have removed me from the entire public school system and I was stuck in as a homeschooler. I craved to be around people if I’m being honest. I would constantly beg to be put back on the daily basis but, it was better for me to be away from other at that stage. 

One day I made up my mind that I would be attending a public university, all I had to do was to convince the parents, should be easy right? Wrong. It turned into an argument every time and, every point I would bring up but be shot down with a perfectly concocted counter-argument. But I got them to stumble and somehow it was early August and I was packing to move away to my new dorm, my new life. 

The “getting used to things” stage was easy, I found it simple to assimilate. Walking around campus was the one difficult place. The anxiety would never let my head rest for a moment, it felt like buzzing more than words and I felt eyes all over me constantly. There was one day that was particularly harder for me than the rest, the stress of not receiving the desired grade that I believed I deserved paired with the eyes and the buzzing additionally paired with the twenty-five-minute walk to my room did not make things better. As I attempted to speed-walk my way through campus I bumped into someone on accident. With my luck, I tripped and fell and my face almost made contact with the ground but, the mystery person grabbed my arm, saving me from complete embarrassment. Pulling myself away from the person, I finally glance towards the person, and there lay the most beautiful auburn-colored eyes paired with honey-browned hair on top of his head. I mumbled out a pathetic “sorry” as I sped past him. 

I wish I could say that would be the last time that I saw him. The second time I was sitting at a coffee shop struggling with a paper that was due later that day. I never drink coffee but the scent of ground coffee beans consumes me, so I end up finding myself drawn to coffee shops. The shop was not busy but it wasn’t empty either and you could tell that the employees were glad to have this downtime. I heard the little jingle that the door makes when someone enters and I just so happened to be in that direction. I notice a person in a “not too dark” but “not too light” blue hoodie and sweatpants walk toward the counter to place an order and I could hear him speak clearly over the light jazz music that was playing in the background. 

“A two-shot expresso with light almond milk and a teaspoon of sugar.” 

His voice sounded smooth and he spoke like a politician. His words could cast spells in the way he spoke. I look back to my screen but I couldn’t help but return to him, I was enthralled. He paid with cash, specifically a twenty-bill, and place the change in the front pocket of the hoodie. He turned to walk to the nearest table and sat as he pulled out his phone and that was where I could see him clearly, the same auburn-colored eyes and his hair. There were distinct curls in it and his hair was to the length that you could tuck it behind your ear. Looking down I could distinguish what looked like to be videos as he swiped through them. 

An employee entered from the back with a drink in hand, reading the label on the cup she said in a raised volume-

“Caleb”

Caleb stood from his chair and placed the phone in his pocket as he walked toward the employee. He shot them a quick smile thanking them before taking the cup away from them. As he walked to the exit I see him look back at me and smirk before pushing the door open. I was in shock, did he know that was watching him the entire time? If he knew why did he say something? Flooded with questions I look back down at my screen and see the time and frantically return to writing my paper. 

#writers #writing #romance #young adult #short story #college au

[animatedtext]

#gif #animatedtext #wordart #transparent #Life is just sped up smooth jazz

[tragicallywicked]

THE FIRST RAIN

[ CHAPTER EIGHT ]

Words: 29,726 Genre: Romance/Drama Rated: Mature Pairing: Alice + Jasper Summary: What happened to Alice and Jasper when their paths first crossed in that stormy night in Philadelphia? What were the trails they rode in two years before joining the Cullen clan? It all began on that first rainy day, she had been waiting for him long enough, and he was finding what he had been blindly searching for.

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The scent of moist grass bore the entire forest when the tempest inched down in the area their cabin was located; humming of birds an overpowering sound over the thin drops still falling from the trees. All was peaceful, so still and quiet after a storm. It was likewise the most vulnerable of times, for it was when predators struck.

Alice and Jasper, the deadliest two in those woods, sped through the trees side by side, tracking their prey. She located hers first, taking a turn Jasper wasn't anticipating. He understood she had to do her thing to quell the hunger hounding her ever since their conversation about the slip.

Jasper wasn't exactly hungry, but he followed Alice's advice and feeding anyway. Because he felt satiated—and on some level even stuffed with blood—he wasn't quartering all that effort. Jasper did snatch a bear that had been at clear range and fed from it until he couldn't anymore. Alice was a few meters from him, and he observed when she raced to another quarry, jumping a second creature.

He felt overwhelmed from the bear and sat to wait for his mate to finish up. While there, Jasper examined Alice in her element, ambushing the animal and snapping its head before she could feed from it. He considered how humane it was that she was killing it before feeding, so it wouldn't suffer. It made Jasper wonder if she had the same means when feeding from humans.

Alice would make an extraordinary hunter, in his opinion. For a vampire who had a forthcoming all on her own, misplaced in eternity, she grasped a lot. Had she been tutored, Alice would have made an impressive soldier as well—not that it was a fate Jasper coveted for her. Jasper desired to keep her away from any kind of confrontation.

Patrolling her so closely, that sweet angel she was, Jasper could understand all the appeal of spending immortality with that woman. Admittedly, he didn't quite see himself walking away from her—even in the brief time they had been together. But if there was something Jasper knew was that circumstances, and people, could change—particularly when one had eternity. He knew the emotions they shared were noble, serious, and real. Jasper had spent too long of a time in an uproar; he couldn't be positive of  what  that sublime sensation was. He'd been accustomed to different types of love; if this was it, there was still a lot to be determined about it. But then again, they had time—something humans lacked. 

When Alice joined him, Jasper beamed, extending a hand for her to follow him at the top of the rock, overseeing the forest. She rested beside him silently.

 "Only one bear?" Alice commented after a moment, noticing the animal not too far from them.

 "I'm still feeling quite full," he explained with a faint smile.

 "It's natural. When you begin feeling hungry again, we should positively hunt right away," Alice encouraged. The twist on Jasper's expression made her glare in more seriousness. "What is it?"

 He shook his head, deciding to trail it off, but her eyes were resolute. "I'm still adjusting to the  tang . It's nothing, honestly."

 "It's different, I know." Alice pulled her legs up toward her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she contemplated the sky.

 "Can I admit something?"

 She deduced his eyes had been on her as she signed after shifting to find his gaze. Although Jasper assumed she knew, it came as a shock to Alice when he spoke. "I don't particularly enjoy the diet."

 "Oh."

 "I thought you would know." Jasper abruptly stared, baffled.

 "Well, it's not so much of a decision but rather an inclination. I probably had no time to see if you only just decided to tell me," Alice explained, and he nodded, confirming her suspicion. "Why don't you like it?"

 Jasper immediately sensed the sign of disappointment that Alice was striving to conceal from him. As they spent time together, she had been reading more and more into his gifts. Being an empath, Jasper had learned feelings weren't set in stone—like Alice's visions, they could change and be changed. The culmination between him and Maria had explicitly been how great she became on manipulating him. The contrast was his previous partner never sought to hide things to  spare  him, which he could tell was what Alice was doing now.

 The idea of disappointing her troubled Jasper; he hesitated thinking about his response to that puzzle. "You have to admit it's distasteful, especially compared with what I've been used to."

 Alice nods, to that much she could recognize. It wasn't as lascivious as drinking from humans, but she preferred it over the baggage that came with slaughter.

 "And I did just feed from one or two," Jasper reminded.

 "I guess you're not wrong."

 "Yet, you're disappointed." Usually, he'd divert from the topic, but Jasper carried on. He cared about Alice; he desired things to strive between them. He had seen with eternity that it took effort for relationships to endure, not just physical attraction—to which they had in abundance.

 "I'm not."

 "Alice." He peered at her, brow raised and a delightful grin.

 "I know, I know. You feel  everything ." Her annoyed huffing told Jasper maybe Alice did want to escape the conversation, but he didn't cave. "I hoped this was more natural to you as it was for me. I'm not blaming you," she was quick to clarify, glancing up at him. "I don't relish on your suffering."

 "I'm not."

 Alice had difficulty hiding her shock.

 "It does pain me when it's occurring, afterward not so much. It's our primary drive we're fighting against here, after all," he reminded her. Alice felt genuinely bothered this time, he missed the moment it had flipped, but he sure caught the emotion later.

 Alice had to remind herself she was sentencing Jasper for a  future him  that she had seen, one that would not come to be if Alice kept ramming his boundaries. She knew the consequence of that; it wasn't a pleasant one. Her aid would be crucial to him and to them.

 With that in mind and the wave of reassurance charging toward her, Alice gave Jasper a brief nod.

 "I guess I pushed you too hard, too fast, I'm sorry," Alice said. He wasn't expecting an apology, so Jasper just signed. "Maybe we can come up with a different plan. If you still crave to feed from humans every other time, we could make the shift smoother."

 "Looking the other way would upset you." Jasper didn't question; he somehow knew that to be inevitable. "That is the last thing I want to do."

 "It wouldn't—Well, all right, maybe a little. But it would also help you, I can  see  it. And in the long run, that will be important," Alice explained as she sat up straight, hand stretching to hold his. "And that is  all  that I want, Jazz."

 She had seen him through so much twinge, an avalanche of torturous agony, now Alice wished that he could have a more peaceful existence. Preferably by her side.

 Back in the cabin, Alice busied with arranging the bedroom. She had seen the deliveries arrive in a few minutes, and having the area unblocked would have them out flying. It wasn't so much worry for Jasper being around them—as she planned to send him off when they arrived—Alice wanted to get this finished and fixed; their life ordered and following on track.

 Jasper sat nearby, reading a book about the first war, when her eyes shot up and halted. He faded off her sight, and all too fast, Alice saw big and bloody eyes. She wasn't positive who they belonged to, but they were liquid fresh, glistering with death. It uttered her panic immediately, agonized over what Jasper was bound to do.  Was she judging him, though?  Alive thought to herself, h ow  could she know it was him if all she'd seen were eyes, vivid and sharp red.

 Squinting back to her senses, she focused on Jasper, now standing in front of her. A guarding arm around her and the other squeezing her hand. She vaguely caught his voice in the background, as if it calling her from a distance and not right next to her ear.

 "What did you see?" he insisted. "Alice. What did you see?"

 Alice understood his distress was over her alarm when he sent a surge of serenity toward her.

 "It's nothing." Alice shook her head softly and fixed a smile over at Jasper, who frowned, unconvinced. "I'm not sure yet. It was a swift flash." That much was true. Alice had no notion what it implied or why it had shown up to her, but it did, and the concern was indisputable.

 "Why did it disturb you so much?"

 She lamented, inclining up to peck his lips. "Sometimes they simply do, don't agonize about it too much," Alice promises, and Jasper nods.

 Resuming her clean up, Alice ventured to occupy Jasper's attention with small chatting. She had great ideas for their bedroom. The larger frame arriving would eat up some of the space, but Alice still wished to make it homey.

 Jasper had joined in assisting her and proposed that they get rid of the nightstands—there wasn't really a point when they didn't truly sleep. He'd argued they could store the items there in the office next door, since he didn't actually have that many things to keep.

 "We'll get you books and memorabilia and trinkets," Alice said sweetly, skipping to meet him on the other side of the room; her arms enveloped around his neck; nose nuzzling his cheek when he hoisted her off the floor.

 "I don't need any of those." His tone was soft, planting a peck on her lips when he turned his face to her, praising the delicacy in her beauty. All he needed was there, his whole world.

 "Well, there must be  something  we can get you, Major Whitlock." She grinned, smoothing her lips to his again.

 "I did enjoy that game we played the other day."

 "Chess?" Alice raised a brow, but she wasn't really surprised. She'd had many visions of Jasper and their future brother Emmett, both men sitting across from each other in a light and open living room, an elaborate game of chess in front of them.

 "It's very strategic. I like the nature of it," Jasper explained and Alice nodded rapidly.

 "We could get a nice set, something that—" Alice couldn't finish her words as another strong vision clouded her senses.

  There were two bodies on the floor, looking lifeless, drained of all blood. The soft pink of the cheeks had disappeared to give place to a mauve, almost pale purple on their faces. The two men had their throats completely dilacerated, the only last specks that remained of blood smeared across their necks.

  A sloppy affair, the way their flesh had been pierced. Positively done by  someone  with greed and lack of control—almost as a feral newborn damage in their naive frenzy. It was gruesome; the desperation petrified in their eyes said too much of the pain they had endured.

  Alice felt hunger in her vision, of whoever had done it. The intensity of the emotion so palpable felt almost as if it was her own.

  Her eyes shifted from the bodies to the shadow standing out the light, but before she could discern the face of the predator, she was back to her senses.

 "Alice." Jasper was shaking her now—because he didn't think she could get more startled and pale, but it seemed the  nightmare  drained the rest of life off her. When he was so worried, it was arduous to stay focused and not wave all his concern, and she slumped in the feeling of his fear for a second, for she too was in thorough desperation.

 "What's happening, Alice?" He yanked back the worry to expand tranquillity, and Alice was finally able to breathe, staring at him with a frown.

 "I saw two men… Dead… Here." She was working to make up what had happened and  how  it occurred.

 Jasper was about to protest and hold her back in the present, but her eyes drifted off again in search of answers.

 "Tell me, what do you see?" He directed this time, an arm still clutching her steady, and his emotions still flooding sheer peace.

 Alice focused.

  The men were nothing but a pile of flesh now, on top of each other, tossed there already dead. A figure crawled in the corner, but it was too dark; she couldn't see their face. Instead, she searched the men, inspected their faces.

 "They're older…" She whispered quietly, eyes still on the sight.

 "Very well. Do we know them?"

 "I can't tell—"

  She couldn't see them too well, their frightened petrification and mutilation of the throats making them look disfigured, nearly unrecognizable. Alice inspected the wounds closely. They seemed different, like they had been done by various vampires—or at separate times.

 "The bites are different. One is bigger, sloppier," she told him.

 "What else is there?" Jasper continued to guide her through, his fingers smoothing down her spine as other relaxing strings caught her perfectly.

  Alice could sense the headache building, having to seek for the minor details in a vision that felt so terrifying. She stared closer at the bodies, trying to get any evidence of who they could be. Then a voice, in the vision, hindered her investigation.

  "We have to go, we must leave," a female voice called out.

  "We'll deal with this," the male voice sounded firm. When Alice peered around for the source, she saw it coming from outside. Like a voyer of the conversation, Alice approached the front door with care—as if the people in the vision could see her.

  There was a vase, one of her favorite, shattered near the door, and a pool of blood. She assumed the source of it all, working to resolve the puzzle.

  "Last time, nothing happened," the man said.

  "Not this time."

  "What have you seen, Alice?"

  She saw herself and Jasper outside, both with their backs to the door, where she watched the vision roll out.

  "Please trust me, we can't stay, Jazz. At least not for long."

  "We'll fix this. I'm sorry—"

  "Don't. It's all right."

 Alice allowed out a breath, looking at Jasper when the vision vanished, and she faded back.

 "I think you killed them," she said with a lump on her throat.

 Jasper drew back almost instantly, and she felt the pain dripping from him. Desperate to comfort him, Alice reached out for his hand, not allowing Jasper to get distant now. It hadn't happened, and she always believed things could be prevented—even when the vision looked so solid.

 "Jazz."

 "Perhaps I should go."

 "No!" Alice pleaded, tugging him toward her. He reacted to her need for his presence, steadily sinking into her pull with a nod. He wouldn't go; he wanted to stay  and not kill . "Maybe we can still change it."

 Jasper agreed, waiting for her frown to relax. Alice searched the visions again, looking back into the images that had shown up, for details she could have missed; his hands were on her again, soothing and protecting.

 "Tell me what you find," Jasper encouraged quietly into her ear.

  Jasper pulled back from her and nodded, briefly leaning in to peck her forehead.

  "I'll be out back," he proposed encouragingly. He would be far, but just enough so that he could calm her down still. Jasper was gone in seconds. Alice strolled to the door, opening to greet the two men with the brightest smile, feeling the waves Jasper was still conveying her way.

  "Good afternoon, Miss," one of the men, the one that had aided her at the store, greeted. He bowed softly, still clearly mesmerized by her appearances, like all people were. The other one, a taller guy with not much of a patience, smiled briefly but also did give Alice a second look.

  "Afternoon," Alice inclined her head briefly and made space for the frame.

  "Where should we put it?"

  The men eyed the narrow steps with painful gazes and Alice swung her head instantly. She wanted them out of there as fast as possible anyhow.

  "You may leave it here. My husband can get it upstairs later. We're still fixing some things there," Alice explained casually.

  They were quick to nod, and the taller one handed Alice a paper to sign. She scribbled far too quickly, not minding it too much. Alice turned around on her ankles after she was given a copy and the movement accidentally knocked down a vase. Typically she would have sped to save it, but in the humans' presence, she let the object drop to the floor and shred to pieces.

 She came back too quickly with a gasp and looked up at Jasper.

 "It's the delivery!"

 On queue, the doorbell rang on their house, and Alice watched, helplessly, the entire vision unfold in her mind just a millisecond before it all occurred.

  Everything happened extremely fast. The smaller guy reached for the vase pieces and so did Alice.

  "Oh please, don't worry about that." Alice dismissed, attempting to collect the remains on her own, but the man was persistent.

  "It's all right, Miss!"

  In a very brief second, he captured a crack with too much enthusiasm, unbeknownst to him that his excitement to help would be his downfall. The cut was deep enough to quickly pool blood on his hand; for Alice's eyes to grow black just as fast. The animal in her awoke and all the delicacy and the self-restraint in her wouldn't be enough to hold it back—like that time she had murdered her work friend or the time before where a late night walker didn't stand a chance.

  She wasn't Alice anymore. She was nothing but a vampire—eager for human blood—when she snapped the short man's neck, and her teeth carved his jugular. The warmth of the blood undertook her entire body, satisfying a thirst of  far too long . When her eyes opened up again, they darted up to the taller man, abruptly terrified by the turn of events. He would scream, but Jasper emerged in front of him before Alice could reach her next pray.

  The feral beast hissed at her mate.

  "I'll take him, the other is still alive and he'll turn if you don't finish him," Jasper said coldly, strategic. Only then Alice grew aware of the grunts of agony.

  She briefly saw Jasper snap the other man out before she returned to her victim.

  When there was no more life to down, Alice stood up, mouth dripping with blood and her eyes two piercing rubies.

#jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #the twilight renaissance #mary alice brandon #jasper whitlock #mine #the first rain #fanfic

[thistangledbrain]

Deliberately lumping 17 & 18 together this time, because 17 isn’t that big of an entry.

Day 17 - “Accommodations”

So from a *personal* standpoint, I need few or no accommodations, as I’ve learned to make my own & have my own coping skills - when you spend most of your life not even knowing you’re autistic, you’re less likely to ask for something to help you with “your weird hangups”.

But younger auties often DO need accommodations- like being allowed to wear headphones/muffs in school, having a quieter testing environment, smaller classes, and so on. And obviously, the more you struggle with certain aspects (like loud noises or crowds), the more accommodations you’ll need.

I admit I don’t have much experience with the kids who truly need the total SPED environments. *Most* (definitely not all) kids I’ve known have all been capable to a degree of adapting to a NT environment. It’s *exhausting*, but possible *most of the time*. So since I’m a child of “suck it UP!”, I’m unfamiliar with this outside of simple accommodations I asked for, for my youngest, when he was in his earlier HS years - like headphones being allowed, and letting him keep his cell phone on him so he could quietly text with me if he was having a rough day & we could walk through it together. As he’s progressed through high school, he’s needed these accommodations less and less. I’ve noticed as my boys have edged through puberty, they leave more and more of their younger struggles behind them.

Your results may vary, of course.

———————————————

Day 18 - “Someday”

Hm. Boy, that’s ambiguous. Maybe I’ll take this one on from a couple different angles.

Someday I hope NTs understand autism better. Someday I hope each autistic person can be judged on their OWN PERSONAL strengths and weaknesses, like NTs are, instead of lumping us all together and deciding we can or can’t do something, based on the fact we’re autistic. For example, I know *plenty* of autistic musicians who play in bands ranging from death metal & punk rock, to smooth jazz. “But I thought autistic people couldn’t handle loud sounds!!”, you exclaim. Yeah, and some of us can. Also, not all loud sounds are created equal. Or sounds in general. A good example for me is, I occasionally jump and let out a little scream when the toast pops up 🙄, but I don’t flinch at the sound of gunfire - because I love to target shoot (I do not hunt), and it’s something I’m really good at, so I enjoy it thoroughly. (I’m not going to get started on America’s gun violence problem because it enrages me. I can rant about that allllll day & already deleted two paragraphs doing just that. This was just a convenient example.)

I’ve been thinking about this a LOT lately, actually. We have our own hurdles, without NTs adding to them, anyway. But I think about “what if I knew I was autistic, before I joined the Marines? Would I still have been as determined?” YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT...BUT I would have hit a brick wall, because they wouldn’t have let me (if I was honest about it, anyway - I’m telling you right now, if every applicant was 100% honest about their background, almost NO ONE would be accepted). So what happened? Well - I was a damned good Marine, that’s what happened - because I didn’t let *anybody* tell me I couldn’t do something. And as I mentioned before...for certain types of auties, the military is actually a pretty fucking brilliant, comfortable environment that we literally thrive in. Again - we are all different. So this “someday” one is BIG for me. Someday I hope we are judged individually on our merits, someday I hope we are looked at through the lens of what we CAN do, versus what *someone else* thinks we cannot do. I have YET to meet an Autie who doesn’t go “OH YEAH?!” when we’re told we “can’t” do something because of our autism. (We might not always succeed, granted, but we really hate being told we “can’t” do something, based on what YOU think we can and cannot do.)

Someday I hope autism is actually celebrated, instead of thinking it’s some sort of scourge. I hope to see that happen in my lifetime.

Someday I also hope that people (the doctors and psych folks and whatever) realize there’s actually a *considerable* difference between male and female autistics - which is why females are so often diagnosed late in life, because we “don’t fit the profile”. I also hope they realize that some females are more like males, and some males more like females, as far as the expression of our ASD. In other words - back to HOW ABOUT YOU EVALUATE US INDIVIDUALLY, FFS. I hear all this shit about how “autism is a spectrum”, and it just seems like lip service - if you KNOW it’s a spectrum, then why are you still trying to pigeonhole us into the DSM-5 definition or whatever, and operating inside generic parameters?? Auties are the most complex human beings you will ever meet in your life - and I stand FIRMLY by that - so your attempts to shoehorn us into your basic understanding of it is frustrating as FUCK. Infuriating, even. No wonder we fight you so bad when you try it. How would YOU like it if we decided that every middle class blonde woman is a “Karen”, and treated you as such? Or if we decided everyone with brown eyes are slow and we should treat all of you brown eyed people the same, like infants? You’d be like, “what the FUCK?” Yeah. It’s a lot like that.

Someday, I hope more therapists understand the autistic brain better, so they can be more helpful. Sometimes the same advice you’d give a NT patient struggling with an issue (let’s say, the death of a loved one or executive function) just won’t ...WORK...for an Autie. As it stands now, most therapists I’ve known go straight to ABA, and that gets frustrating when you just need to let it all out so you can re-center and actually have a discussion. Speaking of ABA, someday I hope teachers and doctors and therapists understand the resentment and feelings of being “wrong” or “bad” that result from ABA. SOME of it is necessary I think, but mostly, all it does is teach repression & lets us know loud and clear that the way we are is “wrong”. I desperately hope ABA is reevaluated - with the input from ACTUAL AUTISTICS. Using ABA for to overcome a problem like, say, potty training or something, is often seriously necessary. But potty training isn’t part of *who we are*, if that makes sense. Most ABA is basically like putting your Autie kid in a dog training bootcamp, with little to no thought about “what makes that kid tick”. It’s all about training you to act in a way that NTs find acceptable (and I have lots and lots of cuss words about that........) I don’t even train DOGS like some schools or therapists train auties. Dogs aren’t beings to dominate, control, and condition to act in ways I find pleasing (but I’m also not a “general trainer”...I’m on the behavior side of things). They’re sentient beings who deserve to have their personalities discovered, their traumas and their hangups, and THEN we work inside THAT dog’s parameters until we’re solid...*then* we start working on pushing them outside of comfort zones and such. AFTER that trust and understanding has been laid down as a solid foundation, for *that specific dog*, regardless of my experience with past dogs (though I do rely heavily on past experiences of course; knowledge of what did and didn’t work with some other dog similar to the one I have now - that sort of thing - but every dog is a whole new being to me...because, well, they actually *are*). Nothing is “cookie cutter”. Every dog is a brand new exploration. I understand that’s putting a lot of pressure on SPED teachers. I understand they’re baffled when I tell them ABA sucks as a because they see “positive results”. Sure - you see positive results in your ability to repress that child. Positive results in the fact that they’ve now learned to hide themselves from you and others. It seems the current ABA methods don’t necessarily teach any sort of useful skills for actually adapting to the flow of the NT world for that kid - just how to repress who they are, so they fit in. In other words - ABA is successful for the NT world - not us. It actually depresses the shit out of me to think about how teachers and counselors view the rocking and flapping kid they’ve now trained to sit quietly in class feels like their work is successful. You didn’t help that kid - you BROKE them, you broke their spirit, you broke who they are. That makes me so angry. Same when these so called “star trainers” can force or intimidate any dog to performative good behavior. Same as the difference between how native Americans train their horses versus how Anglo Saxons or others did/do. In the native culture, we call it “gentling”. In AS culture *it is LITERALLY called “breaking”*. I’m not kidding - look it up.)

As for my personal “someday”....

Someday I’ll write a book about my adventures & struggles in life and what it was like inside my brain through each one. It’s not that I think I’m anything special, but I’ve been asked to do this, and the reasons were pretty logical. And I do love to write, usually. Or maybe it’ll be a book about how my autism is a HUGE advantage in “my line of work” (the dog thing...being sort of more of a dog/human “guidance counselor” than a trainer - since I hear your voice and feelings, and I also hear your dog’s, I’m less of a trainer and more of a bridge between the two. An interpreter, but also almost like a marriage counselor too LOL). I think that’s my biggest “someday” and the only one worth mentioning, because it’s such a huge goal...most of my other personal “someday” stuff, I eventually kinda go “well fucking why not TODAY, bish?!” and I just...DO it.

But generally, someday I hope it’s understood that no two autistic people are alike - but we share enough commonality that it’s possible to understand we’re basically in a different category of people from “normal”. Someday I hope NTs in general drop their stereotypes and get to know us one on one. Someday I hope people realize and understand that even nonverbals are whole ass human beings, with thoughts and dreams and opinions and a whole complex personality that you missed, because you were too busy judging the fact they can’t speak like you do.

Someday I hope you realize we *enhance* the human experience, we don’t detract from it. Someday I hope you realize we are not BROKEN, we are just different. Someday I wish you’ll stop being so smug and stuck up in your “normally functioning brain”, and stop PITYING us. For fucking what??? Experiencing life in a much more complex and deep way?? Bruh. We pity YOU, too. Your world perception often seems dull and wasteful. Limited. OPEN UP - there’s a whole universe out there that you haven’t even explored. So, someday I hope we can enhance each other’s human experience, like my friends and I do. I’d love to see that on a larger scale.

Someday.

#asd #autism #autistic #acceptance #awareness #actuallyautistic

[getitinbusan]

Birthday Surprise (SMUT)

Happy birthday to our Kim Taehyung!

I busted this out in record time so I hope the smut makes up for the lack of editing.

You knocked on the door lightly to get Jimin's attention without waking up the birthday boy. Your stomach was a ball of nerves as you waited for him to let you into the dorm. He smiled sweetly at you through the window as he turned the lock and pushed it open to welcome you.

Laying a quick kiss on your cheek, you blushed as he explained,  "I made sure everyone had plans and they'll be out of the house for at least 4 hours. Taehyung is still sleeping, he's in the last room at the end of the hall."

You inhaled deeply trying to calm yourself, "Thanks for helping Chim, and for not making this awkward…"He laughed, I'm just happy you trusted me with your birthday secret. Now get in there and deflower my best friend."

Embarrassed you could only shake your head, "Yep, not awkward at all." Grabbing his bag he pulled the door closed behind him and turned the lock.

You'd been in the house before while you waited for Taehyung but it was never this quiet. The absence of his brothers made it unbearably still as your loud heartbeat echoed through your chest. Slowly making you way up the hall to the last room you reached out to turn the handle slowly. Laying in his boxers and a t shirt  he was snoring softly while clinging to his pillow. The room was a mess and there were no sheets on the bed, maybe you should have let Jimin tip him off to your plan.  

Undoing your coat and letting it drop to the floor you took a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you looked okay. What would he think? You'd spent a lot of money for the see through black babydoll set you were wearing.

"Tae," you whispered softly, he stirred slightly, "Happy Birthday Taehyung." He rubbed his eyes opening them slowly, "Jagi, what are you doing here? Am I dreaming." You giggled at his cuteness, he sat up, his eyes widened as he moved over the bed to get to you.

"You're not dreaming baby, I wanted to wake you up on your birthday and surprise you with your present."

He wrapped his arms around your waist and looked up at you, "I love you so much y/n" Running your hands through his hair you leaned down to place a kiss on his lips, "I love you too and I want us, right now, to have sex." 

He seemed shocked and a little flustered, "Hang on…" he left in a flurry and returned a few minutes later with a blanket tucked under his arm. He threw all the clothes and plushies off his bed and flung the blanket out to cover the bare mattress. Grabbing his phone he connected it to his speaker and smooth jazz began playing throughout the room.

"Are you done Tae? Because I'm really really ready for this to happen." He nodded yes and then he quickly frowned, "No, one more thing"

Leaning on his dresser impatiently, you couldn't believe he was making you wait. He came back in and moved towards you grinning, "now I'm ready." He leaned in cupping your face and kissed you slowly, you couldn't help but laugh into his mouth, "Tae, did you really just leave me standing here like this to go brush your teeth?"

Continuing to kiss down your neck he nodded, "Do you want the memory of losing your virginity to include morning breath?" He tickled your sides and pulled you down on the bed laying on top of you, "Are you sure you're ready for this? I don't want you doing this just because its my birthday"  Reaching into his boxer shorts you grabbed his length and stroked it gently, "I'm 100% positive if you are." 

His long fingers fumbled to undo the tie on the front of your lingerie, saving him, you pulled it and the lace opened sliding over your breasts. He paused to stare, taking in your body hungrily.

You'd been together for 6 months and while you'd made out you'd never seen each other naked. "You're so beautiful Jagi," he breathed out while laying soft kisses over your chest. Never having felt anything like this in your life you could only lay back and moan in pleasure as his lips suckled your nipples. His hand moved down your body and his fingers found their way between you legs, a little shock wave ran through you when the palm of his hand rubbed over your sensitive clit.

"Put them inside me, please," he complied, walking his fingers down further until your wet opening  was right beneath it. Slowly he pushed it into your soft pink hole deeper and deeper until he couldn't go further, stopping to watch your face he thought he could cum right there.

"You're okay?" He asked, "Do you want more?" He pulled it out painstakingly slow teasing you.

"Yes, please... Tae, I've masturbated before I'm not going to split in two, you can be a little less gentle"

Taken back by your words he pushed two fingers in abruptly and rocked his palm against your clit. "Like that is that better? I didn't know you were such a dirty girl." Becoming an instant mess under him he didn't let up, his fingers definitely felt better than your own, "I'm going to make you cum before I even get inside you, do you want that? Do you want to see if my tongue feels good too?"

You'd never heard him talk like this, his words were making you clench around his fingers and the lewd noises from your wetness had you right on the edge. "Lick me Tae, fuck I want your mouth on me so badly," giving your nipple one more harsh suck he moved down your body.  Leaving sloppy kisses on the insides of your thighs he wasted no time attaching his lips to your swollen clit.

"Oh my God! Fuck," you shouted in ecstasy, "Shhh, baby, everyone's going to know what we're doing in here." He licked slowly over your cunt.

"Nobodies here Tae I made them all leave, so we can fuck as loud as we want." Feeling less self conscious, he took it as a new challenge to make you cum not only hard but loud as well.

"This is the best birthday ever," he growled at your cunt before slamming his fingers back inside. His words got you worked up, never thinking he'd be one for dirty talk just seeing you writhing when he spoke made the expletives drip off his tongue like your juices all over his face.

"So close Tae, don't stop… fuck don't stop," you were grinding yourself onto his face and his fingers were merciless inside you as you came all over him. "Shit Jagi, that was amazing. You're so sexy, I think I just want to make you cum like that all the time" 

Pushing him off of you onto his back you pulled his shirt over his head, "I'm not going to stop you, but today is supposed to be about you. Tugging down his boxers his dick laid hard as a rock on his stomach. "Jesus Tae,  your cock is fucking huge," he laughed out loud "is it going to split you in two?"

He was flattered, you were scared. You'd felt him pressed against you leg when you'd made out and dry humped but you were not prepared for this giant girthy dick that lay before you. Starting with small kitten licks to his tip he twitched under you. Making the strokes bigger you moved from his head to his base to his balls as he leaked little beads of pre cum out of his eager tip.

"Ummm, you taste so sweet" sucking up the drops and licking your lips you let your cunt slide over his leg as you moved back down to fully wrap your lips around him.  He threw his head back, the noises leaving his body had you so turned on you wanted nothing more than to see him cum all over himself. Your jaw ached, he was so smooth and delicious you didn't want to stop. His hands moved to the back of your head and he grabbed your hair, "stop… I'm going to cum," you kept going against his force, "just a bit more… please Tae, I love how you feel in my mouth." 

He grabbed you and flipped you onto your back, "I want you too badly to blow it on a blow job," reaching over to his side drawer he grabbed a box of condoms, "I bought these two weeks after I met you and I'm so glad we're finally getting to use them." Pulling out a foil pack you grabbed it out of his hand, "The day after I met you I started taking the pill."  Before your eyes, his lust starved look turned into pure adoration, "I am so in love with you, you can't possibly even know" he rested his forehead against yours and kissed you, his lips never broke contact as he pushed himself inside you. When he was fully inserted he stopped, his hands caressed your face and ran through your hair as he looked into your eyes, "are you okay?" you nodded.

His hips moved slowly and deliberately, afraid to move too fast and wreck the moment by hurting you.  As you became more comfortable you sped up your movements to meet his thrusts in wet slaps of bare skin. Sweaty and blissed out you wanted to take over, to let him lay back and enjoy himself. "Tae, can I ride you baby?" he wrapped his arms around you tightly and rolled over carefully to keep himself inside you.

Taking control you plunged yourself down onto him, his cries of pleasure spilled out of his mouth faster as you began clenching around him. Grabbing your ass he helped drag you over his cock as your fatigue set in, this was it. 

"Shit, Fuck, Oh My God," not sure who's words were who's the air was filled with satisfaction as you both came at the same time. Collapsing on top of him, you both lay wrapped in each other catching your breath until you couldn't take the stickiness anymore, "I guess we should get cleaned up before everyone gets home."

Throwing on his t shirt, you walked down the hall towards the kitchen to grab some water. You were met in the living room with six synchronized voices, "SURPRISE!" Tae pulled you behind him, "Y/N was just here to give me my birthday present," you'd never seen anyone blush that hard before. "Yeah we heard," Yoongi winked. 

#taehyung smut #bts taehyung #happy birthday taehyung #Bts smut #Tae #tae x reader #Vante #Kim Taehyung #Tae smut #Tae x you #bangtan smut #bangtan scenarios #bangtan sonyeondan

[widowsofchaos]

Old Man Rogers

Steve Rogers dating a black punk rocker [HEADCANON]

(This is for my punk rock sisters, rock on my beautiful babes! And I hope you enjoy this semi-lengthy headcanon, okay I may have added more than I intended. This is my first headcanon, so bare with me! xoxo)

Steve is from the last century, a 40s boy, all he knew was jazz and blues from old New York.

So when he came freshly out of the ice, he had A LOT to learn about the evolved music scenes in the melting pot that is New York, from the old one he formerly knew.

Especially when he walks down the street in his disguise consisting of low hat and jacket, blending in the crowd. He would see various walks of life, one style that really stood out to him is punk rockers.

Steve would’ve never thought of this type of style existing back in his time. It’s outlandish, loud, it’s unruly.

IT’S VUGLAR.

LANGUAGE. LANGUAGE. LANGUAGE.

Lemme tell you ol’ boy, Steve be cringing at the profanity being caressly thrown around especially by teenagers.

He didn’t warm up to the outfits. Unkempt colorful hair, dirty denim, pants covered in patches, chains attached to jackets and jeans. It was definitely not his style.

He may be in the 21st century, but he was still a classic 40s boy at heart. He preferred simplicity.

Steve would see young girls have their faces littered with piercings, he would think to himself, ‘why would they ruin their pretty faces? Women back in my day didn’t need to sabotage their beauty.’

Don’t even get him started on the music, it’s too loud, too fast, and brash. To be honest, it gave him a headache at times.

His dislike stemmed from his refusal to accept the world he now lived in. It was just too much, he felt rushed into it.

Steve truly started feeling his age, he felt like a crabby old man, that didn’t fit in the new world. He would start lamenting about his old days.

Don’t get him started on moshing.

He just doesn’t get it, he doesn’t see it as a form of dancing, he thinks it silly and unnecessarily violent.

‘Why would anyone want to cause bodily harm to themselves — on PURPOSE?!’

Then he saw you.

Within a crowd of lively and extreme scene, you stood out uniquely. Your beauty was one in a million. Steve always told you it was love at first sight.

You didn’t have much piercings, just one on the left side of your nose. But Steve actually liked it on you.

Steve first saw you at a record store.

Yes dammit, a record store. In Steve’s time, New York was flooded with record stores. Get a good tune and pop it on the record player.

But now, with technology at its most advanced, from records to cds to iPods to iPhones. Digital streaming was at the touch of your fingertip, and it can go anywhere with you.

And record shops is a dying tradition.

That didn’t stop Steve’s love for vinyls. It made him think of home back in Brooklyn.

As Steve was lingering in the jazz section, he spotted your red dyed hair from his peripheral vision. The red hair made your smooth brown complexion stand out.

He would have never thought a punk would be searching throughout the soul/jazz/blues section.

Steve peeked from under his cap, seeing your slender brown finger tips glide gently through the records.

You fished out a Billie Holliday record, a Mahalia Jackson record, and a Sister Rosetta Tharpe record.

Your eyes caught his, and you flashed him a quick smile.

Ugh this soft boy loves your smile. He melted right there.

You were wearing a black tank top that had the word ‘punk’ in pink, with low-waisted army pants that had patches sewn into the fabric.

Steve finally got the nerve to stroll towards you, and pick up a conversation.

He came to you softly. He didn’t want to scare you off.

You reciprocated back, you instantly found him so damn attractive.

You both discussed how classic and timeless soulful blues are, and he saw the glimmer in your eyes especially when you talk about black and brown musicians.

He loved how soft-spoken you were, and not every other word you uttered was a cuss.

He thought back when he saw Louis Armstrong live as a youngster, but he didn’t mention that to you.

He didn’t want his icebreaker to be “hey I’m hundred years old, wanna go out on a date?”

Soon enough, you exchanged numbers. He was excited. He felt like a teenager again.

At the Avengers tower, he sped to his room and quickly dialed your number.

After a few months of dating, you’ve learned that your elderly, enough to be your great grandpa boyfriend wasn’t so keen on the type of music you so fondly love.

So you decided to take it upon yourself to show him the greatness that is punk rock.

This anti-capitalistic lifestyle, the message it portrays spits in the face of authority, but yet he came to respect it because he would see how passionate you speak on justice for all, and fight against the machine. Especially how it helped you channel your rage and problems with racism growing up as a black girl.

You showed him documentaries on the history of punk, he definitely loves the riot grrl movement. He loves to see women stand up for themselves, and revolt for what is right.

Ya know our baby boy Steve is a feminist. A true gentleman.

Finally you got him to listen to some punk music, although he still isn’t the biggest fan, you catch him from time to time scouring through your collection of records to listen to.

You even found him humming and mumbling under his breath, “hey ho, let’s go”.

You’re apart of an all-girls band, and he’s so damn supportive, he goes to see all your shows, and even sports the merch you both work hard on at home.

A DIY queen needs a DIY king.

Steve would not partake in the moshing, hell no. He would be either in the back of the crowd, standing in the corner to have a full view of his love performing or in backstage, watching you.

He does get worried when you stage dive, his instincts go in full turbo-mode, but he has to remember that you’re having fun.

But that won’t stop him from beating on anybody who gets too handsy with you in the pit.

He loves you very much, and actually gotten use to punk rock. He’s now seen the posivity it can be for the youth, sometimes he sings along with you in the car to some punk music.

He may be a old man, but he’s not entirely out of touch, being able to enough his new life, especially now with you by his side.

#steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers imagine #marvel fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #headcanon

[zayashmaya]

Gamzee x Reader; SFW

You win a prize for Gamzee at a carnival. 

@compositecreature i dedicate this to u and our brainstorming sessions 

The starry night sky was all aglow with an endless sea of neon-lit stalls and a giant ferris wheel dominating the coastline. The boardwalk you currently strolled through with Gamzee was packed with people, creating a never-ending path of obstacles to maneuver around as you gripped his hand so you would not lose each other. You had just gotten off a particularly terrifying roller coaster, and you decided a nice, relaxing walk was needed to calm your nerves.

Except hanging out with Gamzee was always a crazy ride in of itself. You could never predict his strange moods or what excited him. The carnival trip was intended to lift his spirits and make him feel more at ease, yet at certain moments when he thought you were not paying attention, you could see his ever-present smile fall as he stared at the scenery before him.

This was a response you somewhat anticipated, and you certainly knew he would hide this side of him from you. Gamzee never liked to reminisce on the past, after all, always bottling up the unpleasant and throwing them out into the sea of his endless thoughts. You were working on that with him. Once in a while, he would humor you, reaching out for a bottle and popping it open for a quick gander. He didn’t always like what was inside.

You squeezed his hand to get his attention, and as quick as lightening that dopey smile returned when he looked down at you. “WhAt’S cOoKiNg AlL uP iN tHe AgEnDa FoR uS, mY gOoD sIs?”

“That depends on you,” you said. “I’ve been doing a lot of the leading so far. What do you wanna do?”

“I dIdN’t GeT mY tHiNk On MuCh FoR sOmE sUcH oPtIoNs, WhAt WiTh ThIs AlL bEiNg A hUmAn ThInG. aIn’T nOtHiN hErE mAkIn MuCh SeNsE. lIkE tHaT wEiRd MoThErFuCkEr — “ He pointed to what initially seemed like a silver statue, until the performer moved ever so slowly to change his pose while onlookers took photos. “WhAt ThE mOtHeRfUcK iS tHaT nOiSe? aIn’T nEvEr SeEn SuCh ShIt In My LiFe. ThAt BrOtHeR’s GoT hIs PaInT aLl Up AnD oN lIKe Me AnD pEoPlE aRe MakInG sTrAiGhT fOoLeRy OvEr HiM wItH aLl ThE pIcTuReTaKiNg."

You spent a good minute laughing at his genuine confusion as Gamzee glared at his source of discontentment. “I guess they didn’t have buskers on your planet?”

“NoT aNy ThAt gOt ThE mOtHeRfUcKiN gUmPtIoN tO bE mOcKiNg A mEsSiAhS-fEaRiN cLoWn.”

“This is just performance art, Gamzee. I promise he has no idea what the Messiahs even are.” You tugged on his hand to lead him away, offering him a bite of your cotton candy to appease him. He promptly devoured the sugary dessert, licking away the stickiness from his teeth. You eyes lingered on the motion for a little too long, and you quickly busied yourself with finding a new attraction.

The passivity of sitting in rides had lost its charm. It was time for something a little more active.

Your eyes settled on an old arch nemesis from your childhood — the water gun race. The stall’s cheery glowing lights and hoard of prizes mocked you, beckoning you onward as you set course for the game with renewed vigor. Gamzee obediently trailed after you, refusing to release his hold on your hand even as you sped in front of him. “WhAt’S gOt A fIrE lIt AlL uP aNd UnDeR yOu, SuGaR bUtT?”

You froze, a laugh rising out of you so fast you nearly choked on it. ”What did you call me?”

He smirked cheekily. “gOnNa KeEp EaTiNg aLl ThE wIcKeD pInK cLoUdS, gOnNa GeT hIt At WiTh sOmE sIcKnAsTy NiCkNaMeS.”

“Is that your way of telling me you want more?”

“hAhA yEaH bAbY pAsS tHaT gOoD sHiT rIgHt On OvEr HeRe.”

Gamzee effortlessly plucked the cotton candy cone from you after a very quick and one-sided skirmish, swinging his arm across your shoulders and patting your head condescendingly as he happily reaped the spoils of war. You poked his ribs in retaliation. “We’re gonna change things up a bit,” you explained, pointing to the stall. “Fancy a game with me?”

“Oh DaMn, YoU wAnNa GeT yOuR cHaLlEnGe On WiTh ThIs MoThErFuCkEr?” He leered down at you. “BeTtEr SqUaRe Up ReAl GoOd My FuNkY MoNkEy PoO, cAuSe YoU’rE gOnNa LoSe.”

“You’re really going all out with the nicknames tonight,” you snickered.

“OnE oF uS hAs GoTtA aLl uP aNd Do It, SiNcE yOu’Re A dRy AsS mOfO :o) "

“Oooh? Don’t be so sure of that, buggy boo.”

Gamzee's cocky grin faltered, and the tips of his ears flushed purple. He removed his arm from your shoulders, and you momentarily felt the loss before he took your hand once more and led you to the game stall.

Three children were preoccupied with aiming into the mouths of the clown targets, their freakishly gaping maws twisted up into mocking smiles. Gamzee took one look at the array of heads lined up against the wall and glanced at you with an incredulous expression. “yO tHeY gOt MoRe Of ThOsE pAiNtEd Up MoThErFuCkErS?”

“Yeah!” You sat on one of the stools, and Gamzee followed suit. “You have to shoot water into their mouths to fill up the balloons on their heads and make them explode. First person who does it gets a prize."

“hAhAhAhA wHaT tHe FuCk … “

While the booth operator collected money from you for the next round, Gamzee aimed his water gun with dramatic concentration, his tongue sticking out as he waited for the game to begin. You giggled quietly to yourself and positioned your gun, droning out the sound of the operator explaining how to play. This was your moment. You were finally going to win this stupid game, and claim a prize.

As soon as the bell rang, your water stream miraculously hit its target. You were too focused on keeping your position locked in place to listen to Gamzee curse and fumble with his gun, and you were trying your damnedest not to laugh as his water stream somehow wobbled like a snake in midair and completely missed its mark.

“ThIs ShIt iS sTrAiGhT uP oFfEnSiVeLy RiGgEd!”

“Don’t curse, there’s kids around,” you quipped back, and with the triumphant pop of your chosen clown’s balloon, you threw your arms up into the air and shouted, “Hell yes, motherfucker!”

The operator threw you an unamused look while you excitedly scanned the selection of stuffed toys.

And then you saw it. The perfect gift.

A lavender colored monkey with ridiculously long arms, and velcro stuck on the palms of its hands.

Gamzee chuckled at your choice as you hugged it tightly to your chest, trailing on after you as you continued to explore the carnival. “I’ve never won that game before,” you wistfully said, running your fingers through the incredibly soft fur of the plushie.

“DaNg, HoW’s A bRoThEr SuPpOsEd tO gEt HiS wIn On WhEn FaCeD wItH sOmE sUcH dEtErMiNaTiOn?”

“You never stood a chance,” you teased, and he pinched your cheek in retaliation. “It wasn’t so much about winning for my sake as it was about winning a prize for you.”

“FoR mE, bAbE?”

“Yep!” You stepped in front of him and wrapped the monkey’s arms around his neck, clasping its hands together to make them hold. Gamzee wordlessly held the plushie to his chest, staring down at it with an inscrutable expression. “It’s for your nightmares. Since I’m not always around, I figured maybe this could help you. You know. Like you could hold onto the motherfucker and all that jazz.”

He blinked at you, stupefied and unsure of how to react. You smiled warmly and made to move away, but he grasped your upper arm before you could turn. The monkey’s silly grin accosted your eyes as Gamzee leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “tHaNkS,” he shyly murmured, and when your eyes met, you suddenly realized how close he was to your face. To your lips.

It could have been either one of you who made the first move. One way or another, you found yourself on your tiptoes and a hand curled into Gamzee’s shirt, his arm looped around your waist and the stuffed animal between you keeping you both from melting into each other.

Whatever you had expected your first kiss with Gamzee to be like was nothing like this. His lips were cool and smooth, moving gently against yours without a hint of teeth. Your tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip before the shriek of a child jolted you back into awareness — shit we’re still in public — and you reluctantly pulled away, your heart hammering in your chest and your cheeks flushed. Gamzee searched your face as he reached out to caress your cheek, the predatory look in his eyes a stark contrast to his boyish smile.

“Your mouth still tastes like cotton candy,” you blurted out.

“tHaT’s CuZ yOu’Re AlL tHiNkIn LiKe WiTh YoUr StOmAcH aNd NoT yOuR bRaIn. BuT yOu BeTtEr StArT tHiNkIn WiTh YoUr HeArT iF yOu WaNt MoRe Of ThAt TaStE.”

You hid your face in his chest while he chuckled. “You’re so corny,” you said, your words muffled by his shirt.

“yEaH i Am, GoT mE aLl StIfF lIkE a MoThAfUcKiN cOrN-oN-ThE-SlObBeRiN-cOb BeInG aLl CuTe AnD pReSsEd Up AgAiNsT mE aLl SuCh.”

“I knew you couldn’t resist being crass for a moment longer.”

“HaHaHa YoU kNoW iT, mY sWeEt SpAcE mOnKeY.”

“Stop teasing me, you … silly … stevia … “

“wEaK sAuCe.”

You planted a kiss on his grinning mouth to shut him up.

#i actually wrote something????? #can you BELIEVE??? #gamzee makara #homestuck #gamzee/reader #gamzee x reader #oneshot #fanfic

[rainosa]

Phanniemay 2018 - DNA

I remember a long time ago reading a fic that was like “Dani can’t be a clone, she’s a girl, that’s not how cloning works” and turned it into a story where Dani actually ended up being essentially a test tube baby of Danny and Sam, but I wanted to see where that might go in our post trans Danny world

I haven’t written fanfiction in a long time, so I might be rusty, but I don’t have the resources to do an art piece every day so here we are :/

“So, who is Dani actually?”

“What?” Danny spins into a direct and questioning look from Sam, heart leaping into his throat at the surety in her voice. She hasn’t waited even two minutes after Dani’s departure before asking (if Danny squints, he thinks he can still see her flying away in the distance), so that tells him two things: one, whatever he tells her, she’s willing to keep it between them if he needs to, and two, she’s absolutely sure she’s right, and no amount of beating around the bush will take her off the scent of this one. Whatever secret it is that she’s set her sights on, she must have determined that it’s something he needs to talk to someone about. And, well, if he’s being honest, he probably should confide in someone about this one.

Sam folds her arms and shifts her weight with confidence, “C’mon Danny, spill. I know she’s not your cousin.”

“And how would you know that?” he decides to dodge anyway.

She gives him an empathetic half-smirk, “Well for one thing, the likelihood of another portal opening up to create another half-ghost, who just happens to be related to you and looks exactly like you is about a bazillion times too ridiculous to actually happen. Also, I asked Jazz if you guys have any cousins. Guess what her answer was.”

Danny shrugs, “Well, damn. Guess the jig is up.”

“To be fair, it wasn’t a very good jig in the first place,” Sam softly chuckles. She bumps against his shoulder, “So, mind telling me the real deal?”

He nods, but he can feel himself tensing up, and he can tell that she can tell he’s tensing up. With a gentle hand on his arm, she steers them into the house and onto the stairs, seeking out the privacy of his room. Once he’s sitting on his own bed with the door closed, he can feel a bit of a weight off his shoulders. Sam knows him well. She’ll know how this kind of thing might impact him, and she’ll know what to do. He can talk to her.

After checking to make sure both the window and the door are locked, Sam takes a seat in the desk chair across from him, “Okay, gimme the bad stuff. Who’ve we gotta punch?”

“Pfft,” he half-heartedly breathes, “It’s just Vlad again. No one we don’t already need to punch.”

“Disappointing,” she nods, “but not unexpected. To what do we owe him the pleasure?”

A long and tired sigh slips out as Danny rubs at the back of his neck, “Vlad...is trying to clone me.”

Sam blinks. Danny decides to forge ahead.

“Apparently he’s been doing it for a while, as sort of a back-up plan for when I refused to join him. It’s not a plan that’s worked up until now because...well, because the clones kept coming out not fully formed. Most of them were so unstable that they just kind of...melted, after coming out of the lab. Some of them...God, Sam, I couldn’t even describe some of them to you, they were so hard to look at.I shut the place down as best I could but Dani - I couldn’t. I can’t. She’s her own person. She’s the most stable of Vlad’s clones, and the only one that can think for herself, and she deserves to live a real life. So, I called her my cousin just so she could....I dunno, feel some of that? God, I don’t know. It’s just all a lot. It’s crazy and overwhelming and unimaginable, and I don’t have the time to deal with a lot of it right now, so I let Dani go. I’m just - I don’t know, it’s a lot.”

Sam’s already beside him on the bed, pulling him into a one-armed hug, and he ducks his head into her shoulder. He can feel his breathing has sped up, but as she carefully smoothes out the wrinkles on the back of his shirt with a soothing hand, he starts to calm himself, and slowly it stops being a struggle to take in air. Tears that had been waiting at the corners of his eyes recede, just as Sam speaks up.

“I’m so sorry all that happened to you Danny,” she comforts, starting to run a hand through his hair, “That’s awful, and no one should have to see that or deal with that, especially you.”

Danny nods, “Thanks Sa-”

“But -” she interrupts, “I’m like 200% sure that’s not how cloning works.”

Danny blinks in surprise, and pulls away, “What?”

“Cloning,” Sam repeats, turning to face him properly, “It needs to copy your DNA directly, and no matter how much tampering is done to it, science still can’t change certain things. Exhibit A: the whole entire sex of the DNA. People can’t just change a whole ass chromosome, Danny. Dani can’t be your clone, because it’s physically impossible.”

“Wait what?” Danny sits straight up, “No, I know that you can’t change the sex of DNA, but Dani is still like super obviously my clone. I mean, take two seconds to look at the both of us.”

Sam shrugs, “Hey, I’m not saying you don’t share a resemblance, but the fact remains: your DNA is male, and hers isn’t. Whatever Vlad did, it’s not-”

“No, wait - no, oh my god, what the fuck, how has this not come up before,” Danny starts blabbering excitedly, an embarrassed blush coming to his face.

“Danny, I don’t know what you think denial is gonna do for you here -” Sam attempts again, only to be interrupted by Danny reaching out and taking her by the wrists.”

“No Sam, shut up, oh my god, you’re wrong, that’s all wrong, the whole thing is wrong, trust me. Oh my god I can’t believe this. How have I never mentioned it? How did you never pick up on it? This is both the best and the most unbelievable thing to ever happen to me,” he rambles. Really? There’s no way that this whole time she didn’t know. But god damn, if she really didn’t know, then his personal self-confidence was about to take a trip to the moon.

Sam shakes him until he’s making eye contact with her again, “Danny! What is it? What am I missing here?”

He can tell his cheeks are bright red right now as he grins from ear to ear, “Well ok, I mean, it’s just…”

“You really thought I was a cis guy this whole time?”

Sam’s jaw drops, “What?! Oh my god!”

Danny pulls away from her again in a fit of giggles, “I can’t believe you didn’t know! I thought I wasn’t ‘passing’! This is like, the first time I’ve got to come out in reverse!”

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” Sam puts her head in her hands, laughter shaking her whole body now, “Ahh I can’t believe myself!”

“This is I think the most affirming thing anyone has ever done for me and you didn’t even -”

“And I didn’t even mean to do it ahhhh I know!!” Sam yells quietly, both hands covering her entire face, “How did I not know this?!”

“I guess when you moved here I figured you just knew?? I mean look at you, I figured you could spot a trans guy, you’re all social injustice incarnate over here,” Danny chuckles.

“I am! I am! The thing is I am! I’m just also super oblivious I guess!” Sam swivels to look Danny in the face as she stage-whispers to him, hands still shielding either side of her face.

“And then -” Danny’s sentences start falling apart as laughter takes over, “-oh my god, Sam - and then I guess it just coincidentally hasn’t come up - coincidentally!”

“I can’t believe this,” Sam flops backwards onto the bed, “I don’t know if I should say sorry or you’re welcome?”

“I don’t know either!” Danny dissolves into giggles and flops back with her.

“Well, okay, let’s try this,” she shifts so she can see Danny again, “Sorry for being a dumb fuck.”

“Pfft, Sam -” Danny starts, but she holds out a finger to stop him.

“And you’re welcome for the confidence boost. But also, sorry for derailing the talk about clones like that. I didn’t want you to feel like that wasn’t important.”

“Ah - hmm. Right,” Danny sobers a bit, suddenly remembering how they reached this topic.

Sam drops back down to the bed, and for a moment, neither of them say anything.

“Actually, you know what, thanks,” Danny twists his head awkwardly to look back at Sam, “It might not have been on topic, but hey, it certainly did help me feel better. So don’t feel bad about it. It was nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sam huffs, “Okay good, because I have no idea how to deal with clone feelings, I did not have a plan.”

Danny smacks her in the face with a pillow.

#danny phantom #phanniemay #phanniemay18 #trans danny #my writing #for real though this was super fun to write #very rarely do i seek out feel-good stuff for fanfiction so even typing this was a surprise #i just really miss dp y'know? #now that i'm on break i hope i can bet back into it #it's just good

[austinlockard-blog]

When You Wish . . .

The fields of the world on the other side shined bright with a calming green, and the cliffs offered a cool shadow for the brothers to rest in. Everything had been peaceful for what seemed like years to them, but the time there was different; comprehensible only for those born of that world. Alex and Tanner sat in front of one of the many large cliffs in the lush field, waiting.

     Tanner opened his mouth, readying to yawn. “I think you’re full of bologna.” he said, stretching his arms.

     “No, no. Peb had this huge filing cabinet thing, and in one of the files was a paper, then on the back of that paper was a picture of a box. When you opened the box, there was another box, then opening that box was another paper.” Alex rambled.

     Tanner drooped his eyes as he zoned out. “Uh huh.”

     Alex lifted his hands, forming a cube shape in front of him. “And that paper had instructions to wait right here in this field. At what will be 2 a.m. on our watches, the white rabbit will appear.”

     “Uh huh.”

     Alex opened his hand, flattening his palm. “All we gotta do is wait for it, then catch it, and boom!” He drove his fist into his open hand. “We get free wishes.”

     Not moving, Tanner darted his eyes over to his brother. “Three wishes? Isn’t that a bit cliché?” he said.

     “No, no. Free wishes, not three wishes. These wishes are free, no payment necessary.”

     Tanner sat up and crossed his legs. “Like we could have of gone out and bought a wish? That’s not a thing. It doesn’t make sense to call them ‘free wishes’ if we gotta wait out here forever and catch some rabbit that doesn’t exist.”

     Alex leaned towards his brother, grinning. “You said ghosts didn’t exist but look where we are now.” Alex bounced his eyebrows.

     “That’s different.”

     “No, it isn’t.”

     “Yes, it is.”

     “No, it isn’t.”

     “Yes, it is.”

     “No, it isn’t.”

     “Yes, it isn’t.”

     Alex pointed at Tanner. “Hah! You said it isn’t!”

     Tanner glared at his brother, showing no regards to wait outside in the heat any longer. “Why didn’t you get Tracy to come with us. She could’ve like, I don’t know, formed an air-conditioned bubble, turn rocks into chips,” he ran his fingers down his face, pulling at the skin, “heck, she could’ve even sped up time maybe. She kinda does what she wants to and she’s yet to show any signs of running out of abilities.” he grumbled. “Look, it’s hot out here. Can we just go back to the house and get some food?”

     “Tracey didn’t believe me. Besides, she already has like, whatever she needs. I want my wishes.” Alex lifted a pair of binoculars to his eyes, gazing around the many open fields.

     “What about Bucky? Doesn’t he always have a bubble of cool air around him? You could’ve brought him.”

     Alex lowered the binoculars slowly, realizing the flaw to his plan. “Oh yeah. I could have done that, couldn’t I?” He tapped his chin and hummed an offsetting tune, then transitioned it into the cymbals of smooth jazz. He turned around and grabbed his backpack, rummaging through the assorted supplies he had brought. He pulled out a round mirror no bigger than two feet and handed it to Tanner. “Here, look through this and find Bucky. It’s hot as pie out here and we don’t need to be sweating up any pit stains.” he said.

     Tanner took the mirror and looked all through the many reflections. “Yep, hot as pie.”

     Alex looked at his watch. 1:40 a.m. “And, wait for it.” He looked up into the sky as the sun faded out and the projections of the moon rose from the blue darkness, then lowered his head, returning his gaze to the binoculars. “Mmm. Humidity.” Sweat seeped from his skin and ran down the side of his head. “Yeah, we gotta get Bucky over here.”

     Tanner continued to swipe the mirror, searching for Bucky. Five minutes came and went and he still couldn’t find him. “Man, where is he?” Tanner grumbled.

 Bucky clinked his glass of champagne and proceeded to sip, admiring the accuracy of the Goblins’ details in movie form as it was to the book. The man on screen creep slowly but steadily towards a silver locker across from him. He began to lift the lock, pulling the door open. “Honey, is this cool or what? Look at that crisp detail!” he said.

     The orchestra of the scene brought a gripping fear to Katrina as the man swung the door completely open, revealing an empty locker. She sighed, leaning back. “It’s wonderful, Bucky.” The man turned around. A fierce creature crouched down in front of him, dripping drool and snarling. It released a harmful shriek and lunged for the man. While just a jump-scare, it held strong enough to shake her. Katrina yelped, jumping up.

     Bucky laughed. “Scaredy-cat.” he said.

     Katrina smirked and gently smacked her husband’s chest. “Shut up.” she laughed.

Tanner could just make out Bucky’s face through the fizzing yellow of the champagne. “Bucky!” he shouted. Bucky sat still, watching his movie.

     Alex bounced up and looked at Tanner. “You found him? Let me see.” he said, taking the mirror. “Bucky!” he shouted. Bucky continued to watch his movie. Alex looked all around the other side and admired the setup. “Woah. Bucky’s got an in-home movie theater. Cool!” he said. He looked back up into the sky. One singular cloud occupied the space above them. “Hmmm. . .” Alex pulled his legs up to his chin and rested his teeth on his knees. “That cloud is oddly peculiar.” Clouds flew in from all over, surrounding the lone one. Alex nudged Tanner’s leg. “Tanner, Tanner, it’s happening!” he shouted. He pushed himself off the warm ground, eager to touch his dreams in his very palms.

     Tanner followed in his brother’s actions. “Oh, wow.” he huffed. “I guess you were telling the truth.”

     A diamond of pure light descended from the clouds, touching the soil. It stretched and reformed over and over, then stopped. A small rabbit, white as the brightest star at night, hopped around carelessly. It grunted, then began to sigh in relief. Alex and Tanner tip-toed over, careful not to make a sound. They came up close to it as it still sighed. Alex began to lean in, spreading his arms out wide; preparing to catch. The light rabbit slowly looked back. “Woah, woah, woah!” it shouted.

     Alex pulled back. “Wha? . . . You can talk?” he brushed his vest.

     “Of course I can talk, now get away from me!” The rabbit shoed the boys away. He finished his business and turned around, brushing his fur. “Alright, alright. I know what this is.” he grumbled angrily.

     Alex stepped back even further. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just—“

     “You just wanted some wishes, don’ch ya?” the rabbit concluded. He folded his ears back, then bounced them up. “It’s that damn legend, wasn’t it?” he pointed at Alex.

     “Y-Yes, sir.” Alex said.

     The rabbit scrunched his forehead. “I only get ten minutes to wiz every day and this happens.” He pinched his forehead and smoothed it out. “Okay, kids. What do you want?”

     Bucky stepped into the group from behind the two boys. “Just about to ask the same thing. I thought I heard something. Did you guys try reaching me through my champagne glass?” he asked.

     Tanner looked back. “Oh, hey. Yeah, we wanted to see if you could hang out with us on this stake-out to keep us cool.” He pulled his shirt collar out. “It’s like a million degrees out here.”

     Bucky laughed. “Maybe start with wearing something other than a long-sleeve?”

     “This outfit is trademarked.” Tanner replied.

     The light rabbit clapped his little paws. “Hey, hey! Wishes! I don’t got all day!”

     Alex lifted his finger gently. “Night.”

     The rabbit flailed his arms, angry at the time they were wasting. “Whatdaya want?” he shouted.

     Alex clenched his fists and leaned forward. “The ability to run uncomprehendably fast without negative consequences!”

     “Same thing!” Tanner shouted.

     Bucky perked up, realizing the reality of the situation. Anything he wanted. Any dream or desire would be granted. He pushed the two aside. “Immunity to sunlight without unintended consequences!” he yelled.

     The light rabbit raised his paw. A yellow beam shot from the tip of his index finger and formed three rings above them. Alex looked up and gazed admiringly at the three rings. One for each of them. He worked hard and stayed up all night to reach this point. Life was going to be a whole lot of fun from here on out. The rings zapped onto the hands of the proper owners and the rabbit turned around. “Alright. Goodbye!” he said as he beamed back into the clouds above.

     Alex jumped up and down, then disappeared. Tanner cocked his head; confused as to where his brother went. Alex returned, then another. “Huh?” he said looking over at himself. “Hey Tanner, I think I’m too fast.” he said.

     “What gave it away. The fact that there are two of you?” he mumbled.

     Bucky danced his way off the ground and twirled back in forth in the air, looking at his new ring. “Hah!” he laughed. He bounced around the air some more, vigorously swinging his legs in a burst of joy and excitement. “With this, I won’t need that clunky suit! Do you know how badly I want to go outside and play with my kids without that thing?” he cried. “Thank you! Thank you!” he said as he flew back through the mirror.

     One of the Alex’s looked over. “Hey Tanner, I think I’m too fast.”

     The brothers looked at each other, then back at the other Alex. “I think you broke reality.” Tanner laughed.

#Nightmin #The Gother Brothers #Funny #Funny story #Funny story 2017

[theastonishingkylejackson]

The Astonishing Indiana Fever Head Coach Pokey Chatman Found The Time To Chat With Our Publisher About Her Successes, Achievements, And Her Own Astonishing Tales – Written By The Astonishing Kyle Jackson, Publisher of The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine 

The Astonishing Kyle Jackson, Publisher of The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine

  It’s not everyday you get a chance to interview a true basketball great who comes straight out of your neck of the woods.

Pokey Chatman is from Ama, Louisiana, a town in St. Charles Parish, not too far from my hometown of New Orleans.

She came from humble beginnings, playing point guard at Hahnville Highschool and during that time, she was a five-time AAU All-American.

From there, Chatman stayed close to home at LSU as a player, and varying levels of coaching. After her tenure there, she traveled the globe, coaching for Spartak, the Women’s Basketball club for Moscow, Russia.

But those are all things you’ll hear about covered in our interview below. Pokey Chatman is much more than her basketball career. She’s astonishing, and you’re going to get a first look into her way of life, way of thinking, and her success, achievements and how she got there.

We love astonishing people, it shows in what we do, and Ms. Chatman has taken time out of her busy schedule to show you how she’s astonishing.

Take a look below.

The Loaded Question: The Astonishing Interview With The Astonishing Pokey Chatman

The Astonishing Pokey Chatman

The Astonishing Kyle Jackson: So… first question. Do you still ride motorcycles?

Pokey Chatman: Yes, I still ride.  Although not as often as I would like to.  It’s something I’ve put on my list to prioritize in 2018.  You know the saying: “Four wheels move the body, two wheels move the soul.”

TAKJ: What model is your favorite to ride?

PC: I own a 2007 Street Glide.  It’s the perfect combination of “street” and “cruising.” Lots of speed and power, but also a nice comfortable ride, and sound system.

TAKJ: Cool. Let me shift the gears for a second – Do you believe that coaching in Moscow, Russia, expanded your career and credentials, and what lessons did you learn by going abroad?

PC: Coaching abroad was such an invaluable experience it’s hard to even put into words. First and foremost, it was an opportunity to coach some of the best players in the world. Diana Taurasi, Lauren Jackson, Sue Bird, Becky Hammon, Tina Thompson, Seimone Augustus (again), Sylvia Fowles (again), Candice Dupree (who is currently on my team in Indiana), Epiphany Prince, who also was on my team in Chicago for a few years, just to name a few.  

Secondly, it was with one of the most storied professional teams in Europe which gave me an opportunity to learn the international game and it’s players.  This then allowed me to utilized areas of play when I took over in Chicago, that I believed helped us get on the winning track.  For instance, the pace of the game, the developed skilled set of post players. In Europe the bigs step out, shoot threes, handle the rock, etc.  NOW, 7 years later the WNBA has sped up and spaced the floor.  I would say this helped my teams in Chicago as we looked to build and eventually made a nice run to the Finals in 2014.

Russia/Europe also helped because it taught me how to “become comfortable, with being uncomfortable.”  The food, the culture, the language barrier.  I made the decision to not utilize a translator and learn the language.  I’m not fluent, but I was able to effectively communicate with my driver and the team.  It also taught me how to become an better communicator, a better teacher as a coach.

TAKJ: Wow. Great answer! Ok, so your talents are on par with Tennessee Lady Volunteers Coach Pat Summitt. Did you learn anything from her career and accomplishments during your time as a player and later on as a coach? 

PC: I have to respectfully disagree with you. I appreciate your sentiment, but Pat Summit’s a legend, a role model, one of the winningest coaches, with several championships, has written books, was a highly sought after speaker, a pioneer….One of the GREATS.  Thank you for even mentioning my name in the same damn sentence. 

With that being said, I learned so much from Pat.  She was a close friend of my mentor Sue Gunter, therefore I had an up close and personal seat to both of their greatness. Coach Gunter was the Olympic Coach in 1980 (we boycotted), and Pat was her assistant, so they went way back.  And even as competitors, they were dear friends interested in growing our game.  Pat made it “ok” /acceptable for women coaches to be tough as nails, and demanding like their male counterpart, during a time many in society were not ready for.

Pokey Chatman with another basketball legend, Magic Johnson

And although she was deemed a tough coach, with the steely blue eyed stare she would always say, “players don’t care how much basketball you know, until they know how much you care.  It’s all about building meaningful relationships.”

TAKJ: What message do you have for young women out there wanting to pursue their goals like you did? 

PC: It’s really quite simple. Plan it, Prioritize it, Pursue it.  Especially in this day and age, with so many valuable tools and resources. We must take advantage. I would also suggest finding a mentor.

TAKJ: You grew up in Ama, LA and went to Hahnville High School, right in the heart of St. Charles Parish outside of New Orleans – was it difficult to pursue such an ambitious dream as being a female basketball player?

PC: As I think back, it was difficult on my mom and sister because they sacrificed so much to provide an opportunity for me to play AAU basketball. You see, back in the day (I’m 48 going on 49), there was only a handful of teams and it costs money, and you had to find transportation, etc.  But low and behold, they made it happen for me, which gave me the platform to be exposed to a disciplined top notched AAU organization, superior coaching which led to many scholarships offers.  

It was the only way I could have attended LSU. And honestly, at the time, i was simply thinking about getting an education and finding a really good job. I had no idea that coaching would even be an option to make a living. It has been an amazing journey and hard to believe I will embark upon my 26th year of coaching.  God is good…All the time!

TAKJ: In your opinion, what is one of your most noteworthy accomplishments in your career?

PC: The fact that after 26 years, I’m still able to do what I absolutely LOVE and get paid for it. But, also watching the growth and success of players that I’ve had the pleasure of coaching. I think in today’s climate I have a greater appreciation for being a GM and Head Coach of two different professional organizations (Chicago for 6 yrs, and just recently being named GM in my second year in Indiana).  It’s a rare thing, yet a beautiful thing.  I’m often reminded that not many black females can say they are at the helm of a professional basketball team.  Truly grateful!

TAKJ: What year do you think was the best year for talent selection in collegiate basketball?

PC: I think Seimone Augustus signing with LSU in 2002 was the genesis of the success that followed. All the final 4s, the attendance records, perennial powerhouse etc.  She got it started! And has continued representing her city, state, and country.

TAKJ: You are now the Head Coach of the WNBA’s Indiana Fever, a state that is known to be the basketball belt of the USA. What’s like being in a place that values basketball so much, a sport you obviously love? 

PC: It is hard to put into words… Basically, basketball is LIFE in Indiana. The mantra is: We GROW Basketball!  You can sense it from the outside, but now that I’m on board, wow. It’s real, authentic you can feel it in your soul. I am so fortunate to have been blessed with this amazing opportunity.

A little background: After one of my better years in Chicago (finishing 3rd, losing to the eventual champs, without our super star player) I was fired 2 weeks after the season.  The same day I was fired, Indiana was on the phone with my agent and 3 weeks later I was introduced as the new head coach of the Indiana Fever.  I mention this because coming from a state that values basketball, and an organization that had previously won a championship, it made me feel on top of the world they chose me.  

TAKJ: What are some of your favorite bands and musicians? If we were looking, what would we find on your music playlist?

PC: Music is my first love! My music library is about 20,000 songs deep. This is prior to Apple Music!  I have a wide range when it comes to tunes. I love Jazz, R&B, some hip hop, Electronic, Lounge, Gospel, etc.  Honestly, you can find a lil Tupac, Sade, Alex Bugnon, Trombone Shorty, Beyonce, Luther, The Internet(Syd the Kid), No Limit Soldiers, Teena Marie, Alicia Keys….I could go on for days…I LOVE MUSIC.

TAKJ: What’s a guilty pleasure you enjoy to unwind from stress?

PC: I love grapes, (laughs) …Red Wine is my guilty pleasure. Cheers. Next up a nice single malt, and smooth small batch whiskey.

TAKJ: I totally get you on the small batch whiskey! Obviously in life, we all make sacrifices to achieve our goals. What’s one sacrifice you made that is noteworthy, that was necessary to accomplish your goals?

PC: At an early age, EVERY weekend was spent practicing on Friday, twice on Saturday and once Sunday morning with an AAU team, sleeping at someone’s house with about 6-8 other people from out of town.  No dances, and parties and fun stuff.  But at the time it did not seem like a sacrifice. In retrospect I missed out on a lot, but I would not trade it for the anything.

TAKJ: Much like many of us at The Astonishing Tales, you’re Louisiana born and bred. Do you get a chance to go home much? And in your opinion, how different is the rest of the world from South Louisiana?

PC: I’m fortunate in that I am able to be home 3-4 months out of the year. Our WNBA season is May-October, which allows for tremendously flexibility during the off season. I hate to admit this, but my 6 years in Europe helped me fall in love with the city of New Orleans. While abroad I was able to visit amazing places while I “worked.” Prague, Budapest, Bratislava, Paris, Vienna, Istanbul, Athens, Salamanca, Riga, Madrid… to name a few.

Low and behold, while sitting in Plaza Mayor and observing the amazing architecture, I’m reminded of home… And the people and the food…NOLA vibes abound. And let’s not forget France, and Joan of Arc, nicknamed “the Maid of Orleans.”  I came home, found a quiet place, off the beaten path in my city, that I marinate in and soak up the culture, vibes, music… My safe place, tucked away in a city known to many for it partying…. It’s my solace. My 950 square feet of heaven….

TAKJ: Now, many people probably forget that you were a member of the USA Women’s Basketball team, which won a Gold Medal at the FIBA America’s Championship in Sao Paulo, Brazil, in 1988. Looking back on it, what was that experience like to be a part of that team, and add a gold medal to your accomplishments? And what does it mean for you now?

PC: Wow, I’m surprised you even asked about that.  The entire USA basketball experience has been a powerful and positive influence on my life. It exposed me to traveling and learning about different cultures at an early age.  Sao paulo Brazil, Copa cabana beach, Christ the Redeemer… such a beautiful place.  And to think basketball took me there. Truly amazing! 1987….the beginning of my journey into adulthood.

TAKJ: In your opinion, where are you at in your career as coach, and what are your future plans that you are aiming to accomplish?

PC: I want to continue coaching as long as I’m making a positive impact on the people I’m surrounded by, and I understand now, that is not always measured by wins and losses. I can’t imagine being too far away from this amazing game…I’m so big on being “PRESENT,” I don’t allow myself to lose focus on what’s in front of me…With that being said, I’m always open to opportunities.  I have always wanted an academy that utilized basketball to serve the youth and help enhance those areas necessary for them  to succeed in life.

TAKJ: It’s important to note that you were a female basketball player before there was an WNBA. How do you feel about the leaps and bounds that have been made for women professionally in your lifetime in sports? And are there still more to go?

PC: I’m so excited with the growth of women’s basketball on every level.  The WNBA is only 22 years old and in comparison to it’s BIG brother, the NBA, it’s way ahead of schedule in terms of popularity and exposure.  

Don’t misunderstand me, we have a long way to go and it will take a concerted effort to achieve the status these amazing women deserve, and I am confident we will get there.  TRUST the Process!

  TAKJ: Has it ever occurred to you that one day, you could be asked to coach in the NBA? What would be your response?

PC: I’ve had the pleasure of coaching Becky Hammon and we’re close friends. I have to admit, it was not until Pop (Spurs) hired her I even let that opportunity creep into my head… It would take a unique set of circumstances for that to happen, and like most opportunities, I would welcome the opportunity to listen.  But in the spirit of being PRESENT… Indiana Fever is the ONLY thing on my mind.

TAKJ: Who have been some of the biggest impacting influences in your life and career?

PC: My mom and my sister…My rocks, my foundation. And then, Sue Gunter, my mentor…My friend…My confidante…My inspiration.

TAKJ: People forget that being a successful basketball coach is your career – but you’re still a person. What are your favorite movies and what kinds of films do you enjoy watching? Do you even get a chance to watch Netflix, or TV programming with your busy life?

PC: I’m late to the TV game… My lifestyle is simply not conducive to a lot of TV watching.  Netflix and Hulu have become a part of my life, simply as a means to catch up…I  am not a movie person. Shameful, I know.  My peeps make fun of me all the time. Hell, I haven’t even seen the famous Disney films (laughs). Full disclosure, Power, Scandal, Suits, Star, Empire, Frankie and Grace, The Good Doctor, This is Us, Good Morning America, Ellen, NBC Nightly New with Lester Holt, to name a few.

TAKJ: Trust me, I understand. I rarely watch as much TV as I’d like to anymore either (laughs). SO, walk us through a day in your life.

PC: It varies depending on the time of year…In season, Well, I’m an early riser by nature so I get up around 5:30am… I meditate for 10 minutes. I need my two cups of coffee and during this time, I’m checking emails, and finalizing any video needed for practice. Next is breakfast, walk my dog, Harleigh for 20 minutes, then out the door to Banker’s Life Fieldhouse for an 8:00am staff meeting, which is basically, to go over the practice plan.

By 8:45am I make time for individuals, which is player development in small groups. Then from 10-12:30pm we practice…During training camp we often times practice twice a day (10-12:30 and 5:00-7:00pm). 1:30-2:30 post practice meeting with staff.  

We discuss the practice, what’s needed for tomorrow… Then it’s time for me to head up to my main office (GM)… This is my time to check emails and all business side of the organization emails/correspondence.  During the season I try to keep this to a 1 hour time frame… My goal is to be “out the door,” by 4pm at the latest. This allows me to get home to my dog (no worries, she has been let out and walked by the dog walker), take her on a nice 30-40 minute stroll, feed her, play with her… THEN by 5:30 I want to sit and watch the evening News (NBC, Lester Holt).

At 6pm, my goal is to watch the video of the day’s practice, then make a practice plan for the next day, obviously taking into account my staff’s input from post practice meeting. Then supper, then shower, then “make relax”…this often entails, grapes – meaning glass of wine.

TAKJ: To accomplish your levels of success, what do you think you’ve had going for you that has set you apart from others, from everybody else?

PC: That’s easy… I think I had a support system that fueled my passion. Not just my mom/sister…I had the entire community of Ama, LA, playing their role in helping me succeed. Cousins, (Jeffrey Wilson), uncles, friends, youth league coaches… THEY TOOK CARE OF ME, IN EVERY SENSE OF THE WORD.

TAKJ: Is there anything else you want to add that we haven’t asked?

PC: No, I think your questions were very good… Just would like to add, that I truly feel like I am “LTD”(Living the Dream)…and I’m so GRATEFUL.

TAKJ: Thank you for a great interview Ms. Chatman. We are forever grateful and thank you for contributions to the sport of basketball.

PC: My pleasure.

Thank you for reading our Astonishing Interview with The Astonishing Pokey Chatman. I Am The Astonishing Kyle Jackson of The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine and I Approve This Message!

The Astonishing Tales Digital Magazine is pleased to bring you this entertaining interview with Basketball Great Pokey Chatman.

We Would Also Like To Thank Ms. Chatman For Allowing Us To Interview For Her For Our Magazine.

We will strive to bring you more creative content like this. Check back often with The Astonishing Tales.

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The Astonishing Interview with Women’s Basketball Great Pokey Chatman! The Astonishing Indiana Fever Head Coach Pokey Chatman Found The Time To Chat With Our Publisher About Her Successes, Achievements, And Her Own Astonishing Tales…

[stevenvenn]

Steven's Nifty 50 of 2017 - Albums #50 - #41

It's that time again and I'm not disappointing you. Here are my favourite albums of 2017 starting with albums 50 - 41 (of 50). These are in no particular order just how I saw them relating to each other. Doing a true countdown would be too nerve-wracking. You can listen to my favourite cuts from each of the albums on Spotify and watch them on YouTube (links below). You can also read my thoughts on the albums below the links broken into 5 posts counting down by 10s. Enjoy and feel free to comment.

Spotify playlist:

https://open.spotify.com/user/stevenvenn/playlist/7qSpcgdwXuoLtIStRQeRto?si=09LiErQ9QwCONq0XEfG91Q

Youtube playlist:

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqUMf7mP_mnMOmDl94VCPIJPFliPf62a5

NOTES

41. Four Tet - New Energy (Text Records)

Kieran Hebden is back in 2017 with another beautiful collection of rich samples, zen beats, and incredible melodies that make this album, on his own Text Records label, a startling release. Incorporating small sounds of birds, countryside, and other natural sounds Hebden makes this more of a meditative headphone listen than an upbeat groover (but then that's what we've come to expect from Hebden this many albums in). There's something of the gentle grace of Boards of Canada and the 90s ambient of Aphex Twin in the retro electronics and economy of well-constructed layers. The dulcimer on "Two Thousand and Seventeen," steel drums on "Lush," and kalimba on "You Are Loved" as textural examples carry us along on their magical long loops as dreamy, marshmallow-y, and tiny synth stabs throb and dissipate over top of low tempo percussion samples. The looped melodies often create a rhythm all on their own in a lot of the songs. The meditation album session wraps up with the pulsating zen bumper "Planet" incorporating temple bells, spacey moog, and Japanese string samples. Nothing especially new here but there is a simplicity and organic quality that Hebden has really carved out over his career. This has helped him maintain his status of one of the best in electronic music.

42. Bonobo - Migration (Ninja Tune)

Another artist Simon Green has, like Four Tet, been exploring the confluence of soothing organic sounds, acoustic instrumentals, and world music with a infectious glitchy rhythm that crosses into low-key jazz textures at times. Here we have kalimba, harps, and other African instruments crashing into soft meditative synth pads. This might the most "easy listening" album by Green in his discography (not meant as a slight). The use of smooth singers like Rhye's Mike Milosh make Migration a truly chilled out affair and one of the most tranquil and relaxing listens yet.

43. Indian Wells - Cascades (Friends of Friends)

Italian producer Pietro Iannuzzi returns with a meditative collection of intricate and clean-sounding techno complete with beeps, blips, and bounces that all flow together beautifully like a dreamy electronic river. The sounds are all very colourful and bright and deliver a hypnotic and mesmerizing quality overall. There's a certain feeling of travel through music here as if by train, boat, or plane in sped up montage expressing the look of a well worn and stamped passport. Also you can't help think of the natural world of sights and sounds with song titles like "Alps" and "Forest Hills." There is a sound akin to Pantha Du Prince and other electronic producers who take you on a journey both within a song and over the course of an album and Iannuzzi's is no exception. The title track "Cascades" and the album as a whole embodies that impression of flowing falls, sounds continuing to rush by as you sit beside and get carried along by rapid beats and sounds.

44. Bing & Ruth - No Home of the Mind (4AD)

The project of composer and producer David Moore No Home of the Mind is his first on the exclusive label home for all things arty on a grand scale, 4AD. It's a dreamy and melancholy release of repeated piano notes that move along with the rhythm of a train on songs like "How It Sped." There's an emotional quality to Moore's playing that recalls other composers who cross over into the ambient and electronic genres like Max Richter and Brian Eno. Alongside all the thought-provoking and mesmerizing piano drones and repetitive phrases are various textures provided by synths and samples. What Moore's newest release also resembles too me at times is the soundtrack work of Michael Nyman. Indeed a lot of No Home of the Mind feels very cinematic.

45. High Plains - Cinderland (Kranky)

No year end check-in would be complete without a release by Scott Morgan (aka Loscil) who has released some of my favourite minimal electronic albums over the years. Following on the heels of his excellent release Monument Builders as Loscil, Morgan teams up with classically trained cellist Mark Bridges as High Plains for an album inspired by a small town in the Wyoming mountains. This a very wintry and melancholic affair with incredible depth from both collaborators with Morgan effectively laying the musical groundwork for Bridges' solemn and isolated cello sound. There's a bit of a modern twist on chamber music here that feels like a bleak winter scene from a prairie noir. At the same time there's a touch of Tangerine Dream to the pulsating electronic beds by Morgan that can't help but create images of open nocturnal spaces and thrilling mystery in the listener's mind.

46. Slow Meadow - Costero (Hammock Music)

Matt Kidd and his moving chamber ensemble and sound project return with a sophomore album of inventive, soaring, and melancholy compositions. There's a feeling of recalling past memories forever clad in amber with a patina of sadness. This pensive quality pervades the whole album but it's not so much sorrowful as accepting of memories as just the sometimes darker side of life broken up by moments of grace and sunlight. There's a really intimate quality to Kidd's compositions that describes a lot of emotion and depth just below the minimal musical surface.

47. Sarah Davachi - All My Circles Run (Students of Decay)

Vancouver-based ultra-minimal drone composer Sarah Davachi's albums always sound more like feeling you get walking around an art gallery looking at Mark Rothko paintings than following any kind of distinct rhythm. Many of the compositions here are in fact beatless and made of minimal mesmerizing drones for strings, piano, organ, and voice. In a similar way to Rothko, the simplicity is deceiving at first but if you spend time with his work you can see a lot of emotion and depth unfolding after prolonged exposure. Musically Davachi is Rothko's compositional kin. The seemingly isolated and lunar soundscape of "For Voice" takes its cues from haunting classical vocal pieces like Ligeti's "Lux Aeterna" best known as the music used to set the mood of the moonscape portion of Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey. The very minute variances in the drones here lend Davachi's pieces a feeling of nordic temperature and desolation as well with the glacially paced tonal whispers reverberating in the listener's mind long after the song has ended. There's a real sense of the importance of the smallest of variation having incredible impact.

48. Ryuichi Sakamoto - async (Milan)

The Japanese composer musical artist has been creating stunning works for 40 years or more and after a battle with cancer years ago he has released his first solo work in 8 years after being busy with other sound projects and working on the soundtrack to The Revenant. async is a literal soundscape to float within comprised mostly of soaring background retro synths, field recordings, spoken word, and occasional appearances by Sakamoto's solemn and haunting piano. The inspiration for this release was creating a soundtrack for an imaginary Tarkovsky film. You can really feel how Sakamoto interpreted the pace and experimentation of the Russian film master. There are art sound experiments that are very cinematic like the excellent "disintegration", "walker" and "full moon" that sound like art installations. The title track is a captivating piece that wouldn't be out of place as an experimental dance piece full of chilling percussive attacks on instruments. Sakamoto has always pushed the boundaries of music as a "visual art" and the moods and impressions that async provides are incredible.

49. Hotel Neon - Context (Fluid Audio)

The Philadelphia-based trio have created here an incredible sea of sonic texture that you immediately immerse yourself in and float. All the song titles are reflective of either the times they seem to have been made perhaps (early am) or perhaps reflect Hotel Neon's desire to describe the feeling and headspace you would be in at those times, either dreaming, in hypnogogic states, or walking in the early hours of a cold morning with streetlight radiating and filling up the streets with soft orange light. There are no beats to Context just various realms of foggy and dense sound to step into.

50. Federico Durand - La Niña Junco (12K)

Hailing from Argentina Federico Durand set a very strict limit for his wonderful sophomore collection of songs that speak of the small objects in life and our memory of those precious moments that the objects take us to. There's a nostalgic sentiment to the weathered and dusty keepsakes from our younger times that make us smile when we consider them. So it is with Durand's improvised compositions here. The album was recorded in just one take, over a series of two days, using only Durand's aged and well worn Crumar Performer synthesizer and some loop pedals. The economy of instruments mirrors the economy of sounds but despite the feeling of "small" there is a lot of emotion and reflection to the songs on La Niña Junco. The melodies and pulses are minimal but the effect is intriguing. I feel like he's a bit of an Alexander Calder of electronic music here, creating simple but beautiful mobiles of fragile pieces, not of twisted bits of wire, but of quiet simple notes. Like Calder the motion of the parts is tranquil and effortless but incredibly reflective and beautiful. So much from so little.

#nifty50of2017 #stevenvenn #bestof2017

[thesinglesjukebox]

ROMEO SANTOS - HÈROE FAVORITO [6.43] In which we coin our second genre neologism for the day...

Maxwell Cavaseno: Last year, one of my particular obsessions during moments of deep depression was listening to a Michael "5000" Watts Chopped & Screwed remix of "Dile al Amor" by Santos's former group Aventura. The most beguiling aspect of all this solipsistic emo sulking that would get soundtracked was that the song sounded so human and normal in this incarnation, in sharp contrast to the nimble and preternatural life of the original. "Favorito" is a modern Romeo song that sounds just so high and fast that my instincts constantly trick me and make me think the song is pitched up or sped up, that these are parodical attempts at being so sterling and pure in emotion; and maybe that's even the case. But despite being unfamiliar with a lot of bachata, that's what makes Romeo Santos's music so fascinating even when I don't comprehend or maybe enjoy what's going on. Once that jazzy soloing emerges, and Santos comically adlibs "that's that golden touch right there" or that he wants to be "your paladin of love" it just enhances the inhuman brilliance that he's aspiring to sound like. [6]

Alfred Soto: Amazingly, Romeo Santos' voice has gotten higher. The buoyancy of his tenor complements the discreet synth washes and occasional bass slaps, not to mention the daffy superhero lyrics: if this man can be your Spider Man, then we've got a new definition of masculinity. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: Santos channels his inner Timbaland, introducing the bridge solo with "that's that golden touch right there." And he is correct: it's the lightest, most fluid part of an effortlessy light and fluid song. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: The golden-voiced king of bachata comes back to remind us that he's still golden-voiced, and he's still the king. Like the best bachata, this is feather-light and almost painfully romantic. Just try to resist Santos's pull. [8]

Josh Langhoff: The other night Steely Dan came on adult R&B radio and I had to sit in the car a couple extra minutes to process. And now King Romeo, following his guitarists down their gilded fretboards into some blatantly smooth jazz/yacht rock netherworld, is forcing a similar reckoning amid the bangers on Latin pop radio. What do we call this: bachyachta? [6]

Jonathan Bradley: Santos is more beguiling here in those moments he plays fragile, not flirtatious. The former better suits the "Ventura Highway" guitar, which is moisturizer soft and far better accompaniment to this shuffling and tapping rhythm than it is to soft rock. [6]

Will Adams: When the track goes deep, it's lovely; the subtle synth pads in the breakdowns wash over like watercolors, and the jazzy bridge is as intriguing as it is unexpected. Otherwise, "HÈroe Favorito" is a fine showcase for Santos' morning ray vocals and not much else. [6]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Romeo Santos #Héroe Favorito

[loveceleste]

Lost in Inkling; Part I

'I miss you.' 'I miss you too.' 'Are you okay?' 'You already asked that Issa'

Damn, I wish I had a tall, ambitious, white teeth smile, sexy ass man like Lawrence. Dramatic I know, but a man who would love me so much that he changes himself is the one you let pay some light bills and stick around for a while.  There's just no way I'd fuck that up. 

It's the second time I've watched Episode 8 of Insecure. Dressed in my 2011 Destin Beach spray paint T-shirt and black sweat pants, with my trusty wine in my left hand and my laughing stick in the right. I still can't wrap my mind around how she got bored with an idealistic man who always mentions her when speaking of his dreams. Gahhh! Heart Eyes! Okay, its the seventh time I've watched it. Don't judge me, but I get a slight satisfaction knowing there are more lost and single, almost 28 year olds, that fear to be an eternal solitarian who practices faithfulness. Despite the increasing popularity of two-timing. It’s almost like people want to catch the Monkey virus. Either way, I really need to let Insecure go. The show I mean. Well, I need to let go of my own too but after Jermaine, I've been bathing in regret and drying in self-loath. Then I lotion in confidence and dress in 'fuck these niggas', only to go out and witness a known married man all hugged up with some tramp. Then I come home and accept marriage was put on my blueprint for 1962 and I should just adopt 9 dogs, since I attract them anyway.     

                             *ring ring*         

Should I answer? or no? After throwing my phone like Jackie in a third inning last week, I broke my phone screen at an ineffective attempt to calm my rage. Plus, I hate answering calls when I'm not fully prepared. I did get slightly excited since nobody calls my phone but appointment reminders or those 'press 1 if this is Janeice Pothucker'  *1*  'you have missed 7 payments'  *disconnect call*. But It was only my overzealous best friend Quinn.                                                                      

"You okay, Lanie? I haven't heard from you since Tuesday."  She said sounding extremely concerned. "Quinn, its only Wednesday night, you act like you weren't just over here drinking up all my Pinot Nior. You owe me $20 too." I said sternly. "Well you taking to long to call me and I got some 'It was all a dream' juicy news to tell you, bitchhh!" "Bitchhh like Miracle Watts juicy or Deelishous Juicy?" "Nah Nah, darker berry sweet, like Bernice juicy with a little Big Booty Judy cause it's a throw back." "Ahhh I am excited now, Tell me!" "You remember James from Liberty High?" "Afro James or Sling Ding James?" "Lanie, the audacity you have to think I would have any exhilarating announcement involving the likes of Sling Ding Pencil miss holes James!" "Wouldn't put it past you" I said slyly. "Fuck you!"   We laugh for a few moments. "No no. Its the quiet one who came the middle of junior year and played football. Really cute. I had a crush on him until me and Rich got back together and then I caught him with Hoe Lay?" "Ohhhh," I said remembering "He was so sweet and had the cutest smile! What about him?" "Well I ran into him at the mall earlier and we started talking and catching up on missed time or whatever and BOOM, He asked me on a date, a real live date!" "Like a real real live date?" I asked for reassurance. "Yes bitch, We going to Ruth Chris this weekend."                                              I am genuinely happy for Quinn, but it seems like whenever I go through a hard break up, every one around me magically becomes the most un-single, deep in love earthlings ever! Its just not fair. "Lanie, " She said breaking the silence of my deep thought. "Did you hear me? We're going to Ruth Chris! The $60 dollar per person place we would only think of going during tax season. I think I'm going to order a salad so I won't look to greedy, what you think?" "I think if he wants to spend $60 on you let him spend it!" "I knew you would say that you're greedy like me, I'm about to send you a picture of what I picked out to wear." "My screen is on black out, but send it anyway and I'll look at it after I come from the Sprint store tomorrow." "Damn, I forgot. Okay, I'll call you later.” She paused. “And I ain’t paying you shit!” she said laughing right before hanging up the phone. The next morning, I dress for work in my sexy black lawyer pant suit with my "move bitch" pumps to try and redeem myself after looking like a depressed, lament bum this whole week. Despite my attempts to lift my soul out of Desparia, I’ve been cutting people off in mid conversation and hiding in my office all day. Maybe some fresh air will do me good. During my lunch break I head over to Sprint to see about having my phone brought back to life. When I entered the store, they either thought I stole $82 from their wallets or I was the announcement of Beyoncé's twin pregnancy. Either way, even in my shitty mood, I didn't mind the attention. I proceed to the empty front desk so I can add my name to the wait list. I'm sure no one wanted to approach me since I had the 'y'all bitches better not have me waiting to long' look on my face. After a long 67 seconds of standing there riled, this skin smooth, dark chocolate, gym 4 days a week built brother approaches me. I think he was saying something to me. I'm not really sure and he may think I was being rude, but really I was in distress over his full lips slowly rising to display his straight solid white smile.                   "Ma'am are you alright?" I finally closed my slightly opened mouth and shook off the hypnosis. “What can I help you with?” "huh?... oh yes umm.. I need to see about getting my phone fixed. I dropped it and my screen has been black since." Realizing my daydreaming, he let off a half smile. Damn, that half smile was deadly! "Sure thing, Can I get your name?"   "Lanie," I couldn't help but examine his fresh cut and perfect symmetrical face. This may just be me, but its something about a man looking down while I look at the top of his head, reminds me of....never mind.   "hmm, I don't see you in here, have you been to this location before?"   "Oh yeah, try Janeice, Janeice Pothucker." "Found you. Is your phone number 615-364-0741?" "Yes, that's me." He paused for a moment.   "Cool, it looks like we don't have anyone ahead of you for the technician, so follow me to the back and I'll get you all set up with Mike." We walk to the back to the area of the large room where all the techs were sitting behind the glass. For a moment I forgot where I was. It felt like he was leading us to our table, a dinner for two at my favorite live music restaurant, Sambuca. Dim lights and subtle jazz in the background and nothing but an intellectual exchange between us two. Discussions range from Angela Davis quick-witted way out of prison in the 60's to if Tupac really is alive and well in Cuba. The technician advised the phone fix will only take 15 minutes since all of the parts are in store. I stuck around, of course. I walked around looking at the latest phones and gadgets they had laid out for display. The Samsung galaxy s8 plus appealing frame caught my eye, might add to my list of future purchases. As I am going through the phone messages, by nature, I feel a set of eyes gazing at me. I look up to make sure the technician wasn't trying to get my attention, but he was in the back somewhere unseen. I slowly rotate by placing my right foot behind the left and did a ballerina spin. It felt necessary at the moment to slyly look around without making an obvious attempt to scan the room. Somehow in the midst of my spin I sped up and I forgot I had the new s8 in my right hand that was attached to a cord on the counter. The cords elasticity spun me back facing the counter, forcing me to loose my balance. Don't worry, I landed perfectly on the left side of my face. Smooth. I was so embarrassed! I wanted to run out the store like I just got my chain snatched by Debo. Before I could fully open my eyes, Donny Savage look-a-like is gently grabbing my right arm helping me up. Strange, because I could of sworn before my failed pirouette I saw his melanated reflection in the corner of my peripheral on the other side of the room. "Are you alright?" "You like that question. Yes I'm fine, I just lost my balance. Thanks....Solo." Glancing at his name tag. "Well I'm no doctor but it look like you're going to have a nasty knot on your left temple. We've got some ice in the back I can get you some." "No No, I'm fine really, thanks." I said pained as I gathered my purse and a few of my unmentionables that scattered in my fall. "I'm just embarrassed." I mumbled. "No need to be embarrassed, I fell down a flight of stairs just last week." Fuck! He heard me. "I didn't get to witness you fall so it doesn't count." I managed to say with a chuckle. "Do you dance?" He asked. "Huh?" "Dance," He reiterated. "from over there it looked like you were about to hit a nice spin." "You noticed from all the way over there?" His face said it all, I found my star gazer. "Mrs. Pothucker, your phone is ready." yelled the phone technician saving Solo from an explanation. "It's Ms. Pothucker, and thank you." "You're Welcome. Insurance covered everything so you're good to go." "Thank you. Have a nice day." "You as well, Ms. Pothucker." I started for the door. I was still embarrassed from my fall to look Solo's way so I sped up hoping my arms weren't bouncing behind me. "Ms. Pothucker," I turned around recognizing the deep waved, Godly voice. " have a nice day" "You as well, thank you again." He nodded. Fine ass! I hopped in my white Cherokee and scurried back to work with a satisfied smile on my face. Its good to know I wasn't the only one looking.

#short story #lost in inkling #author #poem #short film #books #story #stories #storytelling #storyteller #nashville #tennessee #franklin tn #solo #lanie #insecure #relationship #relationships #single life #the single life #relationship stories