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janeyseymour · 1 month

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The Color Green

Summary: Based off of the Bradley Cooper cold open: Melissa is jealous that the famous movie star is flirting with you.

WC: 1.8k

Written in literally an hour this morning because I couldn't get it out of my head :)

Bradley Cooper is standing in Melissa Schemmenti’s classroom as a literal part of show ’n’ tell because one of her students found him. He found him at the corner store, and decided to bring him in because everybody else saw him and was gathering around. And because the Oscar nominated movie star is a considerate man, especially when it comes to all things Philly, he agreed to come in.

Melissa is absolutely starstruck. She’s always found him to be quite attractive, and she can’t help the little giggles that bubble up through her body.

“I’m just textin’ the other teachers,” the redhead tells him as she taps away on her phone.

“That’s fine,” he chuckles.

The rest of you come filing in to see if the second grade teacher was just pulling your leg or not, but there he is. You gather in the back of the classroom, and you find it quite odd when his eyes land on you. The have a particular sparkle when he looks at you- the one your girlfriend has when she looks at you. It makes your heart flutter.

You all take a picture with him, and he’s very particular that you stand right next to him, despite Melissa being there. She lets you in like the wonderful girlfriend that she is to you, and when the photo is taken, you have two arms around you. One is Melissa’s, of course- the other is Bradley’s.

He claims that he has to leave after that, so you all begin to file out and you head down to your classroom again, but he follows you.

“Hey!” he calls after you. You spin on your heel and look to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hi, Bradley Cooper,” you chuckle. “How can I help you?”

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head. “I could use some help figuring out how to get out of this school. It’s been a while since I’ve had to navigate a hallway like this.” He flashes that charming smile at you, and it has you swooning even though you have no sexual attraction to him at all. Anyone with eyes can say that Bradley Cooper is quite the handsome man.

“Oh, just down the hall to your left,” you tell him with a dopey smile. “None of the alarm systems work, so you can really leave through any door.”

“Thanks,” he tells you, but he doesn’t make any moves to leave. “Uhm, are you doing anything later? Like, after school?”

You look up at those sparkling eyes. “I kind of have a thing later with all of the Abbott crew, but you would be more than welcome to come along! I know the other teachers would be thrilled if you showed up.”

His eyes dull just a little. “Yeah, that would be great actually. Could I get your number so you can text me the details?”

You fire out your number before smiling back up at him. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I really do have to get back to my classroom.”

“Right.” He scratches the back of his head. “Well, it was really nice to meet you…”

“Y/N,” you tell him as you stick out a hand. He shakes it, and then you both head on your way.

During lunch, you get a text from an unknown number. Hey. It’s Brad. Let me know where you guys are planning on going later, and I’ll be there.

“Are we just going to our usual spot?” you ask your girlfriend as you take a bite of your salad.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t we?” Melissa rolls her eyes at you playfully.

You shrug. “Just making sure.” You type out that you’ll be at your usual bar for happy hour, and he quickly responds that he’s looking forward to seeing you again. You leave it at that. There’s no use in flirting with him when you don’t even like men, and you are happily taken by the redhead sitting next to you.

After work, you find yourself sitting in the back of the bar with your crew, and Melissa has her arm draped around you as you both sip on beers. You hear the doorbell ring at the front, and Bradley is making his way over to you when you look up. As he makes his way over, everybody sits up slightly straighter; Melissa retracts her arms from around you.

“Hey guys,” he smiles at you all (but his eyes definitely just linger on you) with an endearing smile. “Mind if I join?”

Of course, you shimmy in closer to Melissa. He orders another round for everyone on him, and your friends are absolutely giggly that he’s sitting with you all.

Despite him showing up ‘for the group’, he only really keeps his attention on you. And you can tell that your girlfriend is starting to get jealous. Still, she maintains her composure because… it would look really bad for a headline to state that a teacher from Abbott Elementary got into a fight with the Bradley Cooper.

After a bit of chatting, he excuses himself to go to the bathroom, and you glance to Melissa. She has a frown written on her face, a stark contrast from the bubbly smile she wore this morning.

“Babe, what’s wrong? I thought you would be thrilled Brad came!”

“You knew he was coming?” she furrows her brow.

“Yeah! He asked me what we were doing after school, and I told him that we were gonna be here and he could join!”

“Y/N,” Melissa closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “He’s flirting with you.”

“No he isn’t,” you roll your eyes.

“Yes he is!” Jacob chimes in.

“It doesn’t even matter,” you tell your group. “I am very happy in my committed relationship to Melissa.”

“He don’t know that though,” your girlfriend grumbles. “N I don’t like that he’s flirting with you.”

“He is not flirting with me!” you laugh nervously. “He’s just being friendly!”

“Friendly my ass,” the redhead mutters. “His eyes are only on you.”

“Babe, I usually like when you wear green, but this shade of green does not look good on you,” you tell her. “Please, just… be nice?”

“I will, but if he makes a move on you, don’t think I won’t come out swinging.”

“I cannot handle another court case,” Ava pipes up. “So don’t go startin’ no fights with pretty boy.”

Bradley makes his way back to the table, and as he sits down next to you, he’s a little closer than he was before. Now aware that he could be potentially flirting with you, you pay more attention. And… okay; he is flirting with you.

The more he flirts, the more you can practically feel the rage radiating off of Melissa. And finally, she’s had enough.

“Hey, Brad?” Melissa bites out. “I’d really appreciate if you’d stop hitting on my girl.”

The man’s eyes go wide. “What?”

“Stop flirting with my girlfriend, or we’s gonna have a problem here,” the redhead says cooly as she drapes her arm around you and pulls you in so close that you’re practically in her lap.

He puts his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, Melissa. I had no idea the two of you were an item.”

“Mel, I told you to play nice,” you laugh out.

“That was before he very blatantly started flirting with you in front of me,” your girlfriend tells you. Then she turns to the actor and grits out, “She’s mine.”

“She’s yours,” Bradley repeats. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be. One more flirty comment, and we’ll take it-”

“Melissa!” Barbara cuts off her work wife.

Melissa just leaves the unsaid in the air, although the Oscar nominee clearly knows where she was going. His flirting with you comes to an abrupt halt, and he directs his attention to the entire group. Your girlfriend keeps her arm around you protectively through the rest of happy hour.

When you all decide it’s probably about time to head out, Bradley picks up the tab like the generous man that he is. He’s met with a chorus of thank you’s.

“Anytime, guys,” he smiles. “Seriously, I did have a nice time. And Melissa and Y/N? I’m sorry if I caused any issues. I never meant to.”

“It’s all good,” you smile at him softly. Melissa just gives him a nod with steely eyes. You bat at her.

“Thanks,” she huffs out.

He heads out, and then the rest of you start to gather your things to head home for the night. You and Melissa walk out hand in hand, ready to start the walk back to your townhouse.

It’s a quiet and peaceful walk, and the entire time you think about how sweet it was that Melissa was willing to fight for you- fight a famous actor at that. You’ve never had anyone fight for you, ever. Usually, if your girlfriend found someone more attractive, you were on the curb before you knew it and left to pick up the broken pieces of your heart by yourself. But Melissa? She had quite literally told off a movie star and was willing to fight to keep you. And it makes you feel special; like for once you’re someone’s first choice.

“Hey,” Melissa says softly as she squeezes your hand and brings you back to the present. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Hm?” you hum. “Oh, just thinking.”

“I know,” she chuckles. “What were you thinking about, amore?”

“How much I love you,” you smile at her and lean in to kiss her cheek.

She grins. “I love you too.”

“I- I’ve never had anyone fight for me the way that you just did,” you admit shyly. “It felt… really good, in a weird way.”

“What do you mean no one’s ever fought for you?”

“I mean…” you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I was always the second choice, but you were about to fight Brad if he made another move on me.”

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I love you?” she states as though it’s the obvious. “He needed to be put in his place.”

“I know, I know,” you sigh. “But even in past relationships, I’ve always been a second choice.”

“Not with me,” Melissa squeezes your hand again. “You’ll always be my first choice. And I’ll fight anyone, even Bradley Cooper, in order to keep you.”

You walk up the steps to your house and unlock the door. She opens it and lets you head in first. When the door is closed, you have her pressed up against it.

“I know I said I didn’t like this shade of green on you,” you kiss her hungrily. “But that was a lie. Jealous Melissa… she’s really fucking hot.”

Tags (and lmk if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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blues824 · 4 months

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:) ☆I'm backkkkkkkk☆ I cried

I found this photo of our knight kin in my gallery, do with it as you want toooooo!!!! 🥺🤩🤗 Tehehe

He's sooeo sweet hereeehxuhdh Ahahahhahahah

🏃‍♂️ my simp is showing—

I requested: Making Snowmen + Hot chocolate for the cold

A sequel to this fic that I wrote for Sebek. Turns angsty lol.

Sebek Zigvolt

Because he had the entire weekend off, due to you seeking the help of both Lilia and Malleus when your relationship was on the rocks. Saturday came around, and he had fallen asleep and accidentally stayed the night. He was freaking out, worrying that his Housewarden was going to be angry, but you showed him a text from the Vice Housewarden, that said he was given permission to stay over at Ramshackle for the weekend he had off.

That being said, you told him that you were going back into the snow today, and he let out a groan of annoyance. You should know by now that he preferred humid and warm climates, which is why he loved the Botanical Gardens.

But, this was your payback, as he had spent weeks ignoring you and choosing his schoolwork as well as the Prince over you. That last sentiment was understandable, as that was the code of a knight, but the former statement really hurt. It was like he would prioritize anything over you, and while you first excused it as him adjusting to being romantically involved with someone, it got to a point where you were done.

Anyway, you opened the front door, and a rush of cool air burst into the corridor. You heard Sebek shiver, despite being wrapped in many different layers. Grim was also shivering, but he had claimed that he only needed his scarf and gloves to keep warm. You called his bluff, but he stuck to his guns.

When Sebek had finally joined you outside, you immediately shouted, “LET’S BUILD A SNOWMAN!”

You managed to spook him with the sudden outburst, but he immediately started making a plan. He was going to make the base, as he would be able to roll it to the designated spot you made. You would get its midsection, and he would help you lift it up. Then, Grim would make the head out of snow.

And so you all split up. You had to head inside to grab a spare scarf as well as a carrot and buttons, and then you placed them on the ground at said spot. Then you started getting the snowball for the torso.

It didn’t take too long for Sebek to finish, nor did it take long for Grim, but the difference was that Grim found himself rolling as a snowball with the snowball. He was rolling down the hill, and he suddenly hit a rock hidden in the snow, and he was launched into the air. It’s not like he could aim away from you, so he ended up landing on top of you.

With a loud oomph, you landed on the ground, and your boyfriend rushed over to make sure that you were okay. It turns out that you were laughing as you, through giggles, asked if the cat monster was okay. The crocodile half-fae helped you up, checking over you to make sure that you didn’t sustain any serious injuries, and you just continued to make the torso of the snowman.

Eventually, you and Grim rolled your parts to Sebek’s part, and he helped you lift each part. Grim was insistent on lifting his own, so the knight lifted the cat who, in turn, placed the head on top of the snowman.

Now it was time to decorate it, and you grabbed the scarf and wrapped it around the snowman’s neck. Sebek shoved the carrot in the middle of the head, making it its nose. Grim helped with the buttons, and you smiled at the masterpiece. You turned to see your lover, and the tip of his nose as well as the apples of his cheeks were pink.

Maybe it was time to head inside.

~~~~~~~~

You immediately started making some hot chocolate. You didn’t realize how cold you actually were because of how much fun you were having, but you couldn’t feel your fingers or toes. It felt like a Herculean effort to just blink. The aroma of the sweet ingredients wafted through the air, making the dorm smell amazing.

“I’m sorry…” That was a first. You turned to see the man who you’ve called your ‘knight in shining armor’, looking ashamed and guilty.

“For what, Seb?”

“For neglecting you, and that is the best way to say it so don’t say differently. You had to go to Waka-sama and Lilia-sama for Seven’s sakes because I was prioritizing my work over you,” He was getting a bit worked up, angry about his own failure.

“Just admitting your fault is enough-”

“No, it is not. I hurt you, which is detestable for a knight! What can I do to make it up to you?”

A moment passed of him being close to tears, and you had to hold in your laughter. But, you can’t really be blamed. For the longest time, the First Year who was now on his knees, begging for a way to get you to forgive him, had called you a ‘human’ in such a disgusted tone. Maybe the significant other effect is real?

The hot cocoa was finished, and you poured it into two mugs from the pot you made it in. Your smile dropped, a sombre expression appearing on your face in its place.

“Do you have time to have a cup of hot chocolate with me?” You asked, voice very close to breaking. You had to use both hands to steady the mug as you extended it towards him, and his eyes were surprisingly glassy.

“More than enough,” He responded, taking a sip of the sweet drink.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #sebek #twst sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek x reader #twst angst #twst x reader angst #twisted wonderland angst

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ceijoh · 2 years

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WHO SPITS IN YOUR MOUTH VS WHO GETS YOU TO SPIT IN THEIR MOUTH

relationship: m!character x f!reader

contents/warnings:18+, spit kink (duh), degradation, impact play, choking, boys being mean :( (but it’s okay because they do it out of love and you’re horny) begging

word count: 1057

masterlist

who spits in your mouth as a way of dominance.

hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly that make you want to claw at his hand to remove it but there’s also a major part of you that wants him to just do it harder. his hand, wet, courtesy of the combination of your spit and his cum.

“you’re a fucking slut, aren’t you?” his words were the complete opposite to the tenderness that were in his eyes. rubbing the point of his nose down against the column of your neck, nipping at various points. “my fuckin’ slut,” at the end of his sentence he squeezed your neck, earning a loud whimper from you.

pulling away from you, he removed his hands from your neck, admiring the marks he left on you. “so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured under his breath. he could feel his cock twitch as his eyes roamed your body, taking in every delicious curve.

his eyes zeroed in on your pussy, without hesitation he smacked it harshly, earning a loud whimper from you. narrowing his eyes at your actions, “shut up, this is mine,” cupping your cunt in his hand, all you could do was watch him with wide eyes. “i can do whatever the fuck i want.” moving forward as he hovered you, “open,” he demanded.

slowly he puckered his lips, gathering a good amount of saliva in his mouth. squeezing your cheeks harshly, he forced them open. “tongue,” sticking your tongue out like the good little bitch you are, he smiled fondly. “don’t even fucking think about swallowing.” patting your cheek condescendingly, watching as you struggled with your tongue out.

reaching around behind him, he grabbed his phone, quickly taking a photo of you, he looked down as he admired the picture. turning it around to show you, “look at how beautiful my baby is,” and you sure were a sight. eyes watery, tears streaming down your face, cheeks flushed, you could see just how wet your face was. your tongue sticking out like a good obedient girl, you were beautiful.

tossing his phone down on the floor, he gently cupped your face as he leaned down. “so fuckin’ beautiful.”

haikyuu: akaashi, meian, iwaizumi, tsukishima, kuroo, kentaro, sakusa, daichi, ukai jr, matsukawa, futakuchi, osamu

jujutsu kaisen: toji, suguru, sukuna, naoya, nanami, hitoshi

my hero academia: endeavor, dabi

attack on titan: levi, eren, zeke

demon slayer: muzan, gyutaro, uzui, sanemi

who spits in your mouth as a way to bond with you. majority of the time it’s sexual, his hand wrapped around your throat. similar to who spits in your mouth as a way of dominance but it’s more out of love than anything. there’s actually a sixth love language; spitting into the mouth of the person you’re in love with -how romantic.

now it was a way of being close with you in a way that hugging you, or even kissing you was not on par with it. it was romantic but sexual, sexual but it didn’t mean he was buried in your guts way. it’s his way of bonding with you he claims, in reality he just wants you to be everywhere.

nuzzling into your neck, you gently wrapped your arms around his neck.

“open, please,” he whined as you felt him rub against you. nodding once you began unzipping your trousers, stopping you with a hand, he began to shake his head. understanding what he meant, you gently brought up his face so you could look at him and slowly opened your mouth.

“pretty,” was the only thing he said, his eyes roaming over your face. stroking the apples of your cheeks, he slowly leant down and watched as his spit landed on your tongue. humming at the sensation, you watched as he puckered up his lips again. this time he didn’t have much grace or aim, his spit instead landing on your chin.

moaning out his name, you pulled his head closer to your face, “babe,”

“i got you,” running his hand down your face, “so pretty, i love you so much.”

licking from the base of your neck, you felt him clean your combined spit, at that thought you whined out, “no, want,” pushing him away.

smiling down at you, he preened at your behaviour. “don’t worry sweet girl,” he cooed, kissing you softly once. wetting his mouth, he let the saliva sit on his tongue. admiring you once more, he moved forward finally attaching his lips to yours. opening his mouth, he let the spit dribble down both of your chins. feeling your body move with his, he tightened his hands on your waist.

you pushed your tongue against his, mixing your spit with his.it was wet and it was messy but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

haikyuu: ushijima, matsukawa, atsumu, tendou, aone, bokuto, hanamaki, oikawa, yamaguchi, kuroo, kenma, kita, terushima, akiteru, hinata

jujutsu kaisen: itadori, gojo, nanami, choso, noritoshi, hiromi

my hero academia: izuku, shouto, mirio

attack on titan: erwin, reiner, armin

demon slayer: douma, tomioka, rengoku

who spits in your mouth as a way of dominance pt 2…but here’s the twist. they actually want you to spit in their mouth, mark him as yours inside and out. will become so needy and whiny, pawing at you, begging you, will just do about anything for you to pucker up your pretty lips and slowly allow the spit from your mouth to dribble into his awaiting eager ones.

“god baby,” moaning into your mouth. “c’mon,” he whispered needily against your mouth, “please, baby. just wanna, just needya.”

you felt his hands groping your hips, trying to find purchase anywhere he can. nipping your lips, his head fell back to the pillows, his beautiful face peering up at you.

“what do you want, baby?” clenching your pussy against his cock, you watched as his eyes fluttered shut. “c’mon, tell me.” getting up on your knees, you felt his cock slide out, watching as he tried so heavily to focus on you. dropping down quickly, you circled your hips, moans coming out from both of your mouths.

“want you to spit in my mouth, please,” hands moving to your chest you felt him circle and tug your nipples. “want you inside of me, want you to mark me.”

you smiled at him, grabbing both of his hands with yours, you guided them towards your ass which he quickly squeezed as soon as his hands were around it.

it was his elixir, his kryptonite, as he watched you pucker your beautiful lips. watching as the spit exit your mouth and drop down to his awaiting mouth, groaning as soon as it hit contact with his tongue. rolling your essence around his mouth, enjoying and relishing in the taste that was just you, he slowly swallowed.

“more, please.”

haikyuu: atsumu, oikawa, bokuto, kageyama, semi

jujutsu kaisen: gojo, itadori, noritoshi, chosho

my hero academia: hawks, shigaraki, bakugo, shouta, izuku

attack on titan: reiner, levi

demon slayer: rengoku, gyutaro

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mauesartetc · 8 months

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I've observed that some HB fans with trauma feel so attached to the characters and the show that they defend every writing decision and take any criticism as a personal attack. I can understand relating to and feeling sympathy for a character because of personal experiences, but Helluva Boss is a terrible media for emotionally vulnerable teenagers and young adults to uncritically consume.

It just pisses me off that so many people will praise HB for representing abuse with Stolas and Stella, yet ignore the unhealthy relationship dynamics, abusive behaviors portrayed in a positive light and bad writing in general.

Real talk: Speaking as an emotional abuse survivor myself, it pisses me off to no end that Helluva Boss has failed to represent this subject with any sensitivity or subtlety.

It's important to remember that abusers are often charming and charismatic, and they exhibit positive traits (at least early on) that make the other person want to salvage the relationship.

What the hell are Stella's positive traits? In what little screentime she's had thus far, she's been elitist, rude, destructive, pouty, murderous, sadistic, and a little stupid (failing to consider that if Stolas died, Octavia would inherit all his wealth and leave her with nothing). While there's evidence to support the claim that she acted like she was in love early on in her marriage (she's smiling in the Loo Loo Land photo, sleeps in the same bed as Stolas in a flashback and has stated she used to pretend to want to fuck him), there's nothing to suggest her personality was ever anything but odious. Even when Stolas first sees her photo as a child, it portrays an awful little brat.

It's pretty clear Stolas has never had any reason to love her, so why does he stay?

He says it's because he wants Octavia to have "a normal life", aka a two-parent household. But how exactly does that benefit her when those parents are constantly fighting? You might think "Well, that's a lot of parents' excuse for not getting divorced, but that doesn't mean it's right", but the show never challenges his stance on this. There's never a moment when he realizes, "Oh shit, maybe my definition of 'normal' is actually hurting my daughter". He only declares he wants a divorce after his first tryst with Blitzo and on the balcony when he tells Stella he "can't do this anymore". He's doing it entirely for his benefit, not because it would improve Octavia's life.

(And because the writers blatantly favor Stolas and everything he says, I have to wonder if they actually believe the standard nuclear family represents a "normal"- implied in this case to be good and desirable - life by default, regardless of how miserable everyone in the family is. On the off-chance that is indeed the case, as someone who lost a parent at a young age: Fuck all the way off with that, show.)

Also, we're not lead to believe divorce was never an option at any point. If a royal in this world gets divorced, what are the consequences? Would Stolas lose his title? Would he be executed? The whole point of this marriage was to have a kid, so literally what was stopping them from splitting up after she was born (other than the bullshit "normal life" excuse)? Why can't Stolas just visit Octavia? Why does he have to live with her? Plenty of kids with divorced parents still get quality time with both of them. The solution was right there all along, but Stolas felt the need to wait until his daughter was seventeen to split with his wife? For some reason?? The writers try to pass it off as some noble sacrifice he's making, but in reality, he's just being a dumbass.

Okay, so maybe he's just afraid to leave, like many abused people are. I'll have to call bullshit on that, since he never even tried to keep his affair a secret. He's openly flirted with Blitzo in public (at Loo Loo Land and the Harvest Moon Festival, in front of dozens of witnesses) and met Blitzo at a couples-only nightclub, where they sat in plain view of everyone else there. Couldn't even bother using your powers to disguise yourself, bud? Or does that only work when it's convenient to the plot? If Stolas were the least bit threatened by Stella or what the Goetia family would think, he wouldn't be this bloody obvious. While it's possible this is a self-sabotage sort of thing, the show has never given us evidence that Stolas has those kinds of tendencies.

In short, Stella's a hamfisted, stereotypical portrayal of an abuser, and Stolas just doesn't come off like the abuse affects him at all (or at least not until the episode where it needs to for plot reasons). Obviously not all abusers or abuse survivors in real life will fit into the same mold, but there's straight-up zero logic to these characters' behavior. I've mentioned this very astute video before, but here's one quote that perfectly sums up how poorly this show handles character motivations:

There's a... character consistency issue that results from having these characters exist only to dispense abuse. Their actions stop adding up... [Stella's] thing is that she wants to be away from Stolas... Why does she repeatedly show up to the house just when Stolas is around to torment him? This behavior is quite strange. She does not like him. She does not want to be around him... We're to assume that Stella wants to feel mad, wants to feel bad, and that's what she wants to do with her life.

This isn't how real people act. And of course fictional characters aren't real people and any sense of agency they have is just an illusion at the end of the day. But ideally they should feel real to the audience.

I now fully understand why I was leery of these writers potentially exploring a character's addiction. It's because they've shown they can't be trusted to give serious subject matter the care and weight it deserves.

#helluva boss #helluva critical #writing #helluva stolas #helluva stella #ask #chinesegal

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whentherewerebicycles · 6 months

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ugh I am really struggling with a thing with a former student/mentee of mine. in the week or two of the post-hamas attack aftermath I posted something on instagram that was basically like, i feel an obligation to be an informed global citizen and believe me I read/think about/despair over the news every day but I also think it’s ok to really viscerally hate “doing politics” on social media, where complex, centuries-old geopolitical and cultural conflicts get reduced to a sensationalized infographic some teenager designed on canva last night. at the time I was watching people spread rampant misinformation about the hospital explosion when we had zero conclusive information, and had also just heard jon favreau talking about research indicating that something like 80% of the images and videos people were sharing on social media weren’t actually FROM the current conflict or couldn’t be verified as real. and idk I also have some private thoughts about how american leftists in particular really glom onto this issue because we perceive israelis as ‘white people’ and palestinians as people of color and we get to feel like we are exorcising our own country’s racial demons by advocating for the expulsion of the israeli people from land that many of them actually have deep historical ties to and at least a semi-legitimate cultural and religious claim to inhabiting.

to be clear I think the current israeli government is pretty much your trump-inspired shitty/evil right-wing militaristic populist movement and I feel like their response has squandered every single ounce of empathy garnered by the hamas attacks!! but idk I guess what I want to carve out space for is like, the right to say I AM NOT AN EXPERT HERE. I DO NOT HAVE DEEP ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE TO FULLY UNDERSTAND THE ROOTS OF THIS CONFLICT. I WORRY ABOUT SPREADING DANGEROUS MISINFORMATION IN BOTH DIRECTIONS IF I SHARE UNVERIFIED SOURCES OR REDUCTIVE TAKES. ALSO I AM A PRIVATE CITIZEN AND I DO NOT HAVE A “PLATFORM” JUST BECAUSE I HAVE A SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNT. I RESERVE THE RIGHT TO BE CONFUSED, TO NOT PASS SNAP JUDGMENTS ON RAPIDLY EVOLVING INTERNATIONAL INCIDENTS, AND TO ENGAGE IN POLITICS BY MEANS OTHER THAN SOCIAL MEDIA POSTING. but idk this former student, who I had a really good relationship with for many years, has just come after me in my DMs and keeps sending me posts implying that anyone who is not furiously posting right now is pro-Palestinian genocide, etc etc, and meanwhile she is posting hundreds of unverified stories a day from Arabic-language sources that aren’t just like, anti-Zionist but are actively pro-Hamas, actively denying that the attacks on Israel happened, and actively calling for the immediate and violent expulsion of all Jews from the area. dude idk she’s not my student anymore so I think I’m just going to disengage/not respond and continue staying off insta because it sucks out there!! but it sucks!

I also just refuse to experience a war via unfiltered social media posts again. I did that for a month or two at the start of the ukraine invasion and I can’t unsee some of the stuff I saw on telegram. I don’t actually think any of us have a moral obligation to watch or share a 24/7 feed of graphic images of maimed corpses and crying children. I can’t make the violence STOP by watching that content and I also don’t believe that ravenously consuming the most terrible moments of people’s lives is a form of meaningful political solidarity. WHATEVER as you can see I still feel super conflicted about how to feel about all of this but I also have to remind myself that IT’S NOT NORMAL to click through my stories or scroll down my feed alternating between liking people’s cat photos and watching people dying half a world away. we were NOT BUILT to process world-historical events this way and it is OKAY to opt out of watching a livestream of human suffering you are personally powerless to do anything about.

#I think it is fine to post a lot about an issue you are passionate about! she is clearly passionate about this!#but I hate that the active-posting crowd often acts like people who don’t do exactly the same thing are evil complicit or indifferent #I am so distressed about the state of the world right now!!!!#but I just don’t want to do politics like that it makes me feel so much worse and often makes me feel more powerless

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ben243s-transformation-stories · 11 days

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A harmless prank

Ah, you’ve got to love our educational system. School was canceled because of a teachers strike. They claimed they were striking for better pay, or training or some other such nonsense that was supposed to make out lives as students better. Of course, most of the time actually being in school and learning would have been better than sitting around at home goofing off. But it’s all for the kids. Yeah right.

So anyway, I had nothing better to do with my day than hang out with my friends and get into mischief. Everyone should know it’s never a good idea to leave teenagers unattended for long periods, but my parents didn’t have the luxury of taking off every time the teachers decided to go out on strike

I had just spent the morning with my friends, and was feeling kind of amped up and was in the mood to see what kinds of things I could get away with.

The area of town I lived in was fairly quiet and rural. There weren’t really any good places to go, or even a mall to hang out in, so I found myself lying on my bed tossing a ball in the air while i tried to come up with some kind of plan.

I was never one to get into too much trouble, and generally stuck to the rules. Today, though, something must have been in the air because I was especially restless and ready to see how far I could push my luck.

I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I decided to have a little fun online and started searching for interesting websites. I scrolled for nearly half an hour before one finally caught my eye.

I’m not entirely sure what drew me to it, but I landed on my city’s government website. I had never really had cause to browse it before, and I was amazed by how many options it had, and the array of things that you could do totally online. Most would have taken the full day to do in person, but could be completed in minuets on the new site.

I couldn’t help but be amazed as I scrolled through the options. I stared to get a seed of an idea forming in my head. I should pick something and fill out the form and see what I could get to happen. At the very least I would waste some bureaucrats time, At best I could maybe cause some huge scene with the police or fire department. A grin spread across my face.

I browsed the site for a while longer, but nothing really met my requirements for my masterplan to cause havoc. Most of the options were fairly mundane and boring. Nothing worthy of my time. Except………

I clicked on the link for their new online pet registration page. Something felt right. This was the page I had been looking for. I decided to set my plan into action, Granted it wasn’t well thought out, but hey what do you expect from a bored 14 year old boy?

I brought up and read through the forms. Nothing too complicated just basic details. it looked straight forward enough. I started entering my real details in the fields, age, height, weight, etc. I even listing my parents as my owners, and uploaded my recent school photo. Under species I checked canine, and chose yellow lab for breed. I decided to list my name as the nickname my parents used for me “Sammy”.

I looked over the completed form and smiled. No way they would accept it, and at least it would waste some poor bureaucrats time reading and deleting it. Oh boy, I am such a reprobate now.

Satisfied that I had done something awesome, I clicked submit. A few seconds later I got an email confirmation that the form had been received. I waited a while to see if I would get some error notice, but nothing came. Oh well, maybe they have a lot of submissions to go through.

I gave up and decided to boot up my playstation and catch up on my games. Before I knew it it was time for dinner. After a good meal and little conversation with my parents I headed to my room to watch tv. Before I knew it, I was drifting off and decided to head to bed.

I forgot all about the form until about a week later. My mom had grabbed the mail and brought it into the dining room to read. I noticed the envelope for the one she was reading was from the city, but I didn’t think anything of it until she looked over at me.

“Samuel Benjamin Waldorf?!?!?! What have you done?” She asked me. You know you’re in trouble when they use your full name. I gave her a quizzical look, not exactly sure what she was talking about.

She turned to my father and started to read the letter out loud. “Thank you for submitting your registration for your dog “Sammy”. It has been approved and ….” She read on for some time and rattled of a bunch of legal jargon I had no hope of understanding. The bottom line was that I was now fully registered and classified as a dog in their system.

And to make matters worse,The letter said my “owners” had Just 72 hours to get me the required vaccines and license or there would be fines and penalties. My parents spent a number of those 72 hours yelling at me for being stupid, and how could I do something like that, all the typical parental things.

Once they had calmed down, they found a customer service number, and celled. The person they talked to tried to be patient and polite with them, but had to keep telling my parents that all registrations were final. Defeated my parents discussed what they should do next.

Since the deadline was looming, and there didn’t seem to be any way to resolve the issue quickly, they decided that I should comply with the mandate.

My mom called the vet, and explained what had happened. After a fairly awkward conversation, on both sides I’m sure, I had an appointment for an exam and shots in the morning. I always hated going to the real doctor, and this wasn’t anymore appealing to me. I tried to get some rest, but I kept tossing and turning.

I must have fallen asleep for at least a few hours, because my mom came into my room, shaking me to wake me up and make sure I was ready in time for the appointment. I was still half in a daze, but I managed to throw some clothes on and make it to the car.

My mom drove me to the vet hospital, which we hadn’t been to since our last cat passed away a few years ago. We went inside, and mom told me to grab a seat while she checked me it.

Mom talked to the receptionist, pointed at me a few times, and was given a clipboard with a stack of forms to fill out. She brought them over to where I was sitting, and sat in the chair next to me.

It seemed like it took her hours to fill out the forms. Every once in a while she would ask me for some detail or other she needed for the form. While she worked I idly look around the office. It hadn’t changed much from the last time we had been here.

When she was finally done, mom took the forms back to the desk and we were led back to an exam room. I was told to disrobe and sit on the examining table. I looked at my mother, and she gave me that look that every kid knows means “don’t you dare argue- just do it.” So i quickly stripped out of my clothes and sat on the table. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything as cold as that exam table in my life.

A few minuets later, the vet came in a greeted us. He looked at me as said “this must be Sammy.” The vet spent a few minuets looking over the forms and talking to my mother. it felt a little strange to have my medical history talked about like I wasn’t in the room, but I guess that was standard practice for a Vet. Most of their patients didn’t talk back.

It wasn’t long before he stared the exam. He poked me and prodded me all over. He examined my ears, eyes, and mouth. I tried to keep my privates covered and maintain some modesty, but it was no use. He drew several vials of blood for tests, and even used a rectal thermometer to get a temperature. I never felt so humiliated in all my life.

Remember when I said the table was the coldest thing I’d ever felt? Well it was nothing compared to the stethoscope. He most have kept that thing in a liquid nitrogen freezer. I drew in a sharp breath when he put it on my skin and could barely handle it while he listened to my breathing and heart beat. He even reached down and palpated my testicles.

When he was done, he told my mother everything looked good, and he would let her know when the blood work came back. He, jokingly i hoped, suggested neutering me.

He then proceeded to fill several large syringes full of various vaccines. When he was done, my mother, worrying about me as she always does, asked the vet to include a microchip. I never liked needles and almost fainted at the sight of them.

Luckily the Vet was skilled, and I barely noticed as he plunged each one into my skin and injected the liquid. The vet grabbed the microchip and inserted it under my skin between my shoulder blades.

The Vet filled in all the forms and gave them to his tech, who took them to be entered into the computer. He told my mom we could head up front in a few minuets and his receptionist would have the proof of vaccinations and microchip forms ready for us. She thanked him, and he left so I could get dressed.

When we got to the front, everything was ready for us. My mom paid the bill and received a stack of forms i would need for my license. They event threw in a puppy kit with some food, treats and other essentials for me.

Mom took me back to the car, and had me sit in the back. Something I hadn’t done since i was little. She said it was where dogs belonged.I was still sore and embarrassed by the whole thing, so I didn’t feel like arguing. I hopped into the back seat and just enjoyed the ride home.

Once we got home, I gave my parents the passwords and login I had used on the city website, and they sat down to submit the forms and paperwork to get my license. I will give the site this, it may have its flaws, but it sure made the process easy. It only took them about 15 minuets to get everything entered.

They were even able to print out a temporary confirmation until the official form and tags arrived.

I was now officially licensed and registered as my parents pet dog. I thought the worst of my problems were over. Even if we couldn’t get the registration reversed, what harm could it do? Just renew the license every few years, and i would be good right?

It turns out it could do a lot of harm. What had started out as a joke was having serious consequences. My dad had gotten a call from the school district while I was at the vet. They informed it that since I was no longer classified as a human, I was not eligible to be enrolled in school.

Apparently my registration had spread through the other databases connected to the city system. Now all of my official records, even my birth certificate listed me as a canine. Not only was I licensed and registered as a dog, I was legally classified as one as well.

We sat around the table and had lunch, then my parents sent me to my room while they had a little “talk”. We all know what that means. I was in some serious trouble. I sat in my room trying to overhear what they were saying, but it was no use.

They talked for quite a while before I heard one of them leave. I glanced out my window and saw Mom heading to her car. I wondered where she might be going. I didn’t want to make my Dad angry, so I sat on my bed and watched tv until he called me down.

“Sammy”, he said, “Seems like you have gotten yourself into quite a predicament. Since you seem to want to be a dog, and now thanks to your little prank, you are one legally, your mother and I have decided that your role in the family should shift to that of the family pet.”

I couldn’t believe what i was hearing. Did he actually expect me to live as a dog? Sure I was one. legally, for now anyway. We could have that fixed right? this seemed a little extreme.

I took a look at my father. Every kid knows when it’s not worth arguing because your just going to lose and make things so much worse for yourself. Begrudgingly I gave in and said “OK, if you think thats best.”

Dad looked pleased and said “Good boy. Now lets get you out of those silly clothes” I started removing my clothes slowly, but Dad came over and pulled them off a little roughly. Then my Mom stepped over carrying a few bags. I recognized them from our local pet store. She pulled out a collar and fastened it around my neck. She then attached an Id tag that read “Sammy” with our address and their names as my owners.

My mom produced a dog bed from the bags and placed it in a corner of the living room. She then pulled out a pair of metal dog bowls, showing me that she had engraved my name on them. She took those into the kitchen and told me I would be fed there as long as I was a dog.

She had also purchased a few other things every dog needs, Some toys, and a variety of flavors of food, along with a few other essentials. I could tell they were serious about this and I would be filing the role of family pet for the foreseeable future.

I spent the next few days getting used to walking on all fours, being naked, using the bathroom outside, and being taken for walks. They even used some youtube videos to help them teach me basic tricks.

I wasn’t allowed to see my friends, play video games, or watch tv. I spent a lot of my time outside exploring the back yard and the little wooded area behind it. I was never one to spend a lot of time outside before, but I was oddly fascinated by every little thing I found.

After about a week, I decided that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. My parents were spending more time with me, and I enjoyed the attention, and much to my surprise I enjoyed being petted. It was certainly better than going to school.

The more time I spent in the role, the more comfortable I became as a dog. I hardly noticed as my thoughts and behaviors started shifting and becoming more dog like. If my parents noticed, they didn’t say anything.

After about a month, I had fully integrated myself into the role of family pet. I was thinking and acting just like another dog most of the time. This role felt so natural to me now and i decided I wanted to remain my parents dog.

One evening I told my parents that they could stop trying to reverse the registration. Little did I know they had given up weeks ago, and had agreed that they were enjoying having me as a dog, and could see how happy it made me. It was settled. I was now permanently the family pet.

My parents packed up all my human belongings and put them into storage, and hey converted my old bedroom into an office. I was kind of sad about that, but I hadn’t been using it. I had been sleeping exclusively on the dog bed in the living room for weeks now.

Over the next few weeks, something amazing happened. I’m not sure how to explain it, but my body started to change. I began to notice my fingernails turning black and getting longer. My fingers started to shorten, and I developed pads on my hands and feet.

I showed my parents what was happening to me, but they didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. They said I was being silly and told me to go play.

The changes made it so much easier for me to walk around on all four. Soon instead of using my knees I was on my hands and feet. Each night I was eager to head to bed so I could see what changes would happen over night.

The next morning I noticed some new changes. I had started to grow in some yellow fuzz over my body, and my ears seemed to be getting longer. My privates changed shape and attached them selves to my stomach in some kind of sheath.

Over the next couple of days, my fur grew in fully to cover my body, and my ears were long enough to flop over, and had moved up a little on my head. Next I noticed a nub of a tail protruding from my spine. My nose also started turning black.

It wasn’t long before I had a full tail that I could swish around when I was happy. I also developed a full muzzle. I caught a glimpse of my self in the mirror, and marveled at how much I looked like a dog. Some of the proportions were wrong, but It was unmistakable. I was becoming the yellow lab I had registered myself as.

One night I tried to sleep but I couldn’t get comfortable. I kept tossing and turning all night, until finally I felt kind of a snap as my ribcage and other bones shifted and made their final changes.

When I awoke in the morning, I made my way to the mirror only to see a fully transformed yellow lab where a human boy had been not that long ago. I stared at my reflection just long enough to watch my eyes fade from blue to brown and the transformation ended.

I was now fully a dog. I was so happy that i raced to find my parents. It wasn’t hard, my new nose was flooding me with all kinds of information. When I walked into the kitchen, my parents stopped what they were doing and looked me up and down. They looked very happy, and said “Good boy, Sammy”

They seemed to think all this was normal, and that I had always been their dog. Hadn’t i though? I was having trouble remembering that i used to be anything other than their pet.

Oh well, it didn’t matter. I was a good boy. I could feel the memories and thoughts of my former life slowly fading away like melting icebergs, but I didn’t care. I knew I was their faithful dog and that was all that was important.

A little later, my former parents attached a leash to my collar and took me for a walk. I loved the explosion of input from my new senses and the feeling of the grass on my feet.

We spent the day playing fetch and going to the dog park. I was loving life. Of course it wasn’t all fun and games. I still had to go to school. Obedience school that is. I was top of the class and learned each new trick quickly.

The other downside is that my former parents decided to neuter me. Oh well. I wasn’t going to be out dating much anyway. And it was for my own good they told me. Sure I believe that one. It wasn’t so bad except for that cone I had to wear. I swear the other dogs were laughing at me.

I never did find out exactly why I transformed, or even why I registered in the first place. Maybe it was the universe trying to fix a mistake. Maybe it was a sinister AI the city has that can somehow manipulate people. Now I’m starting to sound like a conspiracy theory.

Ah well it really doesn’t matter, I am much happier this way than I ever was as a teenage boy, and my parents seem really happy to have me as their pet.

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denimini · 7 months

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I want to ask your honest feeling about JK not posting anything for Jimin. He has a Tiktok Account. He could post a smfp2 or LC dance challenge. He could post a Letter photo on Weverse or write a small post on Weverse.

but he did nothing

A lot of big accounts told us to wait and see. I waited. I saw nothing.

You are the only one seeing things clearly. I really want your take on Jimin's birthday.Jimin showed us the pouch from Jin. He showed us the pancakes from Suga. He showed us the edit from Tae. RM JHope and Tae all posted for Jimin on Instagram. RM came and said Happy Birthday in person.

What happened?

I was one of those people who said, "Let's wait and see how things will play out" when that video first came out. Now, all I have to say can be summarized as "If he wanted to, he fucking would".

Let me elaborate on my thought process:

So far, the rumors about the video died down completely. Most likely, the company took care of the issues, and legal procedures are on their way. No confirmation of the identity of the person. JK said he doesn't have a girlfriend, and he wanted to focus on work for a couple of years. And that's it. Many of us waited for something big to happen in Jikook's land in light of everything, but we basically got nothing. JK is focused on his promotions, JM is doing his things. They see each other, they are on good terms but we haven't seen anything more than that. If they really were together, considering all the noise around the video, one would expect that they, especially JK, would make sure to do something to subtly show where his affections are and Jimin's birthday was the perfect opportunity for it, but alas, nothing again.

This isn't to say JK didn't congratulate him in private. In fact, he for sure did. JM himself said all the members did, but JK didn't post anything. We know JK isn't very consistent with congratulating the members on their birthdays. He had missed many such occasions before, and it isn't a big deal. Not everything should be on social media. Still, for years, he always made an exception for Jimin, and this year, he didn't. Why?

One could also argue that JK probably did something special for JM in private, besides a quick text, but we don't actually know that. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. From Jimin's words in his wlive, I am more inclined to think there were no special plans between the two of them. I'd wager and say each was busy through the day with his own thing, and they didn't even meet, but I could still be wrong. And yes, JK is very busy, but that doesn't really matter. When a person cares, they will find a way, especially for their partner and especially when they live in the same city. Jin did, and he is in the military ffs. And let's not forget, JM once traveled halfway through the world just to spend a few hours with JK on his birthday.

Even if I am wrong and JK actually did something for JM in private, so did all the other members, yet they still congratulated him on social media too, because they know the fans look out for it and expect it. And in the case they still hadn't done it, like with Suga, JM made sure to show what each of them did, so we would know, yet he didn't mention JK at all, other than to say he worries about him. I believe that if they really were together, no matter what, they would have done something on this day together, and we would somehow know of it, just like before in the past. All of that makes me believe there was nothing to tell or show.

All the speculations about private plans and meetings aside, I still I circle back to this question: "If JM was Jungkook's long-term partner, as people claim, would JK really not post anything, when it takes so little time, when he knows people, especially those who believe in them, are waiting for it, especially given the recent rumors about the video?". It would have been the perfect opportunity to showcase his affections for JM to the world. Given everything that recently happened, it's kind of shitty not to take this chance. Would JK be that type of boyfriend? I doubt it.

My conclusion hurts me, but it is the one that makes the most sense to me: Nothing special happened between Jikook on this day, because there is nothing more special between them. Right now, they seem to be just friends, and that's it. They love each other, they care for each other, and they have each other in their thoughts, but they are not together.

I would be more than happy to be wrong and will be the first one to admit it if new information comes up, but I won't be holding my breath.

#jikook #kookmin #jungkook #jimin

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basilone · 5 months

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Every so often, I write things that don't make it further than a groupchat. They're often AU try-outs, characterization processes, the genuine meaning of the term 'spaghetti' when it comes to writing stuff and seeing what sticks. Not everything is publication-proof, but some of this stuff definitely is. And because it's that time, because this AU has been stuck in my brain for months, I'm going to haul a little something out of groupchat confinement. Keywords here being: Speirs as an artist, with my OC Tatiana as his rather unruly muse. I hope you'll enjoy it!

She is the best out of a very bad bunch. That’s what Chuck had claimed, at least, and Ron isn’t about to argue with his friend’s patient but brutal process of vetting models. About three hundred women swiped firmly to the left by photo alone, to be more precise. Ron doesn’t even want to know what happened to the lunch hour meetings that had Chuck rambling out a state-of-education-in-this-country-holy-fuck condemnation that had lasted until well into the early morning hours.

The Russian was all he was going to get.

He’d complained about it, sure. Too blonde, too frail-bodied, had been his initial dismissal, eyeing the very few photos Chuck had provided. He’d wrinkled his nose at the tilt to her chin and the wordless challenge she’d dealt the camera. All the air of a spoiled brat.

Then, however, she’d sauntered into his studio and all his complaints had become personal.

Tatiana soaks up space. He doesn’t know if she does it on purpose, or if it’s just a fact of life that her fur coat lands on his table and her chewing gum gets stuck beneath his best table and her high heels leave a dent in his favorite chair. She doesn’t reach past his shoulder, really, but he’d griped a like Godzilla trampling through Tokyo at Chuck after one particularly trying afternoon when she’d stood in the middle of his studio and had attempted to dictate where all his lights and equipment should go.

She can’t hold still for five minutes, either. If he was a lesser painter, dependent on models sitting utterly still, this would be the real issue. He almost wishes he could throw her out over it anyway, citing some sort of irreconcilable artistic differences that would sound vague even to his ears, but then the sunlight crowns her blonde hair with a halo and he sucks in a breath and bears the offense of her gesturing about politics and stupid Ameeeeericans regardless.

He captures her defiance before he paints anything else. There’s a glitter to her eyes that sparks even more of a challenge than her photos did, brought to life by the fact that she can’t shut up about all of the things he doesn’t care about and proceeds to make all those things his problem by leaving books and folders in the strangest places around his studio. He pulls all her gestures into the art he makes – the crossed arms, the dismissive wave of her hand, the impatient tap of her foot – until it’s all motion and a blur of color that she eyes critically and sneers a need more blue at.

Blue is her favorite color, which he realizes only when he leaves her alone in his studio just so he can stock up on coffee and cigarettes and returns to find her doodling on a stray canvas with nothing but blue paint. He watches her for a time, leaning against the doorway, cataloging her lip bite and the certainty of the brush strokes before he slams the door shut too loudly and proceeds to argue even louder about not helping yourself to other people’s stuff without asking, Tatiana, what are you, five years old? that’s got her raising her brows and tossing his new packs of cigarettes back out the window before she takes her leave.

It’s the last he sees of her for a while, though he finds bits of her everywhere. There’s the ugly unicorn mug she’d snort-laughed over having bought, wedged between his own mugs in the kitchen cabinet, and there’s the glitter-spilling tank top that he’d made her change out of when it had looked like his rug was suddenly bright pink and sparkling. There’s the folder about incarceration rates and discrimination that she’d debated for over an hour without realizing once that he was agreeing with every word she said, tucked away in her copy of Du Maurier’s Rebecca that she’d underlined and annotated in scribbled Russian he only knows is not critique because no hated book could ever be this dog-eared and worn.

He almost tells Chuck he’s going to need a different model, because the two last paintings have yet to be made, but then he turns on the radio to find that Tatiana had switched the channels from rock to classical again. Ron thinks he can paint her blind the minute he hears the waltz she used to hum under her breath whenever she claimed he was being really very stupid, dumbest American I ever met, oxygen thief, like drill sergeant in army, and other insults he had only ever shrugged at.

He paints her from memory, in blue.

She shows up the next morning.

I need money, she says, looking small for once in her life.

To buy ice cream? He asks, just to be that asshole, just to have something to say that isn’t happiness at seeing her. You came back for that?

Yes, she says, waving her hand in such clear dismissal that he almost laughs, of course for ice cream.

He lets her walk back into his life like she’s never been gone. Her high-heeled boots land on his best table as she leans back in his favorite chair, lights a cigarette, and starts to gesture about her friend who’s doing ballet and her brother who’s dating a man they grew up with as if he knows and cares about these people in the same way she does. He tries to listen as she downs three coffees in quick succession, but then her hair comes loose from her braid and her favorite jacket slips down from her shoulder and he’s sketching with charcoal before he good and well realizes that was not a part of their artist-model agreement.

He half-expects her to argue that point, but she never does. All he gets is a my mouth does not do that thing and a pat on his head as though he is now the five-year-old stuck with a mother who could do nothing but make him cry.

There’s nothing soft about her. She does kickboxing, or so she’s told him, and he’s pretty certain some of her fights were the illegal kind if the spider’s web of scars on her side is anything to go by. The one time Chuck and friends had come over when she was just leaving had ended with one panicked look at being handed a baby, as if she hadn’t the faintest clue how one is meant to act around such a small and squalling thing. He’d seen her defenses go all the way up before she’d shoved the child at him and disappeared in a cloud of loud stomping footsteps that hadn’t endeared her to anyone.

There’s nothing soft about the way she always gets in his face when she’s arguing and thinks he’s not listening, or about the way she presses against his arm and invades his space with her gestures. There’s nothing soft about the tilt of her chin when she glares up at him. There’s nothing soft about the way she goes utterly quiet one night, listening to a podcast in Russian that he dares not interrupt because the look on her face is terrible and terrifying in equal measure, and proceeds to sob her heart out in loud and keening wails that almost have her throwing up all over his kitchen table until he makes hushing sounds and sits with her until her nails have left permanent imprints in the palms of his hands.

She’s loud and demanding and tough and he doesn’t realize he paints her in sharp lines and sweeping arches until Chuck eyes his recent works and calls her a cathedral that houses all of your fuck-ups and dreams as though that explains why his insides don’t feel right. Ron can barely meet her eyes in the days that follow.

She’s on his doorstep one evening, teetering in heels, loose-haired and wrapped in a black-and-gold dress he doesn’t want to linger on, and he lets her in despite all his misgivings. Tatiana’s small-voiced in a way he hates, now, because her lower lip wobbles when she says she left her fur coat behind in that fancy restaurant uptown. I don’t know where I go so I come here tumbles past her lips and her eyes meet his almost as though she dares him to turn her away.

You can stay, he says instead, sighing and dropping his paint-stained cloth on the stool beside the too-blue and too-much-of-Tatiana painting that he thinks holds a good deal more than he should express out loud.

The look she shoots him is wondering. Open in a way that scares him, if he’s honest, and maybe that’s what makes him cross the gap between them.

Maybe that’s why he kisses her this time.

She tastes like cherries and mulled wine, warm with something of a bite, and the surprised sound that trembles loose from the back of her throat is almost a cat’s purr. Her mouth is gentle, pliant, welcoming in a way that the rest of her has never been. He almost reels back from the touch but then her tongue runs over his bottom lip and her hands land in his hair and he crashes against her whole. Her back’s against the wall and still she escapes confinement by kicking her heels off mid-kiss and running her bare foot up his leg until he presses up against her hips. She muffles a whimper against his mouth that he almost dares smile at.

Ron, she breathes, when his hand tangles with her hair and his other hand’s skimming past the hem of her dress, and it might be the first time she’s ever said his name and certainly the first time it’s not accompanied by a roll of her eyes.

Tatia, he hums, because she’s been Petrova since Chuck showed him her photos and Tatiana since she walked into his life and Tati Tat Tanya in different stories about different people and Tanusha to the brother he’s never met, and he wants to know her in a way that all these people do not. Tatia, Tatia, he murmurs when his hands slip the straps of her dress of her shoulder and she doesn’t stop him but arches into the touch, come here, hm, let me..

She kisses him to drown out the words. Streaks of blue paint are on her cheeks, on her thigh, in her hair. He’s sure he’ll never eat another cherry without tasting her again.

#ronald speirs #oc: tatiana #ron x tatiana #basilonefic #am I a lil nervous about posting it? yes #but I'm being very brave about it

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blackswallowtailbutterfly · 5 months

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I truly don't know how you can see pictures of men stripped to their underwear, kneeling on the ground, in rows, and not have alarm bells ringing. People really will just go with the mainstream explanation of anything when it's convenient, huh? I saw those photos and my fucking heart rate jumped. Other people see it and apparently are just like Oh! Well, Israel says they're all Hamas, so I guess that's who they are and it's fine. :)

But I have to say--and I try not to do this usually--but it is really disappointing (doesn't quite cover it, but for lack of a better word) coming from women who know what it's like for the mainstream to tell you to ignore what you can clearly see with your own fucking eyes. When we're told that women can be men and say no the fuck they cannot. Where is this energy when the mainstream tells us "Israel's just defending itself from terrorists" when it's clearly a fucking massacre of civilians for an intended land-grab? Their politicians and military leaders have fucking SAID as much!

To be clear, I know it is impossible to be informed about every single atrocity taking place in the world, and I know not everyone not directly involved has been keeping up on and off through the last two decades as I have, and no I don't want people blindly spreading information if they don't know what's true and what isn't. As I said, I have not been keeping up consistently. There are other things closer to home, or which have a direct impact on myself or people I love, such my own country's actions towards the Indigenous peoples here. So I'm not shaming people who don't know and who can't add this issue to the list of things in the world they're spending energy on. It's disappointing to see how much silence there is, but I think impossible to hold any individual responsible or to make assumptions about why any one person hasn't said anything about it. So I'm not going to do that.

But I absolutely am talking about those who see the images, see the videos, see the reports from human rights organizations, see the statements by Israeli officials and still come down on the side of the oppressor. Like, do you not remember how a bunch of us gathered articles and news reports to prove to TRAs that yes, men are a danger to women even when they claim to be women, and how they responded with "cherry-picking!" "no true trans!" even against hundreds of such reports? Or else they justified it as retaliation against "transphobia"? And yet in spite of all this information out there, the idea that men can be women if they say so is fully mainstream. Women's voices are completely ignored. How do you not draw parallels? Because I'll tell you there are plenty to be drawn. These current events in Palestine aren't new. They've been happening since 1948. Which predates the existence of Hamas by several decades, by the way.

I don't understand it. I don't understand how you can do that, and I think the only explanation is racism. Because I don't see how else you could hear about pregnant Palestinian women being stopped at checkpoints and forcibly stripped, about disabled Palestinian women arrested and denied menstrual products and left to bleed in their wheelchairs, about Israeli soldiers using rubber bullets against disabled Palestinians engaging in peaceful protest, about a young American peace activist run over and crushed by a bulldozer as she stood in front of a Palestinian home, about women and girls held in Israeli detention centres where they're sexually harassed and assaulted by Israeli officers, about children as young as eight years old arrested and held for months on the charges of "throwing stones at soldiers", about women dying in childbirth or losing their newborns because of the lack of medical resources thanks to Israeli blockades or cutting the power, about a mother watching her children burn alive in white phosphorus with absolutely no way to stop it, about a woman drugged by an Israeli collaborator, stripped naked while unconscious, and having her photos sent to her religious family, etc.. I don't see how you could know about these things as a self-proclaimed feminist and still think Israel is justified.

It's racism.

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llondonfog · 1 year

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My diasomnia family Valentine's day headcanons 💚

Lilia presents his V-day gifts in the most frilly and gaudy heart-shaped boxes he can find. They sparkle in the sunlight and are covered in a bunch of cute little bat stickers he put on them. When his valentine opens the box, it's completely filled with Dark Matter. They pass out, the sound of his laughter echoing in their ears.

Sebek is only physically capabale of gifting people items that pertain to the young Lord, be it pocket sized photos of malleus, a self-made compilation of stories of malleus's greatest triumphs, or a one-use ticket that permits someone to directly look at malleus for five (5) seconds (the ticket idea was signed off by malleus).

Silver is incredibly thoughtful with his gifts. His father taught him all about how to be a proper prince and he really takes that to heart when it comes to gift giving. He'll pay close attention whenever he talks to his valentine and hone in on any mentions of things they like or desire. His gifts can sometimes turn out to be more practical than romantic (like giving his valentine a new coat because its been getting cold out and he remembered they mentioned not packing a thick enough one when they enrolled at school, rather than giving them chocolate or flowers), but anything he picks out always ends up being just what his valentine wanted.

Malleus presumes that others enjoy the same things he does - that being experiences rather than objects. He will invite his valentine to come visit some old ruins or abandoned locations with him, and he'll happily regale them about the history of the place and tell them all about the peoples who once lived there. He'll even use his teleporation magic and take them to go admire his favorite gargoyles with him. (Yes, he asks them to take photos of him and the gargoyles together).

incoherent blubbering noises about how wholesome these hcs are!!

Lilia — I LOVE THIS AND 100% AGREE!!! Somehow, I feel that Lilia gets more joy than he gives on Valentine's Day from his lovingly handcrafted gifts... He has to keep the youth reminded of the fact that fae can be so devilishly capricious, and irresistibly cute too!

Sebek — NOT THE HAND-WRITTEN AND HOME-STITCHED POCKET REFERENCE BOOK OF MALLEUS' GREATEST QUOTES, that has taken me out!! (Silver is staring at him in utter bewilderment as Sebek hands him his copy with smug exuberance and one slightly crumpled ticket as if the previous owner had a crisis of faith before handing it over to a certain sleepy human; as if your paltry gift of hair gel could even hold a candle to my offerings, Silver!)

Silver — Currently he's a bit miffed that Sebek didn't appreciate the effort that he went through to get him that hair gel; the poor boy was subjected to hours of the finer details of potion-making and hair care from Vil and Azul! BUT THIS IS SO SWEET, MY HEART? The fact that he'd try so hard to stay awake and pay attention to what his loved ones need to make their lives easier aaaaaa Lilia you can claim NO credit about how thoughtful and darling this boy is, we should just be thankful he wasn't ruined by your impudent nature.

Malleus — I WAS CACKLING; not prince malleus having zero social skills and a certain haughty demeanor to assume that looking at stone gargoyles for hours would be the perfect valentine's day experience NEVER CHANGE HIM!! He tried to take his family with him one time; Silver fell asleep on a gargoyle, Sebek was fretting over his every step lest he trip over exposed stone, and Lilia was more amused to see how many crows would land on Silver's shoulders before he woke up. Needless to say, it was only one time.

#lettie's asks #MUMBLE I LOVE YOU????#I HAVE BEEN SAVING THIS ALL WEEK AND LOOKING AT IT WHENEVER WORK GOT ME STRESSED #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #twst lilia #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #twst malleus

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reasonsilovemywife · 2 years

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Remembered I Owe You A Story

My beautiful bride is on her way back from a visit with her sister and mother. This reminds me I need to tell you about the first time we met in person. If you go way back I told the story that we first “met” playing online games and after a what seemed like an eternity, we were finally able to meet in person. It was her birthday weekend, her parents had agreed to watch the kids for a long weekend and I bought her a round trip ticket for her. My biological child was with his mother that weekend, so we had the house to ourselves. The week leading up to her trip, she mentioned she had some chocolate covered espresso beans from Starbucks and they were good. I was trying to find some cool deserts and snacks so I bought a couple boxes and since I had to make sure I liked them to work with the dessert I was whipping up, I opened one box and ate some. They were REALLY good. I ended up eating damn near the whole box. I do not recommend that. I think I gave myself heart palpitations from that one. hahaha As a single dad, I tried to keep the house clean in general, but again, the week leading up to the trip I scrubbed from top to bottom to make sure things were OK. She had mentioned she gets cold when she sleeps, especially her feet. So I folded a thick blanket for the bottom half of the bed and put it under my regular top comforter to make sure her feet didn’t get cold at night. The day of the flight, we talked as she drove to the airport, talked while she was going through the airport to her flight. Then when she boarded the plane I went ahead and left to go to the airport to pick her up. Please note - it takes me just under an hour to get tot he airport The flight is two hours. I left a literal hour early to make sure I got there on time and didn’t miss anything. What if there was a wreck or something? No way I was going to be late. She calls me, says she’s landed and working her way through the airport to baggage claim. The Atlanta Airport has tunnels and mini-subway to move folks from one area to the other so there’s no cell signal (back in the day there, anyway) and so we had to stop talking. At this point, my heart is racing 1,000 miles an hour. What’s taking her so long? She should have come up those escalators by now. Is she OK? Did she get cold feet and turn around? DID SHE GET KIDNAPPED OH MY GOD.... Instead of talking the airport trains, she decided to walk, not realizing the Atlanta Airport is one of the largest in the world -hahahha. But I get a call - “I think I’m here - there’s escalators here” my heart is going to explode at this point. 180 beats per minute, at least. “Yeah,” I say, “That’s it....” And I see her. There’s three escalators coming up here, carrying all the people up and I’m scanning each one back and forth like watching a tennis match. And.... Holy shit. How is she even more beautiful than her pictures? None of the photo’s captured how her hair glowed, how it swayed when she walked. They didn’t adequately show the way her eyes radiated, the way the corners of her mouth turned up when she started to smile, her smooth, lush skin. Then I saw her walk. She had this swagger that just mesmerized me. A swagger that was accented by her big black boots. Her jeans were just tight enough. Her shirt was just low enough with this sheer part that just.... just damn. We walked towards each other, embraced, and had our first kiss right there in the middle of the airport. We were in the way of everyone walking, so I stopped the kiss and moved us over to the side, and kissed again. We walked hand in hand to my truck. She was wearing this big black leather coat because it was super cold in the Appalachian Mountains, but was 60 degrees here in Atlanta. She made me turn the air conditioning on, hahahah. We got home, and I made her my world famous Lemon Pepper Chicken, Ratatouille for a side with twice baked potatoes and for dessert, I made chocolate covered strawberries, kiwi slices, and dark chocolate covered espresso beans - the same beans that gave me heart palpitations earlier in the week. Yes, I forced myself to wait until after dinner before we headed to the bedroom and spent the rest of the evening together.

#wife #love #i love my wife

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ecoamerica · 25 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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not-a-space-alien · 2 years

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All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 6: Clap Your Hands if You Believe

In this chapter: dont talk to strangers on the internet, unless you want to i guess, also shrimp colors

Thanks to my beta readers @appelsiinilight and @static-stars!!! <3

Story Masterpost

On AO3

PS unfortunately my writing will probably be going on hiatus for a little bit because my classes are starting back up this week...and I will have to be spending all my writing juice writing my thesis essay 😅 If you want to make sure you get notified when my active story(ies) come back, make sure to either subscribe on AO3 or ask to be added to the tag list!

Sierra was coming.

Everything was prepared. She’d gotten her plane ticket, and Marcy had the couch folded out so she could have somewhere to sleep. They’d made sure they had food in the house that was to Sierra’s taste, and they had a full agenda of activities to do while she was in town. Marcy had beaten back the endless tide of graduate school tasks requiring her attention to get the whole time off. They were ready for a great trip.

There was just one problem. Thistle still hadn’t told her he wasn’t human.

He’d tried. But she’d responded as though they were still playing make pretend. He’d even sent her a photo, to which she’d responded as though it were an impressive photo manipulation. Did you do this yourself? It’s awesome!

He chickened out after that. Marcy offered to take over and try to find the right words, but Thistle declined. He had to do this himself. It was only proper. He would do it himself, he repeated over and over, as he continued to not do it himself.

“Eeeee, I’m so excited!” Sierra’s voice came out through the tinny phone speaker. “The plane just landed! It’s gonna take me a while to get through the baggage claim and stuff though.”

“Okay!” said Marcy. “We’re just leaving the house now.”

“See you soon!” said Thistle. He hung up and then immediately exploded into terrified trembling, like a neurotic Chihuahua.

Marcy’s hand came over and palmed him, flat against the car seat. “Shhh.”

“What if this is a horrible mistake,” said Thistle’s muffled voice through her fingers.

Marcy lifted her hand, and he immediately popped back up into shape. “Then we’ll deal with it,” she said. “You can’t get anything nice in life without risks. You have to take the good with the bad.”

Thistle nodded, expression hardening. “Right. I’m not nervous at all.”

On the drive to the airport, he continued to climb all over Marcy, anxiously searching for a good place to sit, on her lap, in the crook of her neck, on the dashboard, in Marcy’s jacket pocket.

“All right then, totally not nervous little guy,” she said, removing him from the steering wheel and plunking him down into the cupholder. “Why don’t you just chill out.”

He wrung his hands. The street signs pointing towards the airport pickup started whizzing past in the window. Thistle moaned and popped open the hatch that sealed the compartment in the center console. “I’m–I’m just going to hide. Just a little bit. Just for a little bit.”

“Okay,” said Marcy. “You come out when you’re ready.”

Thistle scrabbled up into the nook, banishing himself among the pens and loose change and discarded, crumpled up papers. He shut it on top of himself.

Marcy pulled over near airport arrivals. There was a young woman, roughly matching Sierra’s description, waiting with a suitcase, neck bent over to examine her phone. Her fingers moved across the screen just as Thistle’s phone in the cupholder dinged with a notification that said I think I see you.

Marcy beeped the horn and rolled the window down, waving enthusiastically. “Hey! Fancy seeing you here!”

Sierra’s face lit up with delight. “Marcy?”

“Sierra?”

Sierra practically skipped over to the car, the trunk popping open cuing her to put her bag in there. She then came up front and clambered into the passenger’s seat. “It’s so great to meet you!”

“You as well!”

Marcy glanced down at the center console. When there was no movement from it, Marcy gently started to open it, but she felt tiny hands shoo her away and then click it back shut.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Fine, then. She pulled away from the curb and started to drive off.

Sierra cleared her throat. “So, um, not that I’m not thrilled to meet you…But I thought Thistle was coming too?” Sierra’s grandmother had warned her to avoid getting kidnapped and murdered while meeting people off the internet, and Sierra was now giving second thought to the previously-disregarded worries.

“We’ll meet him soon,” said Marcy. “Don’t worry.”

Sierra bounced with excitement. “Ooh, I’m so excited–and nervous, but I mean you probably don’t think I have anything to be nervous about, but you know him already, you probably think I’m silly and stupid and–”

Marcy laughed. “I think you’re overthinking things a bit.”

Sierra nodded, biting her lip. “Right. Well, Thistle speaks of you so highly, I’m just afraid he’ll be disappointed if I can’t measure up to you.”

Marcy looked over and saw Sierra wringing her hands. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

“I’m just…” She nervously flapped her hands. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you guys have, I was too nervous to ask but I don’t know if you guys are, like, dating, or I thought maybe he was gay, but the way he talks about you…”

As Sierra trailed off, Marcy stared straight ahead, stunned by the awkward turn the conversation had taken. “Ah…Well that’s a good question, I don’t think he and I are entirely sure, either. But I promise there’s room for more people in his life.”

Sierra twirled her hair. “O…Okay. I…Well, I’ve been meaning to ask, but I was too shy. His name isn’t…isn’t really Thistle, is it? I just assumed that was a name he used online.”

“It’s a normal name where he’s from,” said Marcy. “It’s a translation of his name in his native language.”

Sierra perked up. “Ooh, that’s so cool! He has a pretty thick accent, so obviously I figured he wasn’t from around here, but…I could never tell where he was from?”

“I’m sure he’d love to answer all these questions for you,” said Marcy. “When we meet him.”

This last part was said slower and louder than necessary, with another glance down at the center console. Nothing.

Marcy sighed. “Thistle, please. This is fucking unbearable. Please end my suffering.”

Sierra looked at her wide-eyed. “I don’t get it.”

The center console compartment popped open. Just a crack.

Marcy rolled the car to a stop at a red light. “Come on, bud. You can’t put it off forever.”

“Is he…in the car with us?” Sierra said, puzzled, looking into the back seat.

The lid lifted. Marcy could see he was having a bit of trouble, with his arms trembling, so she helped him out and lifted it up all the way.

“Sierra Mist!” said Thistle, holding his arms out and waving. He’d clearly meant to be enthusiastic, but the crack in his voice betrayed his absolute terror.

Sierra looked down at him, face totally blank, eyes wide. The light turned green, and the car started to roll forward.

Thistle’s eyes darted around the seat, up to Sierra’s face, trembling.

Marcy glanced at the interaction from her peripheral vision. “Well? Say hello.”

Sierra’s mouth moved to form words, but nothing came.

“Please say something!" Thistle said through an agonized smile.

"I… thought you'd be taller?"

Thistle and Marcy exploded into laughter.

"You're real?" said Sierra, tears in her eyes. "You're really real?" She looked up at Marcy. "You're not tricking me somehow?"

"If I was talented enough to fake something like this, I'd be a lot richer than I actually am."

"Can I …. Can I hold him?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

Her shock redoubled, as though she hadn't considered it just because her brain was so thoroughly broken. She cast her eyes down at him. "Can-Can I–may I hold you?"

He nodded enthusiastically.

"Just cup your hands together and hold them in front of him," said Marcy, helpfully providing what she'd discovered to be the most comfortable for him after much trial and error.

Sierra did as instructed. Thistle hopped up into her hands and sat down cross-legged, ears twitching nervously.

She brought her hands up closer to her face. "You…you're the one I've been talking to online?"

He beamed a great big smile. "Why do you think I type so slow? The internet was made for people with much bigger hands!"

Sierra was in tears, overwhelmed. "You're really real?"

He frowned. "Normally I would just say yes, but your persistent disbelief is making me question it myself."

Sierra's face slowly cracked into a smile. "Ha…it really is you…that’s exactly the kind of stupid joke you’d make…"

Thistle giggled.

Sierra slowly lifted her thumb up towards his head. He flinched away, prompting her to stop–it was instinct, but then after a moment, he recovered and steeled his nerves.

The thumb brushed against his hair, rubbing his head. They’d talked about physical contact over the phone….but this was quite different from what she had been picturing. Thistle had been picturing pretty much exactly this, more or less, and had just been worrying about if she could be gentle enough.

She was gentle enough.

***

Colin was cooking when they came home. “Hey!” said Teddy from the living room. “Nice to meetcha!”

“Woah!” Colin came out of the kitchen at top speed, as though he were afraid to miss Sierra. “She’s here! Hah! Hey, what’s up!”

Sierra nervously curled in on herself, wilting under the attention. “H-hey, nice to meet you! You must be Colin and Theodora?”

“Hope you don’t mind I’m sitting on your bed,” said Teddy, patting the folded-out couch. “I was just watching TV.”

“What are you cooking?” said Sierra. “It smells really good!”

“Tacos!” said Colin, beaming. “And it’s almost ready! I figured you’d be hungry after your long flight!”

Sierra expressed the appropriate delight, and Colin went back into the kitchen. Teddy followed a minute later, setting the table.

Thistle crawled out from Sierra’s jacket hood. “It doesn’t smell that great to me,” Thistle mumbled.

��What?” said Sierra.

“It smells like dead meat.”

Marcy plucked Thistle off her shoulder, dangling him in front of the two women in the living room. “That’s because it is dead meat.”

Thistle gave her a sour look, then wiggled out of her hand and landed on the table. “Hey, oh, Sierra! I can finally show you my stuff!”

Sierra bounced excitedly. “Stuff! Stuff!”

Thistle leapt off the table and jogged to his castle. It was still on the living room floor, but it’d been pushed to the side to make room for the couch to fold out. He skipped over to a plastic critter cage next to it. “These are my worms!”

“Worm time!” Sierra chanted.

Marcy knelt and helped Thistle take the lid off the enclosure. Thistle had a wonderful time bringing different worms over to Sierra, telling her their names, because somehow he could keep track of which was which.

“Oooh, and, and–” Thistle darted into his castle, dragging out a mess of paper after him. “These are my art supplies! I was just–just coloring in this drawing before we left!”

He held it up proudly. Marcy took the tiny artwork between two careful fingers. It was a pencil drawing of Thistle sitting on Marcy’s shoulder.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” said Sierra.

Marcy furrowed her brow. “Yeah, it is, but…”

Thistle shuffled his feet. “Oh, but…?”

Marcy pointed to the pixie in the drawing. “This is you, right? Why did you color your wings like that?”

It had to be Thistle; the torn up wing was too on the nose to be someone else. But unlike the iridescent, semi-transparent, whitish color of his actual wings, the one in the drawing had vivid purple wings, with electric blue markings.

Thistle took the drawing, examining it very hard. “Why did I color them like what?”

“Purple and blue?”

Thistle rubbed the back of his head. “Well, I haven’t found a colored pencil yet that has the same color as my wings, so I just used the ones that were closest.”

Marcy cocked her head at him. “Um…” She rifled in his colored pencils, most of which had their tips broken off so he could use them like chalk. She withdrew a silver colored pencil. “You don’t think something like this is closer?”

He looked embarrassed. “What? No! Are you blind? That color is–is–so dull!”

Marcy put the pencil down, then used her finger to gently rub his back. “Thistle, are you…Are you insecure about your wings? That you feel the need to embellish them?”

Thistle recoiled, offended. “What are you talking about?” He tossed his hair over his shoulder, put a hand on his hip, and smirked. “My wings are beautiful, the most beautiful thing in the house.”

Marcy looked at Sierra. “You’re seeing the same thing I am, right? I’m not missing something here?”

Sierra fidgeted awkwardly. “Yeah, Thistle, I have to agree with Marcy on this one. Your wings look much closer to the silver pencil than what you colored.”

Thistle looked aghast. “What?”

“Wait a minute,” said Marcy, gears turning, and then an electric thrill of realization cannonballed into her head. “Can you…Can you see colors we can’t?”

Thistle took a step back, eyebrows raised, shocked at her enthusiasm. “What…what do you mean?”

“Some kinds of animals like bees and butterflies can see ultraviolet wavelengths of light.”

He stared at her, uncomprehending.

“Here–you–you’ve seen a rainbow in the sky before, right?”

He nodded vigorously.

Marcy dumped all his colored pencils out with shaking hands. “Here–draw–draw one for me.”

Thistle did as instructed, running through the whole gamut of ROY G BIV before…

He hemmed and hmmed and looked through the colored pencils. “I, um…There isn’t a good color for this one.”

“Holy shit, Thistle,” said Marcy. “We don’t make colored pencils in that color because we can’t see it.”

He looked up at her, worried. “Oh….you…” He cocked his head. “Can’t see? But–but–but then…” He covered his face and flickered his wings. “Then that means to you, my wings look ugly!”

“No,” said Sierra soothingly. “No, they’re nice! They’re pretty! They’re shiny!”

Thistle huffed. "Well now I have to think about all my outfits again."

He stomped into his little castle, muttering to himself about how humans had the audacity to have eyes that couldn’t even appreciate his wings correctly. The light in the ceiling came on–Teddy had helped him with that, a little bulb powered by a single battery sitting in the corner of the castle. He started unfolding his clothes and dragging handfuls of them out. “What does this one look like to you?”

“It looks green,” said Sierra, examining the shirt. “With a white trim.”

Thistle hurled the shirt to the ground, looking on the verge of an aneurysm. “The trim is not white!”

“Dinner’s ready!” Colin called from the next room, saving them.

Marcy promised they could talk more about it later and grabbed Thistle, carrying the steaming pixie over to the dinner table. She set him down at his setting–the chair next to Marcy remained empty, and on the place setting there was a small table and chair sized for him. On the table was a small fork and spoon–made for dolls, but roughly the right size. He had a cup and plate from a tea party set that matched his hands a little more closely, nice porcelain that was intended to be given only to the most careful of children to play with.

Colin brought out the pot of ground beef and set it next to where Teddy had laid out all the trimmings. Then he laid out a few tortillas that had been painstakingly cut out from full-sized ones, about an inch in diameter, on Thistle’s plate. Thistle clapped. “Thank you!”

Teddy gingerly set a plastic cup of small crickets next to him, suppressing the disgusted crunching of her face. “For your protein.”

“Thank you!” He bounced in his chair.

Sierra took a seat on the other side of Thistle, watching him with adoring fascination.

“Let Thistle pick his toppings first,” said Marcy. “So he’s not scrambling to get some.”

Thistle picked up his plate and eagerly pattered across the table, winding around Teddy’s silverware and past Colin’s cup to get to the chopped olives. He took a few handfuls, then piled them on the plate next to a few shreds of lettuce, a bit of salsa, and the tiniest dab of sour cream.

Plate piled high, Thistle scampered back to his place, and then the humans started serving themselves, taking scoops of things almost as big as Thistle’s entire body.

“Um,” said Sierra nervously, politely waiting to serve herself last. “So–So–Maybe this is–So I don’t know if it’s rude to ask this, but…” She tapped her fingers together. “Um, isn’t fae food, like, like a thing? Is there some special way I should eat?”

The other humans all laughed. “Yeah,” said Teddy, “there is a special way you should eat. You should make sure not to look at him while you’re eating, because you’ll lose your appetite.”

This, of course, prompted Sierra to instinctively glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He was in the process of eviscerating a cricket, which he stopped, blushing, hands still covered with its goupy innards.

“It’s a mixed bag what folktales about fairies are actually accurate,” Marcy said. “That’s what it seems so far, anyway.”

“Oh,” said Sierra. “I guess that makes sense.” She seemed to be hovering in the clouds, mentally, watching Thistle lay cricket legs onto a tortilla. Fusion cuisine. “So…magic isn’t real, then? Or is it?”

Thistle’s hands wavered on his food, movements growing hesitant. After he was silent for a moment, Marcy prompted, “I think Thistle is probably the best one to answer that.”

“Oh, um…” Thistle rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, it’s real.”

Sierra’s eyes lit up. “Oh my gosh! That’s so cool! What all can you do?”

Thistle’s face grew redder and redder, distress growing. “Me? Not–Not–Not all that much, the only thing I can reliably do is fly.”

Sierra looked a little disappointed. “Oh. But that takes magic? But you have wings.”

“They’re small enough that they probably don’t really generate enough lift to carry him by themselves,” Marcy interjected. “Just, you know, by the physics of it. Even though he’s pretty light. People always underestimate how big wings would need to be to achieve flight.”

This was the point at which Marcy noticed Thistle’s increasing mortification. “Ah…” she said, easing back. “Well–you–you’re probably wondering about the mantis wing.”

Sierra perked up. “Oh, yes. Thistle said he’d been in an accident, which you helped him through.”

“Right,” said Marcy.

Ah, now this was safer territory. Thistle stood up straighter. “Right. A mantis bit me and tore most of my wing away. Marcy put this one on to help. It mostly works. I just can’t stay in the air for more than a few seconds. The difference in shape makes it harder to use. And I can’t pull on it too hard.”

“Oh,” said Sierra. “That’s so sad! You can’t use magic to fix it?”

Thistle stiffened. “Um, well, doing that sort of magic is pretty hard…Most people can’t.”

This was the point at which Teddy picked up on Thistle’s discomfort. She cleared her throat. “So, Sierra, tell us more about yourself. What do you do for work? Or are you in school?”

Sierra looked jarred. “Oh, me? Oh yeah, I’m in school.”

“Awesome!” said Colin. “What’s your major?”

Sierra fiddled with a nearby fork. “Um…I actually haven’t picked yet.”

“She’s good at everything,” said Thistle, puffing up. “So that makes it hard to choose.”

“Haha,” said Sierra bashfully. “Well, I get mostly A’s and B’s.”

“That’s great!” said Teddy. “And you don’t have to pick right away.”

“Ahaha,” said Sierra nervously, “well, I mean, I’m graduating next year, so–”

“Girl,” Marcy whispered.

“--I should probably pick soon.”

“Marcy, you should tell Sierra about your work,” said Colin. “It’s super interesting, I bet it would make her go into biology.”

“I study the effects of pesticides on native animal life,” said Marcy, preening.

“Oh, yeah!” said Sierra. “Thistle told me about that. That’s how you found him, right? Out in the field?”

“Yeah!”

Sierra turned towards Thistle. “I’m kind of surprised you let Marcy catch you. I figured you’d be able to get away using magic.”

Thistle bristled again. “Um…”

This was the point at which Colin took note of Thistle’s nervousness. “Thistle’s a pretty nimble little guy, but Marcy had a net. She’s pretty good at catching little things in a net.”

“Yeah!” said Marcy. “Recently I had to catch a bunch of insects for this grant that was studying bioaccumulation at different trophic levels on agricultural–”

“Okay, but, like,” interrupted Sierra, “Surely you must have some magic you can use to defend yourself? You can use magic, right?”

Thistle recoiled, looking on the verge of tears.

This was the point at which Sierra herself finally noticed Thistle’s anxiety. She eased back a little, as though she hadn’t already just trucked past polite boundaries. “I–I’m sorry, I just–I’m curious.”

Thistle was experiencing a tumultuous mix of emotions. He was scared that if he flaunted the fact that he was a magical creature too much, it might give them ideas about how to take advantage of him. Jewel’s harsh speech about humans extracting magic from him, and how they always captured and tortured aliens and whatever extraordinary creatures they found, had made him perpetually nervous about talking about magic in too great of a depth with any of the humans…Even the ones he trusted. He knew, logically, that they were his friends, he could trust them, and they would never do something like that… But still. His prey instincts kicked in, warning him to stay away from anything that could be seen as something to be used.

And…he was not a proud creature, generally. But he was a little embarrassed. Everyone always got excited about the prospect of him being capable of supernatural feats, but he had just…never learned. It seemed very silly to try and explain, but he’d never had reason to. He wasn’t embarrassed when he’d been at home with his family, because nobody batted an eyelash at the prospect of magic–they were all better at it than he was. Why would he put in the effort to get good at it, when he was useful in other ways? When his natural talent lay elsewhere? When he could sew and craft things way, way faster than anyone else, and see the delight on their faces when he gave it to them? When they were a family unit, and all made up for each other’s strengths and weaknesses?

But now he was the only one around who could use magic if he tried, with the potential for magic. They were all so interested in it, the big thing he had never been very good at, and it was so easy to imagine them forcing him to try it for their own curiosity. It could be as simple as his humans good-naturedly pressuring him to demonstrate some of the simpler applications, all the way up to the horror of some malicious Robert-type human catching wind of him and stealing him away, locking him up and demanding the use of his magic for themselves.

He didn’t have any reason to be nervous. He knew he didn’t have any reason to be nervous. They were his friends. They wouldn’t do anything to him. He knew they wouldn’t do anything to him.

But he was just so scared.

Thistle started crying.

“Oh no!” said Sierra, mortified. “Thistle I–I’m so, so sorry! Don’t cry! It’s okay! We don’t have to talk about it!”

The other three humans all started to get up from their chairs, which startled Thistle, prompting him to hunch over.

Marcy’s hands came at him slowly, comfortingly. “Do you want to go to the living room?”

He nodded mutely.

Marcy’s hands closed around him–something that at one point was so so terrifying, now a solid and reassuring presence. The overwhelming world disappeared as he curled up and she carried him.

She opened her hands when they were in the corner of the living room. It was quieter here, and dim, the humans talking distantly in the dining room. He uncurled and let himself be held, looking up into Marcy’s compassionate eyes. His eyes flickered briefly to the fishtank behind her–Jewel was peeking out from behind a plant, brow furrowed in worry.

Marcy’s finger brushed his jaw gently. “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“I–I just–” Thistle’s voice wavered. “I just got scared.”

“Do you want to be alone in your castle for a little bit?”

He nodded tearfully.

Marcy set him on the ground, and he scampered forward into the castle and shut the door.

Marcy came back into the dining room, taking her place at the dinner table with a sigh.

“I’m so sorry,” said Sierra, seeming on the verge of tears. “I’m so–so sorry, Marcy, I’m really sorry, I’m so stupid, I’m an idiot–”

“All right,” said Marcy. “Okay, just listen.”

Teddy jumped in. “It’s hard to read his facial expressions sometimes, because his face is so small.”

“Right,” said Colin. “But–but he’s really an open book in other ways.”

“You have to pay closer attention,” said Marcy. “You have to be more careful to check how he’s feeling. It’s harder to notice, and he’s sometimes too timid to let you know.”

“I’m sorry,” said Sierra, again. “I’m so stupid–”

“Just–just listen,” said Marcy. “Don’t make the same mistakes we did. He’s been through a lot of trial-and-error with us, because we had to, to try and figure out how to interact with him. I don’t want him to have to go through that again with a new person. Especially one that’s supposed to already care about him.”

“I’m so stupid,” blubbered Sierra.

“Then stop being stupid and listen!” Teddy snapped. “That’s not helpful.”

Sierra’s mouth clamped shut.

“I know you can do this,” said Marcy. “I wouldn’t let you even try if I didn’t think you could.”

Sierra nodded.

They spent a few minutes going over some things–what to watch out for, how to read his body language including his wings and ears. The humans felt weird talking about him like that when he must surely be able to hear them, but Sierra needed to hear it. From his castle, Thistle crouched and listened, suddenly self-conscious. Do my ears really go back when I’m scared? Do I really flare my wings out and rustle them when I’m happy?

He came back out after a few minutes, when he’d calmed down. The humans all immediately ceased their conversation, looking at him cautiously.

“Hey, bud,” said Colin. “Ready to come back to the table now?”

He craned his neck back to look up at them from the floor, nodding meekly. He jumped up, catching the edge of the table and hauling himself up.

“I’m sorry,” said Sierra. “I should have realized you might be upset by my questions.”

“It’s–it’s okay,” said Thistle. He sat down at his little table-on-a-table. “I just got–just got a little nervous.”

“You don’t have anything to be nervous about,” Marcy soothed.

“I know,” said Thistle. “Really, I do. I know in my brain. It’s just…” He moved a hand from his head down to his chest. “...hard to feel it sometimes.”

Sierra nodded. “We don’t have to talk about it. I promise it’s okay.”

Thistle fiddled with his fork. “I…would like to talk about it, I think.”

Marcy’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“I think it might make me feel better. I’ve been avoiding it on purpose.”

“All right,” said Teddy. “As long as you’re doing it because you want to, and not because you feel like you have to.”

Thistle swallowed, then nodded. He lowered his eyes. “I don’t really use magic because I never learned.” He blushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “I could have, and it’s embarrassing to admit I didn’t. It’s like how I’ve noticed humans are sometimes embarrassed that they don’t have a driver’s license, or don’t understand taxes.”

Sierra flushed now. She didn’t have a driver’s license.

“Did your family make you feel bad about it?” Marcy asked.

“No!” said Thistle. “No, definitely not. They would never. It was just frustrating watching my older siblings who got it a lot faster than I did, so I decided to just focus on things they weren’t good at. I enjoyed those things more anyway, and it was more useful since we had enough people to do magic already anyway.”

“That makes perfect sense,” said Marcy.

Thistle kept his eyes glued to his food. “It’s still–It still makes me feel unsafe, because I know humans are very interested in magic, and if someone like Robert didn’t care about my feelings as much as you all, they could try to take my magic for themselves. And the eldest members of the family were usually the ones who used magic to protect everyone, so it feels a little bit like I don’t know how to keep myself safe anymore.”

“We’ll keep you safe, don’t worry,” said Sierra dutifully.

Marcy held up a hand. “I’m sure Thistle appreciates our help very much, but I’m sure he would appreciate it even more to not be in a position where that was necessary in the first place.” She used a finger to take his hand comfortingly. “Do you think you’d like to be able to do magic?”

His eyes flashed over to the fish tank. “It—Maybe. I’m not sure. It would be much harder here, without my family to teach me. But I have plenty of free time now, and I’ve already learned so much.”

Marcy released him and went back to picking at her food with a fork, forcing well-regulated casualness. “Well that’s certainly something we can try. But only if you want to.”

Thistle gave a flushed smile, warming from the inside out.

“So how does it work, exactly?” said Sierra, eyes sparkling. “I mean, if you want to explain it, of course.”

“It’s kind of like flexing a muscle,” said Thistle. “You just try and wish and think really, really hard about it.” He gave a laugh, rubbing the back of his head. “I can’t explain it very well. Maybe that’s why I’m not very good at it.”

“No, that makes total sense!” said Sierra. “That’s really, really cool. Are there like magic words or anything? How do you learn new spells?”

“Oh, well, no I don’t think so. I mean, I can do magic to fly, because that’s the easiest one, and when I was younger I would…” He waved his hands. “I had this thing I could do to speed up sewing, but eventually it just got easier to do it by hand when I had more practice.” He tapped his chin. “As for, like, learning new things…Well, I don’t really know how you learn the techniques necessarily, someone else can give you directions but it’s like, either you can figure out how to do it or you can’t. But it’s easier when you have lots of magic stored up, because it kind of…” He made a shaking motion, as though grabbing a bottle of soda and letting it explode. “...bubbles out of you. It’s like a force of will thing.

“So there aren’t, like, spells or anything?” said Sierra.

Thistle shrugged. “Uh, I don’t know–I guess not really in the way you think about them like that. It’s more like an extension of your natural abilities that you can use if you have enough magic stored up. Usually it doesn’t just happen; you have to practice, and some things are easier to learn than others. I’ve just kind of…never had the right circumstances.”

“What do you mean by stored up?” said Teddy. “You make it sound like you can find it somewhere and bury it for later.”

“Oh it’s–it’s sort of like. Well, it’s like how you have to eat food to fuel your muscles. And plants generate energy with the sun, and store it in their leaves. It’s kind of like that.”

“Woah!” said Colin. “That’s rad. So you’re solar-powered.”

“Er, no…”

“I think that was a metaphor,” said Marcy. “Unless…?”

“No,” said Thistle. “The sun is nice, but I don’t get magic from it.”

“Then how do you get it?” said Marcy.

Thistle once again went beet red, absolutely mortified.

“You don’t have to tell us!” Marcy rushed to clarify. “If it’s–”

“You all!” said Thistle, and he hid his face in his hands.

The humans all looked at each other. “...us?” said Marcy. “But we’re not magical at all!”

Thistle’s ears twitched, still hiding his face. He said something, too muffled and quiet to hear.

“What was that?” said Marcy.

He removed his hands. His eyes were big, and he had an embarrassed smile on his face. “I generate magic through social connections! I charge up when people are nice to me! I’m more powerful when people who care about me are around!”

Teddy went awwww. Colin looked like he didn’t really understand. Sierra put a hand to her chest and the other to her mouth, tears in her eyes. Marcy’s lip wobbled. “I didn’t know that. That’s–that’s–that’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, so, so–” said Thistle, suddenly unsure of where to go from here.

“So if I playfully tease you, that’s good for you?” said Marcy.

The mischief in her voice was enough to snap Thistle out of his own head, dispersing his anxiety immediately. “Uh–”

“So if I did this–” Her hand stiffened into a claw and came over him.

“Don’t!” Thistle laughed, already knowing what was coming.

“It would actually be good for you–” Her fingers came down and gave him a full-body tickle.

He was on the floor instantly, rolling around under her merciless assault, giggling and pushing at her hand. “Marcy! Marcy, no! Marcy!”

“Too bad,” said Marcy, rolling him over into her hand. “We love you, so now you’re stuck here dealing with us.”

Thistle flared his wings out and rustled them.

***

After dinner, they watched a movie and went to bed. Thistle looked like he was considering asking to sleep with Sierra, but ended up going the safe route and sleeping with Marcy like he usually did.

They had a full agenda of activities planned the next day.

The natural history museum was the first item of the day, and the one for which Thistle was the most excited. He quivered in the crook of Sierra’s neck excitedly, hiding under her hoodie when others were around. Fortunately since they were there on a weekday, it was quiet and there were few others around, so he was able to stay out most of the time.

He said he felt guilty for dodging buying a ticket and made Marcy donate some extra money. There was a delightful donation box that made it look like a Tyrannosaurus Rex was eating your money.

Thistle was impressed by the dinosaur skeletons at first, but as they started seeing more and more of them, they started to get repetitive. Clearly the different shapes all meant something to Sierra and Marcy, but to Thistle, they were all looming, hulking forms he was having trouble comprehending. He seemed more interested in the little pictures on the information placards, which depicted the beasts with flesh and skin.

He was absolutely in love with the hall of gemstones. Every single one he stopped and gazed at adoringly, appreciated the grooves in the stones, the shimmers and sparkles, the craftsmanship on the ones which were cut. Unfortunately, this was the one Sierra and Marcy found the most boring, and Thistle probably would have kept them in there all day if he hadn’t been small enough that Sierra could just walk him away to something more interesting.

Into the hall of mammals they went. It was filled with taxidermied specimens. Thistle was delighted by the opportunity to see up close animals it was normally too dangerous to interact with, especially the small predators. Thistle got very quiet when they started seeing snake skeletons and mounts. Sierra pointed out that a snake wasn’t a mammal, to which Marcy responded that they’d wandered into the hall of reptiles.

It was harder to let him see things in the gift shop, because in the enclosed space it was easier for the employees to see what they were doing. But Thistle made it abundantly clear that they could not leave until he picked out a gemstone to take home, promising he would pay Marcy back by selling extra things on Etsy. He eventually picked out a blue geode whose tag said it was chalcanthite.

They went to the mall next. Mostly window shopping, although they did stop in to the comic book store where Thistle begged Marcy to buy him some action figures, which she did. They stopped at the soft pretzel booth, and when no one was looking Thistle clambered onto the table and started wrestling with the twisted, salty dough to make both women laugh.

There was a miniature arcade there, and Sierra tried repeatedly to win a small stuffed cat from a crane game, without success. Thistle devilishly implored them to make sure no one was watching, then darted up into the claw machine through the prize flap, swimming through the stuffed animals until he reached Sierra’s coveted cat. He pushed it over–with some effort, it was bigger than he was–and rolled it down into the flap. He performed a similar trick later on a vending machine when Marcy wanted a candy bar that had gotten stuck in the dispensing coils.

They decided to go home because Marcy and Sierra's feet were getting tired. Thistle's weren't, so he was disappointed.

He slept with Sierra on the couch that night. Thistle could see Marcy trying to hide her disappointment, but she nevertheless encouraged him to do so.

Sierra's sleeping patterns were different than Marcy's, and he woke up once being squished under her shoulder, but it was easy enough to wake her up.

He didn't have any nightmares that night. He felt like an actual person, one who had people who loved and respected him.

The next day they went to the conservatory. Thistle had never been more in his element in a human-controlled space. He could not stop commenting on how good all the trees were, and more than once they had to hurriedly grab him because he failed to hide on their remark that someone was coming. One time he went missing for a whole ten minutes, the two women scouting the entire place for him, trying not to look too panicked. They eventually found him in the butterfly room, where he claimed he'd been playing hide and seek with them.

Things weren’t crowded because it was a regular workweek. They just had to be a little cautious, but they ended up being able to do pretty much anything they wanted to.

They took the train to sightsee downtown. They got ice cream. They played board games. They went swimming. They went to a fancy restaurant and got weird, gourmet soups. They sat contentedly at home, watching meaningless videos on their phones.

He was in Heaven. He didn't have nightmares. He was a person. He had friends. He never wanted it to end.

***

After confirming the coast was clear, Thistle stood on the car door, next to the door lock, as Marcy rolled the window down. Behind them in the background, the commotion of the airport chattered distantly.

Thistle was misty-eyed. “Well…I guess this is goodbye. For now.”

Sierra held her hand out, and Thistle curled up in it. She brought him to her chest. “I know plane tickets are expensive, b-but I’m sure I can find some way to come again soon.”

Thistle hugged her back as best as he could as she squeezed him.

She set him back down, wiping her eyes. “Well…you definitely weren’t what I was expecting, but–but it turned out even better than I could have hoped. Thank you for letting me meet you.”

“Thank you,” said Thistle.

“I don’t know how I’ll…go back to just–just living a normal life. And just pretending this didn’t happen. That you’re not real. But I’ll keep quiet, I promise.” Her face went red. “Maybe I’ll–maybe I’ll look more closely at the ground when I’m outside back at home now.”

Marcy smiled. “That sounds nice.”

“Thank you,” said Thistle. “I love you. Goodbye. Have a nice flight.”

Sierra cleared her throat, then looked at Marcy through the window. “Thanks for the ride. Drive safe home.”

“Have a good flight.”

Sierra hovered for a few more moments, then patted the car and walked off, rolling her suitcase behind her.

Thistle jumped down into the passenger’s seat, and Marcy rolled the window up and pulled away from the curb.

Thistle slowly lowered himself down and curled up into a ball. “Thank you, Marcy. That was. Very nice.”

Marcy reached over and gave him a little pat. “I’m glad.”

“I can tell you found her a little annoying. Thank you for not saying anything.”

Marcy let out an embarrassed laugh. “That’s okay, I still had fun. You can have her come back over any time.”

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed totally wrung out. “It’s natural to be feeling a little down after your friend leaves…is there something we should do? I…” She bit her lip. “I–I hate to ask this–I know that, well–I think–I um…”

“What is it?”

“You wouldn’t…Would you rather go live with Sierra?” When there was a pause, Marcy rushed to add, “I don’t know how we could get you through the flight there, but–but if that’s something you would–would want, I mean, you know I would be disappointed, but that’s your decision and I want what’s best for you.”

She felt a microscopic hand on her thigh. “No, Marcy. Sierra could never replace you. But thank you.”

He sounded so sure. Guilty relief washed through her. “Okay.” She kept her eyes on the road. “Still…it’s OK to miss her. We should–We can try and make some efforts to find you some more local friends. It’s–it’s a tricky needle to thread, of course, but I saw how happy you were…if you want, it might be nice to, I don’t know…find somewhere where you could have a sleepover?” It sounded stupid as she said it, but it seemed like the exact kind of activity he would like.

He was silent, so impossible to tell what his actual thoughts were.

“I don’t know who exactly you would want to–Well, I don’t know, but I know you’re sociable, and–and now we’ve eased into it, surely we can find some other people closer here so they could visit more often?”

No response.

“What do you think?” She glanced down to look at him.

He was gone.

***

You just try and wish and think really, really hard about it.

It took Thistle a decent minute to get his bearings to even figure out where he was. It was so dark, but he heard the sounds of many, many humans nearby, their voices muffled, and felt himself jolting and bouncing off soft fabrics accompanied by a rolling clicking sound.

He scrabbled to get upright, finding something solid to grab onto, looking around wildly.

As his eyes adjusted, he realized what he was looking at….A zipper. The clacking was the clacking of wheels over tile. Astonished, he looked down at the fabric under his hands and recognized it as the pink strawberry-patterned dress that Sierra had worn yesterday.

He was in Sierra’s suitcase.

He was in Sierra’s suitcase. Somehow. He had just been there with Marcy, and he’d blinked, and his stomach lurched, and then he’d just found himself in Sierra’s suitcase.

Either Thistle or Sierra had just used magic. Those were the only two possible explanations. They had both been so sad to leave, wishing they could stay together, and so pumped full of magic from their long vacation doing nothing but bonding, that it had just spilled over and yanked Thistle over and dropped him in Sierra’s suitcase.

Thistle didn’t feel like he’d done magic. To do something as big as teleporting himself from the car to inside the airport, that would have taken an enormous amount of magic that would leave him feeling very drained, which he didn’t feel.

Did that mean…Sierra had done it?

Was Sierra just…naturally very good at using magic? That would be ironic, a pixie who sucked at magic accidentally befriending a human who happened to be a savant at it. Sierra had never met a magical creature before now and so wouldn’t have had any actual magic in her body to actually perform any magic until now.

Was that how it worked? Were humans…able to use magic, but unaware of it? Unable to generate any themselves, but able if someone like Thistle helped them?

Sierra, of course, didn’t notice any of this. She just found herself suddenly feeling very tired, rolling her suitcase to a stop at the back of the security line and yawning, head drooping.

Not far away, on the road from the airport, a little red car with an I fucking love science bumper sticker slammed on its breaks, screeching into the most aggressive U-turn ever seen in the tri-state area.

***

Sierra was almost to the front of the line when she spotted Marcy, power-walking towards TSA, very clearly trying to strike some balance between her volcanic anger and her desire to not make a scene in front of security.

“Marcy?” said Sierra nervously. “What is it?”

“Come over here,” said Marcy venomously. “Get out of line and come over here.”

Sierra regretfully looked back at TSA, then ducked under the dividers to step out of line. Looking chastised, she rolled her suitcase behind her and met Marcy. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

Marcy grabbed Sierra’s wrist in an icy grip. She leaned in. “Listen to me. I don’t know what you did. I don’t know how you did it. But we both know you’re not going to get him past security. They’ll see him on the X-rays. So I’m just going to say this once.” She held out her other hand. “Give him back.”

“What?” said Sierra, eyes wide, looking like a kicked puppy. “What are you talking about?”

“Where is Thistle?”

“He was in the car with you!”

“And now he isn’t. I don’t know how you did it, but–”

“You think I–You think I tried to steal him?”

“You’re not getting on that plane until I have him. Open your suitcase.”

Sierra drew back, looking overwhelmed. “I–I didn’t!”

“Then open your suitcase!”

She looked at TSA out of the corner of her eye. “Can we–can we at least go into the bathroom or something? For some privacy?”

“Fine.”

They managed to find a single-stall family bathroom with a lock on the door. When they were alone, Sierra turned her suitcase on its side and used the little key to undo the luggage lock.

She unzipped it and flipped it open, revealing Thistle tangled in her socks.

“What?” said Sierra, mortified. “How did you –How did–”

Marcy swiped Thistle out of the suitcase, holding him as far away from Sierra as possible, opening her mouth to wring Sierra out.

“Wait!” said Thistle, waving his hands urgently. “Marcy, wait! Wait!”

Both women looked on the verge of tears, but they broke eye contact from each other and looked down to him.

“It’s…It’s not Sierra’s fault.”

***

It was nearly eleven o’ clock by the time they got home, Marcy dragging herself in through the door and not turning the lights on, moving through the dim and quiet into the living room.

She set Thistle down on the coffee table. The room was lit just by the soft light from the fish tank. She folded her arms on her knees. “Okay, so…Sorry if I scared your friend off so much that she doesn’t want to visit anymore. There are only so many Auntie Anne’s pretzels I can buy someone as an apology.”

“I think she understands.” He sat down cross-legged. His cheeks were rosy. “I don’t–I don’t think any of us really expected that, and you were…worried.”

Marcy tented her fingers. “So…you think that humans can do magic too? That’s what you think happened?”

“Yes. I–I didn’t think it was possible.”

Marcy’s hands started to tap in excitement, but she was clearly trying to stay level-headed. “Right. Okay. That’s cool. That’s interesting.”

“Yeah.” He wound a lock of hair in his finger. “I honestly wasn’t sure. But I guess it makes sense.”

He smiled at her. She was grinning like an idiot. “What are you thinking?” he said.

“Just…about what you said to us about magic at dinner.”

“Yeah?”

“About learning it.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe we could…could learn it together?”

He beamed. “I’d like that.”

****

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