#sorry I do not know how to draw a snowmobile
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Mery Crumble!
#sorry Shadowheart you didn’t get a gift#bg3#my art#art#sketches#doodles#fanart#baldur's gate 3#chibi#shadowheart#astarion#gale of waterdeep#gale dekarios#wyll ravengard#lae'zel#Christmas#merry christmas#karlach#sorry I do not know how to draw a snowmobile
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Mentally I've been stuck here ever since I learnt that Dani had to babysit this ⬇️ Odi through his worst hangover during his very first wc finals in 2018:
The head coach is terrifying to approach at the best of times; today, in his current mood, he looks downright menacing as he drives past the entrance to the parking lot. Neither Daniel nor Justin are deterred though, and hurry across the uneven, icy ground as fast as they can. In their back, the long, drawn out lake lies grey and calm at the bottom of the valley.
They begin to talk at the same time.
“Excuse me, I think there has been a misunderstanding,” Daniel says.
“You can’t do this, Coach!” Justin says.
The coach, still half-way hunkered over as he is exiting the car, stops in his tracks, and glares at them. Both Daniel and Justin are wise enough to stop what they are saying. For a few heartbeats they are both quiet as the coach’s frightening glare rests on them. Daniel is the first to read his expression correctly.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hi,” Justin adds quickly, and they both follow the coach as he walks towards the boot of the car.
“Hello, boys,” the coach rumbles. Justin’s mouth is wide open again, though this time, Daniel shoves his elbow in his friend’s ribs, and takes over.
“I’m sorry but I think there has been a misunderstanding with the allocation of the lodgings.”
“It’s the last race week of the season, you can’t do…” Justin begins but again is silenced with a well-placed elbow to the rib cage.
“I’m just not sure there’s a good reason for your decision…though we fully respect it,” Daniel hurries to add. “But we thought that maybe there are some improvements we could do…and it would be beneficial for the whole team. Also…”
The coach raises a finger, and Daniel stops mid-sentence. Again the coach glares at them for the fraction of a moment too long.
“You will not share an apartment,” he eventually says. Daniel and Justin sputter like stalling snowmobiles in his back while he pulls a suitcase out of the car, and puts it on the ground.
Once more he silences them with a raised finger. “Do you want to know the reason?”
“Yes!” they exclaim.
“You!” the coach says, and points his finger at Justin whose expression immediately turns to utter shock.
“What? I didn’t do anything!”
The coach laughs as he pulls out another suitcase. “But you did! Because of you and your idiotic post on smartbook I had to sit not in one but TWO meetings with our organisation’s president and someone from FIS.”
“It’s facebook,” Daniel says softly, his shoulders now slumped at the sudden realisation of their endeavour’s futility.
“Do you know how much I’ve had it with meetings? Up to here!” the coach barks at Justin, and draws a line across his forehead with his extended finger. “So no, you will not share an apartment this week. You received your flatmates, and I told the team everyone who swaps with you will walk to South America next summer.”
“This is retaliation!” Justin cries out.
The coach laughs, and closes the hatch of the car. “I guess you could say so, yes.”
Daniel grabs Justin by the shoulder, and with a little bit of struggling mangages to push him away. “I understand that must have been annoying but I don’t see how that is a reason to punish me for it.”
The coach locks the car, and grabs his suitcases. “You’re not being punished.”
“You put me in the apartment with the rookie!” Daniel almost shouts, his nerves getting more frazzled by the second as he struggles to keep Justin back.
“This is so unfair!” he throws in over Daniel’s shoulder.
“Listen!” the coach barks, and both straighten their backs. Again the finger lands on Justin.
“I’m giving you a bit of friendly advice, because I’m your coach, and it’s my job: The next time you want to call out FIS’ marketing strategy, I want you to go to a home-trainer, and I want you to pedal until your tongue touches the ground. Because this will be a much smarter use of your energy than anything else you could do.” Justin throws up his hands but the finger wanders over to Daniel, and he gets no chance to rage further.
“And you are not being punished. He’s a good kid, and I’m sure you will get along just fine. In fact, why don’t you go over and lend him a hand?”
Daniel and Justin whirl around. They barely register the coach taking off at a brisk pace as they stare at the bus and Gisin that have arrived on the parking lot while they have been busy.
“I’m sure you’ve already heard of Daniel and Justin from the slalom team. They’re…well, you’ll get used to them,” Marc says to the young man climbing out of the passenger side of the bus. “Laurel, Hardy, this is Marco.”
Strands of blonde hair peek out from under Marco’s oversized hat and curl around his shoulder, and even though he is quite tall himself he is so lanky that he could disappear entirely behind Gisin’s large frame. He snorts at Marc’s last remark, and bites down on his lip. From the other side of the bus, their service man appears and opens the back.
“This is all your fault,” Daniel hisses to Justin, and walks over to Marco. “Hi, I’m Hardy.”
-----
Their lodgings take up an entire street of long barracks separated into units, a short stretch behind the main street, and just elevated enough to get a glimpse of the lake through the naked birches. Justin and Daniel take off with Marco’s baggage while Gisin keeps Marco back by the shoulder. They have reached the first doors already when he catches up with them.
“It’s all true,” Daniel says.
“What is?” Marco asks. He is skipping along, only a backpack and his jacket dangling from his arms.
“Any warnings he told you about us.”
Marco laughs. “No warnings, he told me the number of his and Beat’s apartments, in case it gets boring with you.”
“That’s even more insulting,” Daniel grumbles, and fishes the key out of his pocket. They shuffle through the door of the tiny apartment, and drop the bags in the small space between the kitchenette and the rickety table. With a sigh, Daniel turns around to face Justin.
“Is this because…” He breaks off when he realises where Marco is heading. “Excuse me, that one’s my room,” he says loudly.
“I thought so,” Marco says, his feet right at the edge of the threshold, and with slumped shoulders stares wistfully towards the window with the breathtaking view over the lake and mountains behind it. “Pity.”
Daniel waits until he moves on towards the other room facing the back alley to turn back to Justin. “You don’t need to sulk because I said it’s your fault.”
“I am not sulking!” Justin exclaims. “Because it is not my fault!”
“I told you you’d just stir the pot without changing anything!”
“Someone had to finally say what a clown organisation FIS is!”
“Everyone knows that!” Daniel shouts from the other side of the table. They both pause in their yelling to stare at Marco coming back from his room. He shrugged out of the top layer of clothes, and his hair is standing up in all directions from the static of the hat’s synthetic fibers.
“Oh, don’t stop because of me,” he says, and grabs his bags by the handles. “I just need these here….thank you.”
“Yeah but nobody puts any pressure on,” Justin snaps as soon as Marco has disappeared.
Daniel shakes his head. “Is this still because of your DNF in…”
“IT IS NOT! Frankly, I don’t even know why you had to go and complain. Now the coach will…”
“I?” Daniel barks. “I had to go? I did this for us but okay, I guess you prefer Loïc’s company over mine then…”
“You did it because you didn’t want to bunk with the rookie,” Justin shoots back, and crosses his arms in front of his chest while Daniel furiously tries to shush him. An apologetic smile washes over his face when Marco’s head peeks around the corner of the hallway. He is topless now, and a towel is dangling from his shoulder.
“I didn’t say...it like that.”
“It’s okay,” Marco answers light-heartedly. “I’d much rather be with Thomi too, even though he sounds like a chainsaw when he sleeps on his back. At first I thought the coach hates me but now I’m glad to know it’s because of you.”
Daniel blinks. “Oh.”
Marco smiles at him. “Right. Hey, would you mind if I took some of your soap? I’d like to take a shower before dinner but I forgot it at home.”
“You forgot your soap at home?”
“Well…more like my toiletry bag,” Marco explains, and stares at Daniel with his big, brown eyes.
Daniel needs a few seconds before he can answer. “Sure,” he eventually manages.
“Cool, thanks,” Marco laughs, and disappears in the bathroom.
Daniel chuckles when he turns back to Justin. “This is so much worse than I thought. He’s like you! This week will be hell.”
-----
It is not easy to talk with a pair of lips on his own but Daniel is quite practiced.
“No!”
As if he could convince him if he just pressed against him harder, Justin wraps his arms tighter around Daniel’s neck, and kisses him with even more fervour.
“Please,” he begs in Daniel’s mouth, and grinds his hips against Daniel’s just hard enough to make the narrow bed squeak.
“Absolutely not…not when I’m bunking with the rookie.”
Justin whines, and shoves his tongue even further in Daniel’s mouth.
“He’s not here yet,” he mumbles.
Daniel snorts, and pulls his head slightly back. “He better come back soon, he has a race tomorrow.”
“He’s young,” Justin shrugs, and follows Daniel until his head bumps against the wall and he can no longer evade his kisses. “He’ll be fit enough. Please, Poulette…”
“M-mh,” Daniel answers, and shakes his head so that their lips lose contact. He drags his fingers through Justin’s hair, and smiles at him. “I’m sorry, not tonight.”
“We’ll be quick, come on…” Justin begs, and Daniel laughs again.
“I know you will be quick,” he teases, and silences Justin’s outrage with another kiss until he stops fighting, and melts against his chest. Just when Justin tries another angle by putting his hand over the bulge under Daniel’s sweatpants, something heavy crashes against the front door. At once they pull apart. The noise outside just barely reaches Daniel’s room at the other end of the apartment, separated by two doors and heavy insulation but they still hear the breathless, almost shrieking laughter.
“Jesus, are you alright?” Gino yells.
Again something heavy drops against the door. Justin lifts one leg, ready to slip off the bed but Daniel keeps him in place, and shakes his head.
“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Marco’s voice assures.
“So…do you want to get up again?” Gino asks after a short moment of silence.
“Uh, yeah…as soon as I know which way is up.”
Again Gino’s laughter reverberates through the apartment.
“Silence!” Marco laughs. “I’m with Yule and he’s already sleeping.”
“Sleeping, right,” Gino grunts. “Which one’s your room?” Something heavy moves over the floor, and then drops against the wall to Daniel’s room.
“Thank you,” Marco says. “This one there. And it’s true. I saw him leave earlier, so we really have to be quiet now or…”
The door springs open and with a loud bang slams against the wall. Light from the kitchen as well as Marco follow right behind, though Gino can catch him at the last moment before he faceplants to the ground again.
“Wait, no, that’s not my room, that’s…ohhh…” Marco’s voice dies down as he takes in the scene on the bed. Then, a big smile spreads over his flushed cheeks and the blonde hair clinging to it, and he waves enthusiastically at the people on the bed. “Hi Daniel, hi Justin!”
Justin chuckles, and waves back. “Hi, Marco.”
“I was twelfth in the downhill today!”
“We saw. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay, let’s get you to your real room,” Gino presses through clenched teeth, and hoists Marco towards the hallway. “Sorry about that, guys.”
“No problem,” Justin says but neither of them is still listening as they shuffle off.
“Told you he’s sleeping alright,” Gino giggles, and another door gets slammed.
Justin chuckles, though he pauses when he looks down at his boyfriend and sees Daniel’s exasperation.
“Come on, he’s endearing,” he says, and kisses him.
“Annoyingly so,” Daniel snorts, and pushes against Justin’s shoulders.
“You used to love it when I did it,” Justin sighs but does not fight as he gets shoved off the bed.
Daniel grabs Justin’s jacket and throws it over his shoulders. “That’s because you used to be much more charming and sexy and handsome and overall breathtaking than him.”
Justin grins and leans in for another kiss. “Used to?”
Daniel smirks, and shoves him towards the door. “Good night, Honey Bear.”
-----
The slats of the bed are groaning almost as shameless as Daniel. His knuckles shine white as he clings to the headrest like a drowning man.
“Fuck, Justin…,” he moans, his legs twitching over the rumpled sheets. “Oh, fuck…”
Justin hums around Daniel’s cock in his mouth, and picks up the pace with his strokes. Daniel does not need more, and with a choked cry comes in spurts down Justin’s throat. He is still riding the wave down from the climax when Justin plops down next to him, and snuggles against his chest.
“See? I told you there’s enough time.”
Daniel laughs softly, still out of breath, and plants a kiss on Justin’s sweat-sheened forehead.
“Okay, for once you were right.”
“M-hm,” Justin hums with a satisfied grin. For a few moments they lie together in silence before Justin pats Daniel’s chest, and sits up.
“You’re going already?”
Justin snorts, and grabs his trousers from the floor. “I only have the one back with me and I need it in two days…” He pauses, and checks the watch on his phone, “...no, tomorrow. I can’t share this cot with you tonight.”
Daniel sighs, and boxes the pillow under his head a few times. “This week sucks.”
Justin pulls his shirt over his head, and leans down for another kiss. “It’s almost over. Only two more nights with your new best friend.”
Daniel rolls his eyes. “Considering the way he partied yesterday for a twelfth place I’m sure I won’t see him until we’re on the plane after today’s race. Tell Loïc my regards.”
“No, thanks,” Justin laughs, and softly shuts the door.
The party of the sponsor down in the village is still shooting rays of colourful light into the sky but Daniel is tired enough that he feels sleep crawl over him the moment he closes his eyes. He is almost entirely dozed off when his phone starts to vibrate again. For a second he considers ignoring it.
“Missing me already?” he mumbles as he puts it against his ear.
“Uh…no, sorry.”
Daniel shoots up. “Fuck…I mean, hi.”
Gino chuckles. Thumping bass music fills the background. “Hi. I’m just calling because I was afraid you wouldn’t see it if I wrote.”
“Okay?”
“It’s stupid but could you maybe check whether Marco’s already home? I was just on the toilet and when I came back they told me he left.”
Daniel silently throws up his hands and rolls his eyes, though he cannot hide the drawn-out sigh when he answers. “Okay, fine. Though I’m pretty sure he’s not here ye…” He stops abruptly as the front door slams shut.
“What?” Gino asks in the growing silence. “Is he with you?”
“Oh no no no!” Daniel cries out at the terrible sounds coming from outside his bedroom. “I swear if you…” He pulls the door open, and stares at the scene unfolding in the small kitchenette.
“What? Daniel, what’s going on?” Gino yells through the phone.
“Everything’s okay,” Daniel sighs, and slumps against the door frame. “He’s not puking on the floor.”
“He’s puking?” Gino echoes, still loud enough that Daniel does not need his phone to hear him from the village square.
He walks around the table, and steps to Marco who is hanging over the sink, and throws up another part of his dinner from earlier in the evening.
“Oh yeah, like mad,” Daniel chuckles. “But don’t worry, there can’t be much left inside of him.”
“Okay…” Gino answers, and hesitates for a second. “So…could you maybe…”
Daniel sighs again. “I’ll make sure he won’t asphyxiate on his own vomit…wouldn’t want to lose our junior world champion, right?” He pats Marco on the shoulder and elicits a soft whimper from him.
Whatever Gino says next drowns out in a new song and the DJ shouting, and Daniel takes it as cue to hang up. He leans over Marco’s hunched body, and turns on the faucet. While the ice cold water takes care of the worst mess, Daniel flips through the few cupboards until he finds a plastic mixing bowl. In the faint light from Daniel’s room shining into the rest of the apartment, Marco’s face and hair have the same grey colour.
“If you feel like there’s something else you need to go over in your head, aim here!” Daniel says, and hands him the bowl.
“Thanks,” Marco mutters, and traipses off towards his bedroom. Daniel turns off the water, and follows him. He finds Marco laying on his stomach on his unmade bed, the plastic bowl next to his head.
“I will fucking delete Justin’s facebook profile,” Daniel mutters as he bends down, and pulls Marco’s shoes off his feet. He does not budge even a little, his breath coming slow and steady, and quietly Daniel slips out of his room. His feet have just warmed up again under the blanket of his own bed, when something heavy crashes from one end of the hallway to the other. With a heavy sigh he listens to the hollow, gurgling noises of Marco throwing up into the toilet. He stays put, and without realising that he has fallen asleep, jolts up a few minutes later when the same happens again. The third time he is wide awake, glaring into the darkness around him, too annoyed even to pick up his phone and write an accusing message for Justin to read in the morning. The fourth time Marco’s journey to the toilet wakes him up he notices that the lights of the party have stopped. The silence is heavier now, without the distant noise, and Daniel’s breath hitches when he hears something else between Marco’s retching. With a few whispered swear words he peels the toasty blanket back, and makes his way towards the only illuminated room in their apartment. The sharp, pungent smell of vomit hangs in the windowless bathroom, though luckily, Marco has managed to only stain the inside of the toilet bowl. Marco bites down on his lower lip when Daniel appears in the door but he cannot stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks.
“Is…everything alright?” Daniel asks even though the answer is apparent.
Marco shrugs, his cheek pressed against the cool porcelain of the toilet. He sniffles, and looks up at Daniel with red-rimmed eyes.
“Am I cool?”
Daniel’s brows fold into a frown as he tries to find something to say. “Like…right now?”
He cringes when Marco closes his eyes, and a new flood of tears rolls down his cheeks and into the matted strands of the hair clinging to them.
“I’m so stupid,” he chokes.
Daniel stares at him for a second before he turns on his heel, and hurries away. When he returns with a glass of water, Marco is still hunched against the toilet.
“Drink this!” Daniel orders. “And then tell me what’s going on.”
Marco takes a small sip. He stares at the ground, mute and deep in his thoughts.
Daniel keeps staring down at him until something occurs to him. “Is there a reason why you left the team at the party?”
Marco’s lip wobbles, and quickly he takes another sip. “I feel like I’ll never stop failing and I’ll never be as good as the others.”
Daniel rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “That’s because you’ve slept three of the last 48 hours and you’ve had two races in that time.”
Marco looks up, and blinks at him.
“Not to mention all the alcohol you’ve been putting away,” Daniel adds. “Well…temporarily, at least. Drink up, go to bed and I promise tomorrow everything will be different.”
He grabs the empty glass from Marco, and fills it again before digging a pill out of his almost depleted toiletry bag. Marco is already face-down on his bed again when he reaches his room.
“Do you think I could ever have the same that you have with Justin?” he mumbles from the depths of his pillow.
“Depends who you want to have it with,” Daniel answers, and puts the glass and the pill on the nightstand.
“Gino…” Marco sighs, and groans slightly as Daniel pulls the blanket out from under his body.
“You’ll have to ask him,” Daniel laughs.
Marco lifts his head, and scans the room.
“Not now,” Daniel adds hastily. “Tomorrow, when you’ll be sober again…and maybe realise that you have terrible taste.”
Marco’s head drops back into his pillow, and he mumbles something inaudible.
Daniel throws the blanket over Marco’s limp body. “Take the pill here first thing in the morning,” he says, and points at the nightstand, but Marco has already fallen asleep.
“Rookies…” Daniel mutters, and quietly slips out of the room.
-----
The ending of the season two days later is sadder than anticipated, with two cancelled races and stormy weather. The teams disperse, washed away by the rain, and one after the other the rental busses stuffed with skis and other equipment leave for the airport. Daniel is checking the sidepocket of his backpack for his passport when Marco appears by his side. He huddles close to get under the open hatch of the bus. The hair poking out from underneath his hat is dark from the rain, almost as dark as the shadows under his eyes.
“Sorry you couldn’t race,” he begins.
“It’s just my luck,” Daniel says without interrupting his search. “One whole week with you and nothing to show for it. You look terrible by the way.”
“I feel terrible too,” Marco admits. “I think I’m dying.”
“It’s called a hangover. You’ll get over it. Okay, all there.” With a satisfied smile, Daniel closes the zipper of the backpack and puts it back with the rest of his baggage.
Marco shakes his head, and stares out into the rain. “I’m not sure…the only thing I know is that I’ll never drink again.”
Daniel laughs.
“Never ever! I don’t remember a thing from that night.” For a moment, Marco stares out into the rain before he dares to ask the question. “Did I say anything about Gino?”
Daniel frowns, thinks for a second. “Not that I remember, no. Why?”
Marco shakes his head. “Just because…not important.”
Before Daniel can prod further, Marco throws his arms around him.
“At first I really did not look forward to living with you but then it turned out to be quite cool. If you ever switch to giant slalom, I’d love to bunk with you during the season. But don’t tell Thomi.”
Daniel chuckles, and hugs Marco back. “And if you ever tried slalom I would gladly lend you my toothpaste and shampoo.”
Marco laughs, and skips back towards the bus where his service man is waiting. Justin rounds the corner, and joins Daniel under the hatch where they watch the other bus jolt over the gravel toward the road.
“He’s in love with Gino,” Daniel explains, and smiles at Marco who is frantically waving at them.
“Awww, Rookie,” Justin coos. “So endearing.”
#typical case of writing 1000 words for the one scene i had in my head#rpf#text#mine#alpine skiing#marco odermatt#daniel yule
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Pelipper mail!
[Oh! It's a letter from Polaris!]
“Dear Sprite, Beedrill, and Tari
So so so sorry this letter is late. We finally resolved the Walrein situation. Unfortunately…well, the pod will only accept Wallace as the leader of their pod, so I’m going to have to leave him to stay at the shelter. He’ll be fine, he was getting bored at the house, but I’m sure he’ll miss his daily Beedrill inspections. Skie got it in xer head that I should do an interview on the main sanctuary account while I’m in town, so it looks like its going to be another week. My work never stops it seems! Ah well.
Sprite: ….I’m going to be honest Sprite, I’m not exactly delighted by that news. You. Told Kittsu to leave and she did. That’s not great! That’s super not great actually! Just- fucking dist Sprite. I’m not. mad. A smidge frustrated but not mad.
….I hope your outing was fun, and that you feel better soon. Make sure youre drinking water and eating regular meals and getting enough sleep. Please take care of yourself, bubs.
Beedrill: Your support in my caring for Bird means everything to me Beedrill. This week she got to pet more Spheals and ride (very safely) on a snowmobile. She says it was very loud but a bit cool. Matcha has been banned, but she does enjoy mochi.
As for service pokemon. The main reason for keeping service pokemon and battling pokemon separate, is specifically in the case of medical alert and task pokemon. For example, if Orion was a battler and I was battling with him, if I started having problems with my heart, he would be too distracted by the battle and wouldn’t be able to alert me to sit and calm down, or fetch my medicine. Or if I had a panic attach while he was battling, he may not notice and be able to task to help me out of it. That’s the main reason for not having a pokemon do both. It’s possible to have a service pokemon also be able to battle, but it’s a bit frowned upon for those reasons. It really depends on what tasks the pokemon will be trained to do to help you out. If you’d like, it’s something we can discuss at length when I get home. I would be happy to train a service pokemon for you if that was something you wanted.
Tari: Glad that Corro is keeping Jester in check haha. And I’m especially happy to hear that you and Delta have made up! Good job kicking its ass at air hockey, much respect. I used to be quite good at air hockey in my college days…perhaps we should battle it out to see who’s the best when I come home, yeah? I appreciate your thanks, but it is unneeded. You are always welcome in my home Tari, no matter what.
Lots of love for you not kids
-Polaris and Bird”
[A letter is returned, later than usual]
Hello Professor.
I was glad when your letter arrived, Sprite had got it in his head that something bad had happened to you and we both enjoyed this letter.
I will miss Wallace, Admittedly, I do wish I had some of his DNA and a small laboratory to study him and come to my own conclusion on weather he was a dual typed pokemon, or a fraud. I hope he finds peace at the sanctuary.
In your next letter I would like to know how bird is doing, as not hearing from her directly has made me rather on edge. Could you please include an excerpt from her in the next letter. Tell her she doesn't need to write in cursive, or use code name, just something, even a drawing would be good.
I will think over the service pokemon thing. Theres nothing wrong with me to a diagnosable extent. I don't think giving a service pokemon out to someone who doesn't need one would be the best course of action. Maybe a normal pokemon would do just fine.
I have been hanging out more with your green haired friend. It's interesting. I have a couple more observations, but i'll spesify them when I have more evidence to back them up.
----
Hi proffesor :o
I've got a gift for youuuuuu when you come back!! I won you some stuff at the arcade- we spent all of our tickets on it but I think it will be worth it
Also what are your fav colours, I've been bracelet making recently and feel like making something for you and sprite, based on one of its favourite songss~
And also I am the reneinging champion of air hockey, but thats just because everyones too scared to take me on since i keep hitting peoples fingers.
Have a good week proffesor. Hear from you soon.
Beedrill
Tari
Sprite.
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Maybe a side story for the memory dream thing but BEN has to see the reader enduring some type of abuse, bullying, trauma ect While she's seeing his drowning experience? And maybe BEN never new about it so he's utterly shocked and she had gone through that because she's such a loving happy person? I'm sorry this is just me wanting to vent tbh.
This turned out being longer than I’d expected... also I didn’t know what kind of trauma so I picked something and ran with it. If you have a certain scenario then feel free to send it in and I’d be more than happy to write it. This is something I went though, but it wasn’t as dramatic as this- lol I just kinda wanted to traumatize reader.
warning: blood mentions, bad crash, I wash too lazy to proof-read so... there might be typos
Ben gazes lovingly into your eyes, squeezing your hands once. He nods to the nameless man behind you. You grasp his hands tighter in your own as you watch the needle inject into his neck and see his head roll back as his consciousness fades away.
Snow whips around him as he enters the scene. He looks around, confused as to why your memory seems to be in the middle of a wintery forest. He walks along the given trail, large pines casting foreboding shadows, heavy piles of snow dropping from their limbs as he continues onward. Loud buzzing echoes in the distance like.. machines of some sort drawing near. Three of the snow-drivers pass by, a fourth making its way when suddenly a shout resonates. The noise bouncing from tree to tree, echoing around him as he watches the snowmobile descend downwards off the cliffside. The two people stuck on it seem to try their best to hold on for dear life, but one drops off, getting sucked under the machine with a sickening crunch and scream. Red stains the snow, but the descent continues.The second seems to be able to hold on for a little bit longer, rolling with the machinery, a muffled grunt echoing as the weight falls upon her. You gasp as you're stuck there in the snow, the weight of the machine crushing your smaller frame. The snowmobile finally seems to recognize that something was wrong, the red clip most likely haven been pulled when the driver fell off. The buzz is cut off as the motor dies down, leaving you whimpering underneath it. Ben acts before he can think shouting out.
"Don't move!" As he attempts to climb down to you. You look up to find from where the noise came from, hoping that someone from your party had noticed the fall and come to rescue you both. Your neck barks in protest at the small movement, a pang of fear shooting through you as you could only guess what that means. You struggle underneath the weight, hardly able to breathe.
"Help! Get this... off of me!" You shout, panting from the lack of good oxygen. Your mind suddenly remembers your friend. You're barely able to turn your head to see her body laid strewn across the bloody snow. You shout her name- telling her to move or groan or whimper. Anything to let you know she was still alive. Ben recognizes the friend. You'd brought her with you a few times to some events and parties. He'd had no idea that you two had gone through this together. Your heart drops as she gives no response. Adrenaline shooting through you as you finally manage to push the machine off of you and further down the hill. The snow slopes unevenly beneath your now freed form, you shoot a hand out to catch on a tree so you don't follow the gravity. A muted pain spreads through you at even that simple action, but you ignore it. You shiver from the energy rush, eyes wide as you climb up to where your friend is stuck. You roll her over, whispering her name gently, afraid of what you might find when you view her face.Her eyes give a flutter, barely there, but it's a sign of life. You breathe a sigh of relief, the previous adrenaline starting to leave you- allowing you to feel the extent of your injuries as you gasp again. Your hands fly to your stomach. Ben finally manages to make it to where the both of you lay, you holding your friend in your arms just to be sure that she remains breathing. Somewhere along the crash both of your helmets had been thrown off.
"Hey.. I told you not to move, we need to find help," Ben says as he finally reaches you both. You jump from the sudden, unfamiliar, voice. You'd been too focused on making sure that your friend was ok to even begin noticing the surrounding area.
"Who are you?" You question, immediately on the defence. Ben is taken back by your response, worry flashing through his eyes. He finally remembers that this isn't the you he knows.
"I'm just... a traveller. I saw your crash. Is everyone alright?" He responds. Your breathing is erratic as you try and focus on anything but the pain spreading through your limbs. You could only imagine what kind of injuries you had received.
"No," you respond, warmth dripping onto your skin. The blood from your friend. “No one is ok, we need to," You gulp, heat blinding your vision as black spots dance around.
"We need help." You finally choke out .
"Hey.." He seems to notice your swaying as your head feels limp, your limbs going weak.
"Hey you need to stay awake. Open your eyes for me." You shake your head, trying to shake away the woozy feeling. Your party must have seemed to finally noticed the accident as you hear snowmobiles approach and shouts resonate into the ravine. Ben manages to catch your form as you finally give into the darkness. Ben awakes with a gasp, searching for you immediately. You place a hand on his face, rubbing your thumb on his cheekbone as he comes back to you. He grasps your other hand in his, squeezing tightly. You're the first to speak.
"I spent six months in a hospital." You say, he opens his mouth to speak but you continue. "I started to hate life. I started to hate the kind nurses who even dared walk into my room smiling. I started to hate the optimistic physical therapist who would shout encouragement. I started to hate the people who were living their lives while I was stuck in an endless hell." Your name leaves his lips, but you don't give him a chance. "When I was finally released... I didn't even want to leave my room. I didn't know how to come back from it. How to continue on like nothing had happened. Six months of my life wasted. I didn't want to deal with the pity and looks of concern as I limped past. It wasn't until one day I realized... I wasn't going to stop being miserable until I helped myself. My trauma doesn't define me. It happened- and now I needed to live with it." His eyes trail downwards to your right leg, sure he'd seen you start to limp a few times here and there after a long day of walking, but he'd never known why... or had he been too careless to ask. His hand leaves yours to rest on your thigh. "Eventually.. I healed. I came back and made my life what it was going to be. I wasn't gonna let this stop me. I stopped hating everything, I stopped being so angry. Sometimes the biggest strength is being able to take the punches in life and smile through it." You finish, giving him a big grin.
"I'm so" He begins sadly, but stops himself at the look of exasperation you give him. He laughs then. "You amaze me, you really do." He pulls you in for a kiss, holding you close to him. "I could really take a lesson or two from you, you're so much stronger than I could ever hope to be."
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The Howl pt 8
A/N: The unedited version. I still have yet to give it to my beta-bestie @chloes-yellow-cup for notes. However hardly anyone ever reads on here so I figured...why not?? Sorry for the typos and whatnot.
08.
She was so close to her goal, if she could just get there before she passed out from pain everything would be okay. Fire blazed a trail down her neck as she banked a curve and zoomed through the snow. Aubrey dared lifting one hand from the handle bars to slap the tongue of flame out before it grew into something that would only go out once her corpse was dust. It wasn't until she was cresting a ridge a few hundred feet from the edge of town that she realized she had absolutely no idea where to go. She'd left the cabin with only one thought in mind. Get to Stacie. She hadn't at all factored in the idea that beyond the town of Gustavus she had no damned idea where Stacie was exactly.
Another throb of grief pulsed through her and she realized with sudden clarity that even if she had stopped to consider the fact that she didn't know where Stacie lived, or her last name, or even her as a person... she'd still make the same stupidly reckless choice to run into the sun for her. Over and over again if necessary.
“Idiot.”
Aubrey could feel the burn in her flesh travel to parts of her body that weren't exposed to the sun and knew if she didn't find Stacie or cover in the next few minutes it would all be over anyway. Snow flew out from under the skis in a wide spray as she took a turn down a side road that was dotted with a few large commercial buildings. Instinct guided her forward and she ducked down against the handle bars as best she could but she could feel her skin blistering and peeling as it burned away. It hadn't been quite as bad when she'd been able to use the trees as some marginal cover but here exposed in the full light...
It was agony.
Her eyes closed and the snowmobile bucked and swerved under her. It forced her to blink them back open even if she could only see through one. Something tugged inside, skating along her awareness in confusion. Stacie. The corners of her lips quirked briefly and she gripped the throttle tighter as she barreled down the street to a shop with the figure of a woman standing just before the large metal door, holding it aloft easily. Stacie. The vampire's eyes drifted shut just as she passed the tall figure, the sled beneath her rocketing into the garage without slowing.
The impact of slamming into the heavy workbench and wall wouldn't kill her, that would barely leave a twinge of sore muscle, but the burning... oh gods the burning. That was already killing her and the abrupt darkness of the garage as the door slammed down into place was only a minor relief. She slumped and slid off the side of the snowmobile just as careful arms lifted her. Fingertips grazed her temple and down her cheek in a gentle caress.
Aubrey tipped her head so that she could feel the soothing comfort of that warm soft skin on the only part of her that didn't hurt. Stacie cradled her closer, head hovering over hers trying to assess how bad the damage was. Her voice cracked with distress when she finally spoke.
“Aubrey...why?? Why the hell would you do this to yourself?”
She tipped her head slightly so she could see Stacie better. She would have reached out to cup the woman's face but her hands didn't want to move right as the muscles and tendons tightened. The wolf whined softly and Aubrey raised a shoulder in a shrug.
“You needed me.”
Stacie's dark head turned, flecks of gold blossoming in the green depths as her beast rose behind them. Aubrey's fangs lengthened as her own demon surged up from the center of her being as they stared at each other. The tether between them vibrated with recognition and they both let out a soft sigh. The only thing she could thing as the wolf stood and carried her through the door to the small office and up a staircase, was that she had never felt safer. Their gazes broke only when Stacie settled her carefully on the bed
“Now you need me, and I don't think a little Solarcaine is gonna fix all this.”
The joking words weren't enough to cover Stacie's worried tone and Aubrey gave a slow nod. She would heal on her own of course. The darker the space the better, but she'd heal faster with blood and they both knew it. Stacie held up a wrist and Aubrey eyed it hungrily for a moment before she forced herself to focus on those golden wolf eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“You look like a charcoal briquette and you're asking if I'm okay? Aubrey please...drink.”
She probably should have been offended by it but for some reason it made her chuckle, an action she immediately regretted when it twisted her face painfully. Stacie shifted closer with another strained whine.
“I can't...I can't have anyone else hurting because of me today. Okay? Please. Just feed already.”
There was something about the way Stacie's voice broke that hurt Aubrey's heart in new and inventive ways so she gave a slow nod. It wasn't that she didn't want to feed off the wolf. She very much wanted to have another taste of the brunette but concern made her hesitant. Sensing her reluctance, Stacie swept her hair over her shoulder and exposed the long line of her neck.
The strong and steady pulse fluttering beneath the skin drew all of Aubrey's focus. Her dry tongue licked out over her lip and she didn't think she could resist taking what was so freely being offered. Stacie relaxed into the bed as Aubrey closed the last few inches between them, her body sliding along the wolf's as she bit down. There was the slightest bit of resistance before her fangs plunged past soft flesh and blood flowed into her mouth.
Aubrey's eyes drifted shut at the smokey sweet flavor of Stacie's blood then flew open at the electric jolt that came from the power in it. It sped through her system, wild and so fucking alive! Her jaws worked as she coaxed more blood to the surface, careful not to lose herself in the thrill of the feed. The vampire pulled back, tongue caressing over her bite loving. Warmth lit her body in a way the sun had not, tingling it's way up through her body to the surface. Flesh that had been charred and crumbling began to regenerate and smooth in a ripple as it worked it's way from her head to her hands.
She tipped her head back and gasped at the sensation, her hands gripping the wolf and pulling her into Aubrey's lap. Stacie shuddered and gasped when fangs sank back in again, the brunette's body arcing up into the blonde. The cold of the grave rushed up from inside her and flowed out to meet the warmth of Stacie's energy surrounding them. Her hands drifted down the lean body cradled against her chest, relearning the soft curves almost reverently. Stacie's chest heaved as she panted with need and desire and it would be so easy to let the lure of blood and sex draw her past the line of feeding to heal. Aubrey struggled against the nearly overwhelming need to feel all of the wolf pressed along her body as the tall brunette stiffened in her arms far too close the the edge of bliss. She withdrew slowly and looked down into shimmering pools of amber and felt that now familiar tug on the bond between them.
Stacie reached up and cupped her face and she turned her head to nuzzle into it. As alarming as the thing between them should be Aubrey couldn't bring herself to fight it. Gentle fingers traced the edge of sensitive new skin and trailed down the bridge of her nose making her sigh softly. Full lips curved into a wide smile and Aubrey found herself smiling in response.
“Hey there, gorgeous.” The smile on Stacie's face faded as the throbbing hurt of grief squeezed through them again. “You shouldn't have come...”
Well it was too late for that now, she was here because she had been needed, was needed still apparently. Aubrey's lips fluttered against Stacie's palm in a soft kiss before she shrugged a shoulder.
“Perhaps, but I'm here now regardless.”
“Why did you come here? You could have...”
Aubrey smiled gently and gave a slight shake of her head. “You know why.”
Stacie's eyes softened and she nodded her agreement. Aubrey had come because Stacie had needed her and nothing, not her aunt, not the coven, not even the gods be damned sun was going to stop her. The brunette let out a breath quiet hum of understanding.
“How?” Her brow raised in question and Stacie brushed a thumb along her newly healed cheek. “How did you survive it?”
Oh. That. Aubrey gave a delicate snort of self deprecation. “Immunity borne of a weak blood.” She could easily read the confusion in Stacie's face without the feel of it blossoming in her chest but the feeling of it, curious and unsure added layers to the minute twitches of muscle as she processed the vampire's words. “My grandmother was pregnant when she was attacked by a savage vampire. She survived and bore my mother but the child was cursed. Not quite human enough to remain with her family and not nearly vampire enough to survive my birth. It's her blood that gives me the barest immunity as you saw.”
“And you think that makes you weak?” The surprise in Stacie's tone caught her off guard and she blinked. She was weak compared to her peers, not quite the full the being that other born vampires were. Too weak to survive for long without the safety of a coven and her aunt's protection. “I think it makes you one hell of a predator.”
“Flattery is only going to get you bitten.”
“Oh yes please.”
Aubrey chuckled at that and ran a hand through Stacie's long hair, fingers combing through the dark tresses. They were dancing around whatever had brought her there in the first place but she was content for the moment to sit quietly. Stacie turned and curled into her chest and gave a heartbroken sob as the dam she had been so desperately holding up broke. Emotion rose and crested in her threatening to drown them in sorrow. She pushed her power through it, anchoring them both to the here and now with the steady weight of it.
“Wade...one of my pack, he was attacked and killed in Tongass last night. I didn't protect him like I promised.”
Aubrey considered the simple statement and all that was unsaid in it. The guilt was palpable and she wasn't sure how to help Stacie through it. She was responsible to the safety of none, but she understood the weight of it on Stacie's shoulders. That the other woman felt so strongly about it said a lot about how she viewed the people she cared for.
“This wolf...your Wade. You take responsibility for him?”
“For all of them Aubrey. They're all mine and I failed. I'm Alpha and I should have been with them, keeping them safe.”
Oh. It was so obvious and she didn't know why she hadn't realized it immediately. Of course Stacie was an Alpha, all that power and the ability to shift at will made sense now. She gave a slow nod as she considered what could have harmed a wolf on the full moon. The list was remarkably short and the realization was slow to dawn but when it had she gave a regretful hum.
“Vampire?”
Stacie nodded from her spot still burrowed against her chest. Aubrey gently pried her free to cup the woman's face in both of her hands. Stacie blinked mournfully up at her with tears threatening to fall. What could she say to this? Apologize? It hadn't been her but were not all vampires one and the same for their thirst? They fed, that is what they did. How they lived, their very existence depended on it.
“The pack wants justice.”
Vampire against wolf? It would be a war that bled out all over the town and no one would be safe. Stacie gave a slight nod as the implication of it all sank in. It wasn't going to make whatever was happening between them now any easier if both their families at war with one another.
“Is that why you think I should not have come?”
The wolf nodded then gave her a wry smirk. “Yeah that and the part where you flew in here with your head on fire.”
Aubrey opened her mouth and frowned. “I have an allergy to the sun!”
“So wear a helmet!” A hel... Aubrey's mouth snapped shut if she had had the blood pressure she might have blushed. The idea of a helmet had never crossed her mind though it probably should have. Whatever expression was on her face made Stacie laugh and she pulled Aubrey down close with a warm hand cupping the back of her neck. Lips brushed delicately over hers with each hushed word. “I love you.”
It had come so effortlessly that it took both of them by surprise. She would have denied the truth of it but she felt the echo of it deep in her soul. She knew it was true because she had never been loved before and this...this felt unlike anything she had ever known in all her six hundred odd years.
“You don't even know me...”
“I knew you the moment you saved my life.”
The sun had never seared her so deeply as that one statement and she basked in the glow of it. Aubrey tightened her grip to bring Stacie up as she dropped her head. The wolf gave an approving growl and willingly exposed her neck. Aubrey pressed a cool kiss to her bite marks, lips grazing in a gentle caress. She hadn't ever known love before but she knew that Stacie was hers and in turn she belonged to the wolf. And that was enough for her to know it was real.
She was so lost in the feeling of completeness, her lips nibbling and kissing her mark in pure adoration that she didn't register another body in the room nor the deep hateful growl until a hard and heavy body impacted with hers, knocking her away from Stacie and of the edge of the bed. Shock at having her perfect bubble of bliss broken made her slow to react and the person on top of her took advantage by landing blow after devastating blow to her face. Rage rose fast in her chest when she felt the bridge of her nose crack and her lip split. The only thought she had in her mind was that someone had pulled her away from what was hers.
And now someone would die.
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"I thought I lost you" kiss, in the snow, relief.
She Can’t Lose Him
author: storybycorey
rating: PG (I forgot I was capable of PG!)
The window glass is cracked and her teeth chatter. Doesn’t matter. She’s not budging. She curls into a tighter ball and burrows morefully into her jacket. She’s beenshivering at the sill for hours; she’s all but blinded from peering out intothe snow. Anything, anything… but there’snothing out there but white.
It’s frigid inside the cabin. She doesn’t even want to imagine what it’slike outs—
Don’t think about it. He’s okay. He found shelter,found a blanket, a heavier coat, something.
She doesn’t allow herself to think about how absurd it is thathe’d find a blanket in the middle of a snowstorm.
She doesn’t want to cry—tells herself it wouldn’t be wisebecause the tears could freeze on her cheeks and it’d be too uncomfortable. That’s a lie. She doesn’t want to cry because this time she’s truly scared. She doesn’t want to cry because crying wouldmake this real. She doesn’t want to cry because the last time they froze ineach other’s arms without knowing if they’d make it, she promised herself she’dtell him how she feels before it happens again.
It’s happening again.
She hasn’t told him how she feels.
She’s stopped herself from barreling through the door andinto the blinding snow too many times to count. It would be a death sentence, and she knows it. He was the one with the warmer coat, theboots, the longer legs, she reminds herself.
Those damn long legs are the last thing she saw of him,disappearing bit by gangly bit into the storm.
He carried her through the snow once with those long ganglylegs.
Her chin quivers and this time the tears come. “He’s fine. He’s okay,” she chokes against the glass. The stages of hypothermia and frostbite marchrelentlessly through her head. He couldlose his toes, his fingertips… She gulpsback a sob at the thought of never again feeling his fingertips against thesmall of her back. Of never feeling them on—
“Shut up,” she hisses out loud. He’s fine. He’s FINE. She lurches from herperch at the window. Staring out intothe void is slowly driving her mad. Shepaces the few hundred feet of the cabin until she’s sweating. If she can keep herself warm enough, thensomehow, somehow, maybe he’ll feelthat warmth, too.
She can’t lose him.
Each lap brings her back to the window. One, two, five, ten. She plays games, tells herself on lap fifteen,she’s allowed to look out again, on lap twenty-two, she’s allowed to pause—justfor a minute, just to make sure, make absolutesure, she doesn’t see something out there. The game progresses. On lapthirty, she’s allowed to think about his eyes, lap thirty-six, his nose, lapforty-four, his lips… By lap fifty-three,the tears are once again streaming down her cheeks.
She CAN’T lose him.
She collapses back into the seat in front of the window, herpanting breaths visible in the cold air. It’s starting to get dark, and she knows then. She knows:
Just because she can’tlose him doesn’t mean she won’t.
She feels weak. Shecloses her eyes, squeezes them shut and presses the heels of her palms againstthem until she sees stars. Leaning forward, she lays her forehead on theglass and welcomes the icy cold on her skin. She deserves it. She deserves to be just as cold as heis. In fact, she needs it.
Rising, she goes to the door and flings it open. The blast of frigid air knocks her back, but sherecovers and keeps going. She steps intothe snow, up past her knees, lets the cold seep its way into her jacket, furtherbeneath her clothes, until it’s worming its icy fingers all the way down to herbones. She unzips her jacket and tossesit into the snow. Let her feel it. Let her feel it, dammit! Let her take every ounce of this cold intoher body and away from him.
It’s hard to breathe. The air is sucked right from her lungs as soon as she opens her mouth. That doesn’t stop her. She screams, with every piece of strength shecan find, into the void. “MULDERRRRR!”
Then she does it again. And again. Until her throat aches. She crumbles to her knees and remembers the little match girl, freezingto death with her matches clutched to her palm. She lies there, the image flirting dangerously with her sanity.
She thinks she’s hallucinating when it first appears—adistant black blur in the now-gray flurry of snow. Climbing to her feet, she peers across thelandscape. The shape grows more distinct,draws closer. A snowmobile. “Muld…,” she gasps. She doesn’t want to hope, but her heart is poundinginside her chest.
Closer, closer, the red of his jacket suddenly becomingclear enough that she has no doubts. Shesobs his name, starts running toward the vehicle. The engine stops and he stumbles down, icelacing the fur of his jacket, his eyebrows white above his scarf.
“Mulder, my god,” she says, “You need to get inside.” She pulls him into the cabin, tugging off hisfrozen extra layers and brushing the ice from his clothes as well as she canwith her own freezing hands. When she’s sure he’s okay, absolutely sure he’salive and standing before her, she gives in to the emotions, allowing the tearsto run down her cheeks as she pulls him close. “Mulder,” she chokes against hischest.
“I’m here,” his voice cracks through shivering lips. He wraps his arms around her. But it’s not enough. She needs to feel his heart beat, needs toknow there’s still some warmth that’s been spared by the brutal cold. She ripsopen his jacket and snakes her arms beneath the down, grips her fingers intothe wool of his sweater.
Warm. He’s warm inthere.
“My god, Mulder, I was so worried. I thought…,” her voice is muffled as sheducks her head against his chest. Shekisses him there, presses her lips to his heart through wool and skin andbone. He’s here. She can’t stop touching him, her hands kneadinghis back then traveling back to his chest, up to his shoulders, lacingthemselves finally around his neck. Shepulls him down and presses a desperate kiss to his ear. “I thought…,” she chokes, and he grips herharder, his fingers sliding into her hair to cradle her skull. His fingertips… they’re okay.
“Shh,” he hushes.
“I thought I lost you,” she whispers and kisses him again,this time at his cheekbone. His skin is coldagainst her lips, and she threads her fingers through his hair in order to pullhim even closer. “I can’t…” Another kiss, this one at his jaw, even moredesperate. She murmurs his name as herlips slide across his skin, kisses coming faster and closer together. She’s powerless to stop them. There’s a momentum, one that’s been buildingfor hours, for months, for years. There’s a promise she made to herself, duringanother snow. There’s Mulder, here,alive, and breathing her name.
Their lips meet first by accident, then again not byaccident at all. They meet on purpose, desperately,frantically, with a heat that belies any amount of cold still left between them. Again. And again. Tongues and lips and teeth, whimpers and moans—there’s anurgency between them she’s never felt before, one that grows with every touch,every taste. She realizes she’ll neverhave enough of him. She’ll never besatisfied. She grips the back of hisneck and tries anyway.
He breaks away with a gasp, pressing his lips to herforehead, smoothing his fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, embarrassed, “I just—“ She tries to pull away, but he holds herthere.
“No,” he murmurs. “Christ,Scully, I’ve wanted… for so long…” He leansdown, cupping her jaw and stroking her cheeks with this thumb. “But let’s get out of here first. I brought extra gear for you, and there’senough fuel to get back into town. Iwant…" He looks into her eyes. “If we’redoing this, Scully, I want to do it right.”
She takes his hand in hers, turning her cheek to press herlips to his palm. “It’s right, Mulder. You’rehere. It’s right.” She thinks of Antarctica, holding his limpbody to hers on the ice. She thinks ofthe little match girl, how close she herself came to succumbing to a similarfate.
He’s here. He’s okay.
They make their way back out into the snow.
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Half Blood, Whole Heart: Part 33
Pairings: Jax x Reader, sister Winchester!reader- SOA/SPN Crossover
Warnings: Swearing, fluff
Word Count: 4,156
A/N: So I decided to repost my novel- the story that someone stole from my old blog and put up on Wattpad. PLEASE don’t be an asshole and steal my stories. It CRUSHED me when it happened and almost ran me off Tumblr.
A/N 2: Alright y’all. This is the last part of the story! You made it!!! You just have this one and the epilogue! Yay!!!!
Half Blood, Whole Heart Masterlist Aesthetic by @ravenangel33
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chibs, who was now wearing some of Jax’s winter clothes, looked at the four of you as he tried to process everything that had happened in the past year with Gemma, Clay, Juice, RICO and what you could tell him about the supernatural world.
“So… this means I’m free… but dead?” He asked as you rocked yourself on your chair.
“Same as us. This is a small town; people don’t ask questions. You’ll be safe here.” Opie said as he lit a cigarette.
“Sam can get you a public identity when he gets here tonight. I can talk to Bobby, see if he has it in his budget to hire you on as a mechanic in the warmer months. Cash, off the record, so you don’t exist.” You said.
“In the winter, Ope and I fix snowmobiles and do the mobile mechanic thing around town. We do a lot of shoveling for the people out here. We’re working on getting a snow plow for these back roads since we are really far out here.” Jax told him.
“And you’re more than welcome to stay in either our guest room or (Y/N)’s.” Lyla chipped in as she rocked next to you; her hand slowly dancing across her large baby bump. “But our daughter is due next week so it might be a little quieter here.”
“’It’s a lot to take in, we know.” You said as you tried to read Chibs’ nearly blank stare.
“Sorry… ‘m still tryin’ ta wrap my ‘ead round this all.” He said as he pulled a cigarette out of the pack on the railing. “I can’t believe ye’s all are alive.” You huffed a laughed as you looked up at Jax, who was leaning on the rail in front of you.
“God, you have no idea.”
“Hey, are you expecting someone?” Opie asked as the sound of a car pulling into your driveway caught your attention. Your brow furrowed and you shook your head.
“Not until tonight.” You said as you tried to see around Ope. You realized that that wasn’t happening and straightened your legs out to stand up.
“Holy shit… it’s Dean.” Your stomach soared as you leapt from your chair. Your brother got out of the car with an almost cocky smile.
“Miss me?” You were just about to run down the stairs to greet him when the passenger got out of the car. The whole world ceased to exist as John looked over the top of the car at you and you came to a dead stop on the top of the stairs.
“Daddy?” You whispered into your hands as tears welled in your eyes. Reason went out the window as you ran down the snow covered steps in your socks, slipping slightly as you hit the bottom.
“Hi sweetheart.” Your dad said as you ran and jumped into his arms as tears poured down your cheeks.
“How are you here?” You asked as you wiggled to get down; instantly regretting your choice as you landed in ankle deep snow.”No, pick me up! Pick me up!” You shrieked as you tried to jump on the hood of the car to get away from the cold.
“Amara brought him back. Said since I gave her her family back I should get the same thing.” Dean said as he headed up porch with John carrying you on his back right behind him. “Where’s Sam?”
“On his way. Have you talked to him?” You said as your dad put you down.
“Don’t have a phone. Figured he’d come here since he thought I was dead.”
“Jesus Christ, this day is getting weirder and weirder.” Jax said.
“Yea, you’re tellin… Holy shit, Chibs!” Dean said as he finally noticed his old friend.
“Dean-o. ‘ow are ye, lad?” Dean shrugged as they gave each other a back slapping hug.
“I mean, I almost blew myself up this morning so I guess I’m doing OK.”
“Aye. Died my self ‘parently. Wee bit confused ta say the least.” Dean laughed and nodded.
“Yea, tends to happen when you know the Winchesters now-a-days. Can we go inside? That piece of shit car didn’t have a heater.”
“Umm… Ree is in there with the boys.” You said as Dean moved to open the door. You watched a slight blush creep up Dean’s ears as he looked over at you.
“Shut up, Button.” He snapped at your knowing smirk. You raised your hands and pursed your lips.
“Didn’t say nothing, De.”
“Boys?” John asked as everyone headed inside. You nodded as you laced your arm through his.
“Your grandsons. Thomas is three and John turns one tomorrow.” You told him softly as you walked him inside to your little war zone.
“No!” Thomas screamed from upstairs over the sound of running bath water; his least favorite thing in the world these days. He would much prefer taking a shower like a big kid.
“Thomas. You have chocolate in your hair…” Crowley tried to reason with the three year old.
“No! Big boy bath!”
“I got it…” Jax sighed as he headed toward the stairs.
“Well I was going to make lunch before everything got a little crazy so I’m hoping grilled cheese sandwiches are OK with everyone because I don’t have anything else.” You said as you looked around at your visitors.
“I’ll help. Ope, you wanna start a fire in the living room and help Dean fill in gaps for Chibs and John?” Lyla said as she looked at her husband expectantly. He nodded as Dean toed off his boots and made himself comfortable in your home like he always did.
“De, call Sammy!” You said as you pulled off your wet socks and headed into the kitchen to see Crowley there looking as confused as ever.
“Dean and John are back from the dead?” He asked softly as he peaked out of the kitchen toward the living room.
“Dean apparently never died. Amara… who I’m assuming is the Darkness, brought dad back as thanks for her getting her family back…?” You said; your words trailing up in a question as you didn’t know what that really meant to begin with. Crowley nodded.
“Well, that’s an interesting twist of events. That would explain as to where Chuck went.” You looked over your shoulder at him as you grabbed butter and cheese out of your fridge.
“Who the hell is Chuck?” Crowley chuckled as Lyla started laying out pieces of bread to get buttered.
“That, kitten, is what God chooses to be called these days.”
“Oh, for the love of… fuck…” You grumbled with a small shake of your head.
“Wait, you met God?” Lyla asked as she plugged in your griddle.
“We fought his sister together, darling. Of course I’ve met him.”
“So how’s your relationship going?” You asked; trying to avoid having to admit to your best friend that you had been lying by omission for the past 5 months. You looked at Crowley pointedly; giving him the silent and subtle clue to take your hint.
“Oh! Well… that is… not… something I wish to discuss with you, kitten. It’s rather personal and…”
“Are you still fucking him on the DL or what?” You asked flat out; causing Lyla to snort with laughter. Crowley’s cheeks flared red. He opened his mouth to respond, snapping it closed a second later as he looked at his nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the entire world.
“Frankly, darling that’s none of your business.”
“That’s a yes.” Lyla giggled as the two of you flipped sandwiches.
“Wretched women… I hate both of you.” Crowley said before he disappeared.
“I can’t believe he and Dean…”
“Who and Dean?” Jax asked as he walked in to the kitchen with a clean son on each hip. “Figured you would wanna do the introductions with this one.” He said as he bobbed his head toward Thomas.
“Crowley and Dean are still doin’ it.” You said as you started stacking finished grilled cheese sandwiches on a plate. You paused for a moment and turned around to look at Jax and shook your head. “How the hell do we explain this one?”
“Now you see why I said you could do it.” You rolled your eyes as Lyla unplugged the griddle and put the rest of the sandwiches on the stack. With a heavy sigh, you walked over and took your oldest from Jax. With a small shake of your head you pulled something out of thin air that you hoped made sense to a child.
“Hey Tommy… you know how grandpa John went to live with the angels before you were born? Well, Uncle Dean and Uncle Sam helped the angels and God with some big things recently. The angels decided that because they were so helpful, they would let grandpa come back to us so he could meet you and your brother and watch you grow up.” Your son crinkled his face, thinking hard about this new information.
“Are the angels letting everyone go back to their families?” He asked.
“Umm… no baby, just grandpa. And it’s only this one time.”
“Why?” You blanched and looked at Jax; realizing that there was no easy way to answer this question.
“Because your Uncle Dean gave God his family back.” Lyla stepped in. “And God didn’t want your mommy to raise you without your grandpa. So he did what is called a favor. That’s something grown ups do to help someone out when they do something for each other.” Your son stayed quiet for an unusually long time; processing the information. You looked back and forth between Lyla and Jax, wondering what he was thinking before he nodded.
“I should make God a thanks card. Dat’s what I gotta do for Santa when he brings gifts, too.” You all laughed and nodded as Jax kissed the side of his son’s head proudly.
“Yea, that’s a good idea. Maybe you and grandpa can even make it together so you can both thank him.” You suggested.
“Is he good at crafts like papa?” You nodded as you thought about your dad’s amazing artistic ability.
“Grandpa is amazing at crafts.” You said as you grabbed the plate of sandwiches and headed toward the living room. “You should ask him nicely to draw you a tiger.” Thomas cheered as you stopped in the doorway of your living room and looked at your dad. “Tommy, this is your grandpa.” You said as you set the plate down on the table and sat on the arm of the couch next to your dad.
“Grandpa draw a tiger for da card?” Tommy asked as he crawled out of your lap and into John’s. Your dad looked a little startled and chuckled.
“I think I can draw a tiger. What’s the card for?”
“We gots to thanks God for letting you come back to mommy. You gots ta make a card for a gift.” Your dad’s eyes shot up to yours and you gave him a smile.
“Those are the rules in this house. Get a gift, you write a thank you card.” Your dad’s eyes filled with tears and he nodded as he looked back at his grandson.
“Yea… we can make a card.” Thomas smiled and wiggled off John’s lap.
“OK. I go gets the papers.” He said as he darted out of the room to the play room you had down stairs. Your dad smiled and put his hand on your knee as everyone grabbed a sandwich.
“And this little guy is your and my dad’s namesake.” Jax said as he passed off your youngest to your dad.
“He looks like you.” Your dad said as he looked back and forth between his other grandson and you. “Little bit of Sam as well.” You nodded as Jax grabbed two sandwiches and handed you one.
“He may look like me but he has Jax’s personality. Tommy is mini me.” You said as your oldest came running back with a stack of papers and his box of crayons and colored pencils. Your dad nodded as Thomas push all his stuff on the couch and used your dad’s jeans to pull himself on the cushion next to him, causing John to laugh.
“Oh yea. He is just like you.” He said as he helped his grandson up.
“Give me the wee one. I need ta love the little bugger.” Chibs said as he stood up and reached across the coffee table for little John. You smiled at your family; the dysfunctional chaos that it was.
“World almost ends and we get a grandparent and one of our friends back because of it.” Jax whispered in your ear. You smiled and nodded as you wrapped your arm around his waist.
“I call that a Teller win.”
——
The smell of bacon and something burning woke you up way too early for your liking the next morning. Your brow furrowed as you looked to the other side of your bed at your sleeping husband. You knew Chibs wasn’t an early riser so that left one of the three Winchester men. As quietly as you could, you slipped out of bed and headed down stairs. You could hear grumbling that you immediately recognized as your fathers as the smell of strong coffee slammed into your senses.
“Daddy? What are you doing?” You asked as you leaned against the door way, rubbing sleep out of your eyes. John turned around to look at you with a sour look on his face.
“Your pans are stupid.” You giggled as you walked into the kitchen and looked at the stove.
“First of all, they are not stupid, they are amazing.” You reached in front of him and turned the burner he was using for what you assumed had to be pancakes down from ‘high’ to ‘medium’ with a smile. “Second, they are teflon. Non-meat foods cook on medium so the whole thing cooks not just the outside.”
“That explains it.” He said as he scooped up the pancake he was burning onto a pile of other burnt ones on a plate to his right.
“Third, I have a fancy griddle to cook pancakes on. Has a pancake temp in the book and everything.” He hummed at the new information as he grabbed the bowl of batter and started in on a new pancake. You pat his shoulder and headed over to make yourself a cup of coffee.
“You know… I don’t think I have cooked on an actual stove in thirty somethin’ years.” He said as he flipped the bacon in a different pan. “Diner food, fast food… Mary, the corp… I never really had to.”
“Well, you are more than welcome to stick around here and practice if you want.” You hopped up on the counter next to the stove out of the mess as he looked over at you.
“Thanks, princess. I appreciate that.” You nodded as you took a sip of your coffee; letting it warm you from the inside. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.” He said as he flipped the pancake over; his brow knit in frustrated thought. “After Mary the only thing I had going was the fight. I ruined my kids lives because of it…”
“Dad, you didn’t ruin our lives…” He looked up at you with a serious ‘Sam bitch face’ and you quickly chewed on your bottom lip to keep from laughing as you realized that John was the originator of the look.
“One of my sons ran away to college to get away from me and two years after that, my only daughter did too. Don’t tell me I didn’t ruin your life.” You shook your head as you set your coffee mug down.
“You didn’t. If I hadn’t run away, I would have never met Jax and had my sons. My brothers wouldn’t be the strong, determined, crazy, independent men they are now. Sure, we were a little different from most families but from where I sit today- 27 years old with a beautiful family, a job, a house… I wouldn’t trade anything about my life to get me to where I am right now. So if anything you gave me this.” You gestured around the kitchen, indicating your life before you picked your coffee back up and took another sip.
“Yea… well, still. Now my fight is over but according to your brothers there is still a fight out there…”
“There will always be a fight, daddy. The question that I had to ask myself years ago was is it worth it?” He looked up at you; the fighter in him obvious in his gaze and you sighed. “Not what I meant it to sound like.” You put your coffee mug down and tucked your hands under your thighs as you took a moment to collect your thoughts. “I don’t know if it was just because I’m not Mary’s daughter or if the hunting life was never really meant for me but I always looked at what you and my brothers did as not my fight… because it wasn’t. It was yours to avenge the love of your life and theirs to avenge their mother. My mother was just a piece of shit; nothing I can do about that.
Now that your revenge is done, you find yourself in my shoes. Sam and Dean have managed to find themselves in a fight with Lucifer… again. It’s not your fight, daddy. You don’t have to hunt with them. You said it yourself yesterday, this must be God’s way of giving you a second chance. You raised them right as hunters. They can handle this fight like they did the first time. You don’t have to take on the responsibility if you don’t want to nor do you have to feel guilty if you choose not to.”
“She’s right, dad.” Dean said as he leaned against the door frame of your kitchen with Sam right behind him. “If you want to stay and help raise your grandsons and be the parent you couldn’t be for us because of the circumstances, we don’t blame you and we won’t stop you. Shit, Sam and I want you to stay.”
“We don’t hate you for raising us how you did. It was the cards you were dealt. It prepared us for the things we face today in and out of the hunting world. But we also know that if you had the option when we were babies, you wouldn’t have wanted that life for us. You would have wanted the life (Y/N) has made for herself for us.” Sam said as he stepped into the kitchen past Dean and leaned on the counter next to you facing John. “We may butt heads more than territorial goats but you were the best father I could ever ask for. It just took me a while to realize it. Minus, you know, the giving your kids guns for Christmas at the age of nine to protect us from bad Santa but that’s a different story all together.” The four of you chuckled as Dean brought Sam a cup of coffee and stood by his side.
“Like I said, all we are saying is that if you want to take the second chance that you were given to be with your grandsons, do it. Sam and I; we got this. Lucifer will be back in his cage in no time. And no extreme measures will be taken to do so.” Dean said as he glanced at you with a knowing smile.
“Yea, better not.” You grumbled with a smirk as you grabbed your coffee and took another sip before looking back at your father. “And if you choose to go with them, I won’t take it personally… you are a hunter after all. Your truck is in the garage. The gun in the glove compartment was replaced by coloring books and Cheerio boxes and the photos have all been updated but the weapons box is still loaded and I’ve taken care of her.”
“You still have my truck?” John asked as he added another perfectly cooked pancake to the growing stack.
“Yep. I had Bobby bring it to me after you died and I’ve had it ever since. Had to replace the carburetor and the transmission last year and she’s a bitch to find parts for... but it was yours. It’s come in handy over the years, too; Jax loves it in the winter but we can get a new one.”
“Keep it.” He said with a small shake of his head. “I can get one from the lot… if you’ll help me rebuild it.” He looked up at you hopefully. You nodded with a genuine smile.
“Yea… I’d like that.” He nodded his head and glanced over at his sons before going back to making breakfast.
“So, uh… can I get some of that bacon?” Dean asked as he craned his neck to look at the pan. You rolled your eyes as you jumped off the counter.
“There goes De and his no chick-flick moment rule.” Sam grumbled as you headed toward the stairs to get your youngest before he woke up and started crying.
“Somethin’ burnin’?” Chibs asked as he walked out of the room that was designated as the play room.
“My dad didn't know how to use a teflon pan. It’s OK; there’s coffee, pancakes and bacon.” Your friend moaned as he pulled a shirt that was way too big for him over his head.
“Real bed, real food. Cheers, I’m in ‘eaven.” You laughed as you shuffled upstairs and dipped into your room to throw on warm clothes to go out for a smoke.
“You’re up early.” Jax groaned as he rolled over in bed to watch you.
“Dad was trying to cook pancakes on ‘high’. Had to save the house from being burned down.” Jax huffed a laugh as you crawled across the bed and gave him a kiss. “Do you care if he sticks around for a while?”
“Nope…” Jax yawned as he rolled onto his back and stretched. “Two live-in sitters we trust… maybe we can try honeymoon take two.” You laughed as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down on top of him.
“I love you, baby but you shot me on our first honeymoon. I don’t think…” Your words were lost in a yelp as he tickled your sides and rolled you underneath him.
“God, you’re such a smart ass.” You smiled up at him as you tried to tame his wild bed head.
“You still love me.” You gave him a chaste kiss and pat his cheek. “Now, up you get. Our baby boy turns one today.”
“Where did time go?” Jax asked as he rolled off you and flopped back on the bed. “And with your dad moving in, we gotta start calling him Johnny or something so we don’t confuse the two.” You looked over your shoulder as you pulled your bra into place with a half mouth smirk.
“I think it would be a little strange for you to call my dad Johnny, babe.” You dodged the first pillow expertly but the second one hit you square in the back.
“I hate you sometimes.” You smiled as you tossed the pillows back on the bed and walked over to his dresser to grab one of his long-sleeved SAMCRO t-shirts that you loved to wear in the winter.
“I know you do. Now quit being lazy, we gotta head into town before people start comin’ over.”
“For what?” Jax asked as he rolled out of bed and grabbed a shirt from the drawer you were closing.
“Chibs needs clothes. I know Bobby has my dad’s old stuff but you, Ope, my brothers and my dad are all too broad for that man to borrow clothes from. I’ll just use one of Sam’s cards. And with two people moving in, we need more food.” Jax shrugged as he headed toward the bathroom.
“I’ll stay here. You can take him.” You shrugged as John started to fuss over the baby monitor.
“Have fun hanging out with Dean, then. No fighting.” Your husband popped his head out and shook his head.
“On second though, you may need my help… carrying shit.” You laughed as you headed out of your room to get the birthday boy with a smile on your face. You hesitated for a moment outside the door and looked up at the ceiling.
“Thank you.” You whispered softly to the mystery man and woman you now fully believed in who gave you part of your family back. With a small nod, you stepped into the room and cooed at your youngest pride and joy.
Epilogue
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Day One: It’s Not a Date!
Alice didn’t know exactly when their parents had gotten so obsessed with their love life, but good Lord was it annoying. There was no need for their mom to be this involved with their outing with a friend. And, okay, maybe Alice did like her. A little. Maybe more than a little. But Ayala didn’t feel the same way and their relationship would never be anything more than friends and Alice was perfectly content for it to stay that way. Even if Ayala had the prettiest hands Alice had ever seen and making her laugh made Alice’s stomach do little jumps they were sure couldn’t be healthy. So, when they’d found out their friend had never gone ice skating Alice had been determined to take her. And for this determination to be a good friend, Alice was being rewarded by their mother knocking quietly on their bedroom door and letting herself in.
Alice didn’t look up from the charcoal drawing they were working on as their mother perched on the end of their bed. “Hi, honey.”
“Hey, mom.”
“When are you leaving?”
“Um, I don’t quite know. Ayala’s going to text me when services are over and I’m gonna pick her up at the synagogue.”
“And you have everything you need?”
“Yes, mom, for the millionth time I have everything we’ll need.”
“Okay, well, I just want to make sure. I know that after the whole Elena thing you were…you were scared of this, but I think Ayala will be good for you. I think she already has been.”
“Mom, oh my God, for the last time it’s not a date!”
Their mother regarded her child sympathetically. “Of course not, honey. But if it were, you could always tell us.”
At that moment Alice’s phone chirped and they quickly set down their charcoal, dusting off their hands and checking the notification. “I know, mom. I gotta go now, we’ll be home before dark.”
“Is she staying the night?”
“No, her parents have a work thing tonight, they’re gonna pick her up afterward.”
“Okay, I love you. Have fun.”
“Love you too, mom.” Alice hopped out of their desk chair and gave their mom a quick one-armed hug before rushing out of the room. After a few moments, their mom stood up and walked over to the desk across the room, smiling sadly at the drawing of the familiar girl Alice had left open on their desk.
When Ayala slid into the passenger seat of Alice’s dad’s truck her cheeks and nose were tinged pink with the cold and she shivered slightly. Alice admonished her for not dressing for the weather with a laugh, handing their own scarf over and turning up the heat in the car.
“Winters are rainy where I come from, Alice!”
“Well, that’s why I’m here to teach you how to deal with a real winter.” After about half an hour Alice parked next to the fence surrounding their aunt and uncle’s sugar beet fields and reached into the seat behind them to grab the bag containing the ice skates before climbing out of the truck and walking around the front to give Ayala a hand down.
Ayala shut the door of the truck gently, turning around and stopping in her tracks. “Wait, this isn’t your house. Where are we?”
Alice fumbled with their key ring, finally landing on a small silver key they inserted into the padlock and unlocked it, pushing the gate open. “It’s my aunt and uncle’s farm. Don’t worry, I told them we were coming over. There’s a river in the woods behind the fields that’s good for ice skating, my cousins and I used to race each other on it.”
Ayala smiled fondly. “That feels very Little Women.”
“Don’t tell Jimmy and Jacob that, they’d be livid.”
Ayala laughed and Alice’s heart danced, and fifteen minutes later both were sitting on a fallen tree tying their skates on.
Ayala regarded the ice Alice stood on warily, narrowing her eyes at the bumps on the surface. “Is this safe?”
“It’s a good six inches, it’ll hold your weight and mine three times.”
“How do you know?”
“’Cuz about three inches to the left are snowmobile tracks and those things are far heavier than we are. Come on, you can hold onto me for support.”
After a few more moments hesitation, Ayala stepped onto the ice, trying not to lose her balance before reaching Alice. Upon reaching them, Ayala clung to Alice’s bicep, not trusting her legs to keep her upright.
“Okay. Now what?”
“Now I’m going to start skating, you keep holding on and copy what I’m doing. The balance is in your hips and stomach.” Slowly, Alice started skating circles on the river with Ayala holding onto them for dear life. “Ayala, you need to move your legs.”
“Yep.”
“…You’re still not moving your legs.”
“Nope.”
Stopping short, Alice turned around and held Ayala by the shoulders. “You okay?”
“Mostly.”
“Ayala, I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you, y’know. You’re safe on this river and you’re safe with me.”
“I know, I know. Can we just…try again?”
“Of course.”
—
An hour later Ayala tentatively let go of Alice to glide on her own, only making it a few feet before her skate hit a dip in the ice and she jerked forward and would have slammed into ice had Alice not dove forward to catch her. They hefted her to a standing position by the waist, struggling to not send both of them careening down the river.
“You alright there?”
“Yeah, a little shaken but I’m fine.”
Realizing how they were holding Ayala, by the waist and close to their own body, Alice quickly retracted their arms and turned around, skating over to their backpack to check the time and not noticing the disappointed look Ayala sent after them. “We should be heading back soon, it’s almost 4:30 and I told mom we’d be back before it was dark out.”
Letting out an almost inaudible sigh, Ayala agreed and carefully made her way over to where Alice was switching out their skates for boots and doing the same.
—
Around nine the doorbell rang and Alice, already standing, went to answer it. Upon opening the door, they found a tall blonde man in a thick woolen jacket and scarf who blinked at them like he couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong with the image in front of him. “You’re not Ayala.”
“No.”
“You the date?”
“What?”
Alice didn’t have time to try and comprehend what the man had said before all five feet and three inches of Ayala Shafir barreled past them and pushed the man back off the porch. “Björn get back in the car right fucking now or so help me-“
The man laughed, pushing his long hair out of his face. “Alright, alright, I’m going. And hey, Alice, right? Just kiss her already, she won’t shut up about you.”
“Björn!”
He feigned a face of regret before giving Alice a little wave and trudging back to the car waiting outside.
“Was…that your dad?”
Ayala whirled around, shock and blush staining her cheeks. “No! Björn runs the LGBT shelter I..volunteer at. My parents’ thing ran late and he said he would pick me up.”
“Oh. So. You talk about me all the time?”
“I’m sorry if that makes today weird, I swear I really am okay with us just being friends I just really care about you and-“Ayala made a muffled surprised noise as Alice’s lips clumsily met her own for a few too-quick seconds. “Oh.”
“I think today was a pretty good unofficial first date.”
Ayala nodded speechlessly, her lips still tingling, but was startled out of her daze by the sound of a car horn honking. “I should…go.”
Alice nodded, barely able to keep the disappointment from showing on their face.
“But, let’s do this again? When we both know what’s really happening.”
“I would love that.”
Ayala smiled all the way out to the car, ignoring the smug look on Björn’s face when she slid into the passenger seat.
@yourbookcouldbegayer
prompt was two of your characters are going ice skating. It’s not a date- they swear it - but everyone, including their friends, thinks it is.
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[FIC] if money can’t buy happiness
After Alejandro is eliminated from All-Stars, he and Heather have important matters to discuss.
this is my excessively late TD secret santa gift for @heathersuoh ! (i am so, so sorry about how late this is. i hope you like it anyways!)
[AO3] [FFN]
The sight of Heather stepping off the snowmobile that had just driven up in front of Alejandro brought warmth to his heart. He felt himself smiling, and he no longer felt the freezing cold as deeply as he did before.
She slapped him, which he probably should have seen coming. Even the sting of the slap didn't faze him, however. "I missed you too," he said, gazing at her gorgeous visage.
"Shut up and get on the snowmobile," Heather said, but she was smiling.
Heather drove them to a nearby lodge, at which Alejandro was given towels and warm, dry clothes to change into while Heather returned the snowmobile. When she came back, they sat in the lobby, by a roaring fire, with complimentary hot cocoa.
"So," Heather finally said, picking up her mug, "you got me eliminated... and then you didn't even win."
"Yes, well," said Alejandro, still shivering a little despite the dry clothes and the crackling fire, "I... may have... misidentified the biggest threat to me this season."
She smirked. "Glad you admit it, at least."
"As if you saw Mal coming."
"Maybe I would have, if you hadn't eliminated me!"
They glared at each other for a moment, before Alejandro softened. "I did miss you."
"So maybe don't eliminate me next time, then."
"And let you eliminate me instead? That won't happen." He took a sip of his hot cocoa. "But alas, for the time being neither of us are in the game, so all this is a bit moot."
Heather crossed her arms. "I guess."
"Which brings me to: what do we do now?"
Heather sighed. "Since Chris claimed the Playa Des Losers for himself this season, us losers have been stuck at a hotel on the mainland. Which I guess is a good thing, since Duncan apparently blew up the Playa."
Alejandro chuckled. "Indeed he did."
"Anyways," she continued, "we'll be staying here tonight, and then flying back to Muskoka in the morning."
"Sounds like a plan. One more question..." He leaned forward. "Were you selected to come get me, or did you volunteer?"
The blush on Heather's face told him all he needed to know. "Shut up and drink your cocoa," she snapped.
"Of course," he said, smirking.
The evening drawing to a close, Heather brought Alejandro up to their room. "Since you were recently flushed down a toilet, I'll be nice and give you the first shower." Her wrinkled expression indicated that her motivations were probably less about generosity and more about Alejandro's smell, which had intensified now that they were in close quarters. "But you better not use up all the hot water, or you are dead." She glared daggers at him to emphasize this point.
Alejandro smirked. "Gracias," he said. The shower was a welcome respite after the disgusting toilet and the frozen waters of the Yukon. He considered prolonging the shower for longer than necessary - Heather was beautiful when she was angry - but decided against it. He wanted to be on her good side, for once.
When Heather stepped out of the bathroom, clad in a tank top and pajama pants, she saw Alejandro sitting patiently in one of the chairs and immediately narrowed her eyes. "What is it?" she demanded. When he quirked an eyebrow, she explained, "You have this look in your eye. Like you want something. So?"
"A question," said Alejandro. "Remember when I told you that our love meant more than any game?"
Heather scoffed, sitting down in the chair across from him. "You only said that because you thought you'd won already. You thought you'd beaten me, and that I would accept you as some kind of consolation prize. Of course our love meant 'more than a game' if you were winning the game."
Alejandro hesitated. "I underestimated you," he admitted. "I know better, now. And I still mean what I said then." He looked Heather in the eye. "Our love transcends this competition. We're out of the game, away from the cameras, with no chance at the prize. But I want to be with you anyways. If you'll let me."
His words hung in the air for a minute.
"All this time," Heather finally said, "I've been beyond pissed that you had the nerve to eliminate me. But. I did... want to see you." She stopped, blushing, then continued, "To be honest, I... thought I threw away my chances with you in Hawaii. Not that I regret it! But I didn't think that you'd forgive me, after that."
"I do forgive you," he said. "If you'll forgive me for eliminating you in All-Stars, which I think you'll agree is a... more minor issue, in comparison."
She hesitated, then grumbled, "Alright, fine. I forgive you."
"Gracias. With that said, let me ask you again. Heather, do you want us to be together?"
"Yes," Heather said, a slow smile appearing on her face. "Yes."
"Then come over here and kiss me," Alejandro said, as roguishly as he could manage.
"Only if you don't use tongue," Heather fired back. "I don't know if anyone's ever told you, but sticking your tongue right down a girl's throat is not pleasant."
"I'll keep that in mind," said Alejandro, and Heather abruptly stood up and strode over to him, sliding onto his lap and pressing her lips to his.
The second kiss they'd ever shared was softer, warmer, than the first. The first had begun in passion and ended in a knee to the gonads; the second was romantic, sweet. He reveled in the feeling of her warm mouth on his, in the sensation of her hand resting on his neck and her body draped across his lap.
Finally, Heather pulled away. "It's late," she said. "We have to get up early to make the flight tomorrow."
"Of course," said Alejandro.
She reluctantly got off of him and stood. "My bed's the one by the window," she said. "The other one's yours."
"Why not share?"
Her eyes narrowed. "If you think I'm fucking you right away, you have another thing coming."
"Ah, no - that was not my intention, I promise. I meant that we could just... cuddle."
Heather blinked. "Oh. That's... we could do that."
They settled into bed, Alejandro lying on his back and Heather hesitantly cuddling up next to him. After a few minutes of shuffling around to find a comfortable position, Heather finally relaxed, head resting on Alejandro's chest, arm draped across his torso.
Alejandro stayed awake for a while, drinking in the feeling of Heather's warm body lying across his, a sensation he wanted to treasure, to revel in for as long as he could. Eventually, though, he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer, and drifted away to dreamland, still smiling.
if money can’t buy happiness
then why is it so fabulous?
— That Poppy, “Money”
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The Body Positivity Movement
Or the Ashley Graham Effect.
Recently, Ashely Graham went undercover on Undercover Boss: Celebrity Edition, in order to help out some deserving people she’d found through social media that were plus sized and wanted to be models, run non-profits and do dance. And I’ll be honest, I don’t watch a lot of Undercover Boss, in fact the last one I watched was the Bridal Store episode, you know, the Bridal chain that has subsequently filed for bankruptcy and gone out of business. Most of the episodes don’t interest me.
Watching Ashley Graham go undercover into the fashion world was a cringe worthy experience. She knew what she was getting into. She knew exactly what she was getting into and she still (hopefully mostly for the cameras) got a bit cheesed off. I admire her grit and tenacity and applaud what she’s doing, even if it’s a big disingenuous for her to be going on something titled “Undercover Boss.” Because the open call she went to at the model agency, she didn’t own that modelling agency. She couldn’t walk back in and rip that guy with the European accent a new one about representation and that’s not the way we do things here. Not in 2018.
Ashley Graham is at most a major influencer (she’s been on Top Model, they’ve made her into a Barbie and so on.) The most that showing that on National Television will do is hopefully shame that agency into rethinking their policies. Because that agency and that policy of not hiring plus sized models is the normal and not the exception.
Being a “body positive” or “body inclusive” company has been more of a marketing campaign for a long time. (Does anyone else remember that Dove soap campaign?) Rather than companies trying to honestly and realistically include and embrace a large group of people as their customers. Instead, they’ve been focusing on the small side of dead center. (Petite being another major ignored group of people. And if you’re plus sized and petite, yeah, um, you don’t exist to the fashion world.)
It’s hard for me to take this “movement” seriously when I get texts from my best friend about not being able to find clothes that fit at popular middle priced chain stores. I see it as a gimmick when it only brings up “embracing” every size instead of also pointing out there may be underlying causes to “every size” such as PCOS. When I know the reasons that brands aren’t “inclusive” because of numbers on a spread sheet.
The biggest cringe is that this has been going on for decades, in fact, we’re getting close to 50 years since Twiggy became a popular super model and changed the way designers and magazines thought about how fashion was presented on the runway and in fashion images. This isn’t the first time that the idea that designers don’t know how to work with normal or plus sized people has been exposed on public television. It’s been shown repeatedly on Project Runway and all other fashion programs like it. It’s been going on in America’s Next Top Model. And we’re finally, after over a decade of this, making some headway that models being 5 foot 11 and a standard size 6 is not healthy.
(I’m 5’2” and a standard size 4 on top and a 6 on bottom and let me tell you, I don’t always feel healthy! I’ve been mistaken for a model plenty of times and I go, “uh, I’m 5’2”, far too short. Sorry.)
My first real experience with this that sank in was over a decade ago now when I went to the Academy of Art and took my second Fashion Business class. (I had one at Bluffton Uni and it wasn’t named the same thing so I had to waste 3 hours of credit time and take it again.) Bluffton was a Mennonite small country college. Most the girls there were from Middle Class Christian Homes. (Yes, that’s all caps.) Going to the Academy, I met a completely different class of people. We were asked 2 questions that stuck out to me. One was “What is the STANDARD average size of the American consumer?” And the second was “Does anyone know what NASCAR is?” (This was around Cars so there was and wasn’t an excuse.) I knew the answer, second class after all (the first class at least wasn’t so far off in guesses,) the other girls didn’t and they didn’t know what NASCAR was either. The answer, over a decade ago was a standard size 12, btw. We are probably up to a standard size 16 for average, maybe an 18.
Marilyn Monroe was a standard size 12. I’m talking US standard 34, 27, 36 Bust, Waist, Hips in INCHES. (That’s 97, 69, 93 for you metric people.) The US does their sizing by 5cm increments, Europe by 4 to 6cm increments. But regular people don’t really fit these pretty measurements. They’re usually bigger on bottom than they are on top and thus a different size. (Despite all sizing done for brands being done to your BUST measurement. Funsies huh.)
Being from an upper middle class home in the middle of Upstate New York where the only more “country” you can get is to either a) live in a trailer park or b) live in the middle of nowhere. I was the ONLY one in that class to know what NASCAR was because that was Sunday afternoon for most my neighbors and my father’s friends. (And football, let’s not forget football. Then there’s hunting, snowmobiling and… fishing.)
My point is that a lot of fashion students and many fashion designers have no clue at all about the average American consumer and fashion programs are not engineered, designed or even remotely plugged into educating designers on how to design clothes for the “average” market. Despite the lip service to “average” size in my fashion business class. (Blocks were made to standard size 8, probably would have to redo them for size 6 later. Croqui fashion sketches were 9 heads tall and very thin with broad shoulders and no hips.) They’re isolated either by income class or being so down the rabbit hole of fashion magazines and imagery, they’ve lost sight of our Wal-Mart and Target standard consumer if they knew it to begin with! (Oh, Paris Hilton.) And if you want to see this in action watch any episode of Project Runway that involves “real women” and prepare to whimper or scream at the television.
People like Christine Hunsicker who started Gwynnie Bee that has clothes from size 10 to 32 (and now 0 to 32) are rare in the fashion industry. She’s fulfilling a niche that is grossly under served. Seeing her on PR: Fashion Startup was a breath of fresh air. When Project Runway put models of all sizes into the program, it was overdue! (Thank you Tim Gunn!) And the reactions to All Stars that was filmed at the same time, aired after that model inclusive normal seasons and didn’t have models of all sizes was telling. Viewers wanted to know why Project Runway looked like they were taking a step backwards.
Which was great, it was really great to see that reaction. It was amazing to see how much the audiences loved the different sized models.
(PR:AS weren’t, it’s just television fantasy that made them think that because of how filming a show works. No one at Project Runway was certain how the all sizes of models was going to work out with general audiences. They wanted a test run to see how ratings would do. Now, it's moving back to Bravo with the original producers for 2019. Fingers crossed!)
Back in the 1950s, when Marilyn Monroe was popular, fashion models were closer to Victoria Secret sized models than Twiggy (of late 1960s and of the 1970s fame.) Yes, the styles of the 50s did emphasize larger proportions more if not balanced correctly. But everyone wanted to be size 12 and have curves. And yeah, this is coming back and it’s a good thing. Being healthy, having realistic proportions, less photoshopping, less unrealistic expectations on both girls and boys. I am down with that.
The sad part is now, 50 years later, size 12, yes, TWELVE is considered “plus size” and thus, an entirely different fashion market than regular clothes. (Though some of this is due to vanity sizing and not standard sizing.) Many brands don’t want to go into plus sized clothing because it’s a huge material expense, despite the fact that if they provided cute, fashionable clothes to the plus sized market at a decent quality, they’d have a huge customer base.
(Clothing quality is going to be another blog post sometime. I hear this complaint a lot.)
Designers are going to have to be retrained. Design programs are going to have to be changed. Fashion drawing is going to have to be adjusted. Thinking that models are walking hangars that clothes are ‘displayed’ on is a mindset that’s going to have to go.
Runways were originally displays for buyers to see how the clothes would look on real people, real consumers. The ones that shopped at their stores. (So, you see now how attitudes like those of the CEO of Aeropostale and Abercrombie & Fitch started.)
I’m happy for the people Ashley Graham helped. I’m glad that we have models like Ashley Graham and that we have things such as Full Figured Fashion Week. I’ll be even happier when we stop making these false dichotomies and embrace every one of every size and don’t have “ideal looks/customers” related to size and skin color and just have “customers.” When models of all shapes, sizes and skin tones walk down every catwalk and we see it as normal that’s probably a fashion utopia.
Because right now it still feels like a marketing gimmick and that is beyond sad.
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