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[attr="class","ctopline"]You can be every little thing

[attr="class","cscriptministry"]you want nobody to know

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[attr="class","clyrics"]You can try to drown out the street below[break]
And you can call it love if you want

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[attr="class","cbody"]Another day in the Ministry. Another day where he had to put on a suit and go push politics and listen to everyone else in the Wizengamot whisper about what the International Confederation of Wizard’s presence in the United Kingdom would mean for them. Amongst that whispering, there was a fair bit of plotting and planning, most of which he was not privy to. Michael did not openly talk about his feelings on the Muggleborn registration, or on blood purity in general honesty. He could not jeopardize his family like that, by speaking out against what so many people in their circle believed in. That would be the sort of recklessness that he was not prone to.
[break][break]
Even though he didn’t speak out against it, he was hardly the first person that people came to when they wanted to talk about the purist agenda or what the Death Eaters were going to do next. He did not fully fit in with the rest of the Wizengamot. There was no doubt about that. There were still lighter families in the rank of the group, most of which were not going to associate with a Parkinson for obvious reasons. Then there were the purists and the Death Eaters. He could make nice and rub elbows with them—and did. The Parkinson name did mean something, after all. But he was not the first person that they came to with plots and plans up their sleeves. That was fine by him. He liked it much better when he didn’t have to hear what a lot of them had to say. Hearing those whispers tended to only make matters worse.
[break][break]
It had gotten a bit better once Minister Lestrange had taken over. Their Ministry seemed much less extreme now than it had when Minister Wentzell had been in charge. It wasn’t enough for him to suddenly enjoy politics or like coming into work, but his mind had been eased the slightest bit when the Ministry had gotten a little less radical. Some people even thought that the Minister was angling toward ending the registration entirely. He had heard those angry whispers as well. He heard plenty. That was the problem. Death Eaters said plenty that he wished that he could unhear, and Merlin knew there were enough Death Eaters in the Wizengamot these days. He was all but surrounded.
[break][break]
The arrival of the foreign organization had done little to improve their moods, which had made work at the Ministry even more stressful than it had been before. It was days like these that he was grateful that he had the help of his sisters at all. Kali especially had a political mind that helped him at times like these. Sierra managed to help plenty too—and both of them had positions in the Ministry, thankfully. Van and Donna didn’t care as much for politics, but that was fine. He envied them in some ways, honestly. They didn’t care about politics and they didn’t have to deal with it. He, on the other hand, had to deal with on a daily basis. And it was grating. Michael was certain that it always would be. It wasn’t something that he thought that he was ever really going to get better at.
[break][break]
His day at the Ministry was not over yet. Far from it. There were several smaller cases today that the entire Wizengamot had not even been brought in for, but he had been one of the lucky few that had. He did not have that long of a break but the moment that he could pull himself out of the courtrooms, he’d headed back up to the Atrium. Luckily for him, the lunch rush had already passed through the lobby, making it easy for him to get to the exits. One cigarette, and he would come back inside. It would calm his nerves enough to get him through the rest of the afternoon. Hopefully, anyway.
[break][break]
There was a bench just down the block from the Ministry’s entrance that he tended to frequent when he needed a break—and a cigarette, which had happened more and more over the past couple of months. The habit was one that he tended to pick up under times of stress and there was no denying that the past couple of years had been stressful in their own way. But the arrival of the ICW and the purists’ whispers about it definitely brought about a new form of anxiety. Sitting back against the bench, Michael let his head drop back against the wall behind him, his head tilting up toward the sky as he took a drag of his second cigarette. Yes, one had turned to two, but he would definitely go inside after this.
[break][break]

[attr="class","cnotes"]795 ● Jaxon Jameson Cole ● outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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wilder mind

You can be every little thing
you want nobody to know

And you can call it love
If you wanted

Jaxon was so ready for the Quidditch season to get started. He knew it was selfish. He was almost ashamed of it, if it he was honest. But he was still so excited anyway. He loved the sport. He loved playing--and the way the last season had ended, well it had been hard for him to accept. He did not believe the team who had been named the champions--a team whose name he had been avoiding saying since then--were deserving of the title. Puddlemere had literally JUST beaten them. It was a point of sensitivity for him that really had not fading in the off season. He should not have been hung up on it. There were so many worse things going on in the world with the muggleborn registration and epidemic. Quidditch was not important in the same ways that basic wixen rights and public health were. 

But it was still his livelihood. It was something good and wholesome to share with everyone in wixen society. With the borders locked down and the economy suffering--yes, Jaxon did keep up with such things, the man had always had political aspirations for after his Quidditch career  ended--it could be good for the country to have something to focus on that could lift morale. But it was also just really fun. So much fun. Even sex wasn't as good as flying could be. Well, most sex any way. Sex, pizza, beer and flying were always pretty good--even when they weren't perfect or the best, they were always still good. 

Quidditch wasn't just flying, though. He was training constantly. Division A was the best--and no matter what the bastard at the Department of Magical Games and Sports had to say about it, Puddlemere United was the best of the best. And he was their captain and their seeker. Their success was dependent on both his leadership and his ability to do his job. He had to be nimble, quick, and agile. He had to have stamina--unmatched stamina. In the matches that lasted for days, he had to be able to stay awake and alert. Thank Merlin the longest match he had ever personally been part of had been only thirty-two hours. He had been nineteen at the time. It had been grueling in a way that he had never experienced during his time at Hogwarts, or even the rookie season after it. Everyone on the pitch had just wanted the match to be over. The captains had began to negotiate a time out for a sleep break when he had caught the snitch. He'd never been happier for a match to be over. Everyone was. No one celebrated or moped. They all just crawled to the locker rooms and passed out on the floor. 

These days, he tried to pre-negotiate an arrangement with the opposing captain. If a match broke the twenty-four hour mark, they would agree on a time-out, break for four hours, then resume play. It was for the safety of all the players. He really wanted to petition the DMGS to institute new rules like that, to promote player safety. They had so-called cared enough to end the season early last year, but they left archaic rules in place that did not align with that mission. He needed to just get a meeting with the Head of the Department. There was a lot they needed to discuss. Muggleborns needed to be playing again. He wanted Caleb back on the pitch. Rules needed to be reviewed and updated. Someone just needed to step and promote those positive changes. He was more than willing to be that person. 

He would make an appointment. If he had not been so sweaty from the run he'd been on, he would have gone straight over to the Ministry to pester the man's secretary. He had another half a mile at least, but after he could apparate home, shower, suit up and go over there. Owling was not enough. Pieces of parchment could be ignored. A six foot seven two hundred sixty pound man was much more difficult to ignore. He was planning out what he wanted to say in his head--debating whether to try to charm his way into a meeting with dimples and his Southern drawl, or if a more intimidating cold demeanor would get him a meeting sooner. His experience told him charm was always the best course of action, but he would better be able to judge when he actually met the secretary. 

Up ahead someone was smoking on one of the benches, the werewolf seriously considered cutting across to avoid the unpleasant order when he took notice of the man's outline. The curve of the shoulders, the hair, the height--that was Michael Parkinson. It did not matter that Jaxon was thirty feet away. It did not matter that Michael was facing away from him. He knew who it was. He had known Michael a very long time. They had been in a relationship back at Hogwarts for awhile before he had been turned...and then again in the relatively recent past, when Michael and Cat had been engaged. He'd been seeing them both. Michael had been the one to introduce him to Cat. They'd talked like they might all be something together. It had fallen apart the way things always did. Cat had run off with Van...and Michael had decided to refocus on family duties. 

Jaxon understood the choice, but he did not understand what was driving Michael out to this park bench. The wizard was smoking. Michael only stress smoked. It was a habit Jax had always hated--would always hate--and would always discourage. He jogged the last few feet around the path until he was standing in front of Michael. It had been awhile since he had seen him. Jaxon had not even known about Renny the last time he and Michael had spoken. He wished his kid was with him now--he would have liked Michael to have seen the beautiful boy. Maybe some other time.

For now, concern was driving him. He sighed, pressing his lips into a line as he looked at the other man. "What are you doin'?" Jaxon asked, his voice hard and his eyes fixed on Michael. No hello, no how have you been, no small talk. It did not matter to him that they had not spoken in months. It did not matter Michael had dumped him. Clearly something was wrong, and Jaxon...Jaxon was a fixer. He didn't run from or avoid problems. He went right for them. Whatever was going on with Michael that was putting that nasty stick in his hand, Jaxon meant to address it.

@ smoking ex • 1147 • outfit

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

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[attr="class","ctopline"]YOU CAN BE EVERY LITTLE THING

[attr="class","cscriptministry"]you want nobody to know

[attr="class","cline"]

[attr="class","clyrics"]YOU CAN TRY TO DROWN OUT THE STREET BELOW[break]
AND YOU CAN CALL IT LOVE IF YOU WANT

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[attr="class","cbody"]Maybe he should have known all along that the title of heir had fallen to him. Maybe it was something that he should have been planning for far earlier than he had. It wasn’t as if Van had ever been heir material, for lack of a nicer way of putting it. He had always just been… Van. He had wanted to be in a band. And even if he hadn’t immediately been disowned for that, maybe Michael should have been preparing for that possibility. It might have made it easier for him if he had been. He might have felt a bit more prepared if he had gotten it into his mind sooner.
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But he hadn’t. Michael had always thought that, when it came down to it, Van would do what was best for the family. For his family. They were family, after all, and nothing mattered to Michael more than family. He had just figured that his brother would come to the same conclusion. That he would man up and take on the responsibilities that fell to him as the oldest son of Myles Parkinson. That he wouldn’t piss off and leave it all on him. But he had learned a long time ago that nothing came of giving his older brother too much credit except for a lifetime of disappointment. He had no made that decision. Instead, he had stuck with his band. He had been in the tabloids so many times that the covers and articles could wallpaper rooms of the estate. He had disappointed their father more times than could be counted, and it had ended the way that Michael should have seen coming. In the way that he should have been prepared for.
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It all fell to him now, and he was not going to be like Van. He couldn’t be. He was not going to disappoint his family, he was not going to disappoint people who counted on him, and he wasn’t going to disgrace his father’s legacy by messing it all up. It meant figuring out how to be good enough. It meant putting aside what he wanted to do and who he wanted to be with, to figure out who he needed to be with. It meant making the right choices—calculating them and making sure that he didn’t make any mistakes. Politics was like a game of chess. He knew that. And he was good at chess.
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But he was not good with politics.
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To him, they were not connected. He could not calculate political steps moves in advance. He could not pre-calculate someone else’s reaction and figure out how he would react to that before it happened. It was not something that he was good at and he did not think that it was something that could be taught. Some aspects of politics and working in the Ministry could be taught, he knew that. But not that.
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Van would have been worse at it. He knew that. He understood that entirely, but it didn’t make it any easier for him to be saddled with all of the responsibilities. Michael could try his hardest and he could put on a good face, but this was never going to be the life that he wanted. It wasn’t the life that he wanted. Yes, he still got to write. He got to teach at Braithewaite and fill his spare time with music and writing, and he was relieved to even have time for that. But he was never going to be free of the politics and the obligations. And politics went far further than just the Ministry. There were parties and the social season and a whole slew of other responsibilities that came along with his position. Honestly, the parties were worse than the Ministry most of the time. The politics there were a lot subtler and harder to navigate. And with summer upon them, he knew that there would be plenty of that to worry about.
[break][break]
But he didn’t even want to think about that yet. He wanted to milk every second of this smoke break before going back inside. There was enough to worry about while he was here. If he started thinking about the social season and all of the parties and events that he would have to attend, his mind would go to even darker places. He knew himself well enough to know that. He would start to worry, inevitably, about marriage. Michael knew that it was too soon to worry too much about that. Kali had made him promise that he would not get married until she was twenty-five. If she didn’t find anybody by then, he had said that he’d marry her. They were not siblings, after all. An uncle and a niece was still kind of a close match, but not unheard of in purist circles. And it wasn’t like it would be that kind of marriage.
[break][break]
He didn’t want it to come to that. Not for his sake, but for hers. The reason that he worked as hard as he did was to make sure that the rest of his siblings could continue to do what they wanted. Donna could be a single mother with her IVF if that was what she wanted to do. Van could tour with his band until he was eighty. Kali could marry anyone she wanted, could do whatever she wanted. That was what he truly wanted. He didn’t want her saddled with a political marriage. He wanted to be the only one subjected to that. If he did one thing right, it would be that.
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There had been a time when he had thought a political marriage might not be all he was destined for. Having Cat and Jaxon had done him well. He needed Cat, had needed that marriage, but he had needed Jaxon too. For an entirely different reason. Michael had never seen a future where he could have them both, and it had been in his grasp. It had been a possibility. A woman that he was actually attracted to to bear him children, a man that he cared deeply for—it was more than he could have asked for. But he was not likely to find something like that again.
[break][break]
A future worry. But not one that he wanted on his mind yet.
[break][break]
When he heard the familiar voice, for a second, he thought he had imagined it. He had only just been thinking about Jaxon, so surely that was his own mind paying a trick on him in a moment of stress. But when he opened his eyes, there he was. Without a shirt, and clearly on a run. With what he had just been thinking about, the visual definitely, definitely did not help. “You’re going to cause a car accident,” he said, instead of answering his question. Not that he knew how to drive, but if he got a glimpse of him running while operating a motor vehicle, it would definitely end with him wrecking the car. As he spoke, he casually pressed out the end of the cigarette against the corner of the bench, just on the off chance that Jaxon hadn’t noticed it.
[break][break]

[attr="class","cnotes"]1,202 ● @ well hello to you too ● outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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wilder mind

You can be every little thing
you want nobody to know

And you can call it love If you wanted

There were people who had left his life that Jaxon would always feel the absence of. Some of those people he had driven away--like Oriel... Others had just drifted more naturally--like Lilybelle. He had loved both of them so much. He had secrets from them, though. By the time he had told Oriel the truth about what he was, he had already ruined what had grown between them. The photographer could not forgive the mood swings and vanishing acts--not even after the reason for them had been explained. So, there was just this Oriel shaped whole in the seeker's heart.

Michael Parkinson was another person who had left a hole in Jaxon's heart. They had been together at Hogwarts. That was just young love, though. They were supposed to grow beyond that. And of course, they both had. They'd taken different life paths. Art for one--athletics for the other. Perhaps it was not unreasonable to say that Jaxon Cole had a type when it came to men. He always fell for the artists. He envied and admired the beauty they created. It captivated him. Michael picking up an instrument and producing beautiful music captivated him. He treasured the memories of the Parkinson in his cabin, sun just breaking over the horizon, sending some warm golden rays through the window on Micheal's face as he sat tuning Jax's father's guitar and then the man just seemed to find a melody in the air. That was how it looked to Jax--as if Michael could just pluck music right out of the air, as if he just breathed in the air and then let the notes flow out of his fingers. The creation of a song or melody seemed so effortless for the man. The American felt truly special to have born witness to such things.

Those were treasured memories. Those were happy memories. Jaxon had thought he had found something real and lasting with Michael. When Catrina had been engaged to be the Lord's wife, it felt like they had found a way to make it all work. Michael would have enough political influence to keep the family safe. Jaxon had bought the story of them being a family hook, line and sinker. He had been all in.

But Cat hadn't. She had fallen in love with Van. The seeker could not fault her for that. Love was beautiful and worth taking a chance to go after. It still just sucked. Not for her, of course. But for them. Maybe it sucked for her, too. He really did not know how things were going with the Shafiq and the wrockstar. Jaxon did not make a habit of trusting the tabloids, but he knew the stories had not always been kind to the pair. Maybe he should reach out... Van might not appreciate the ex-boyfriend checking-in, but he and Cat had been friends as much as they had been lovers. He'd ask her for lunch soon.

The wizard tucked that idea away for until he could get back to his cell phone. He'd send her a sexy sweaty snap. That'd go over great with the husband. Jaxon thought the whole idea was hilarious and brilliant. Instead of worrying about Van being potentially jealous, Jax was just leaning into it. He was Jaxon Cole. He was a brand--a sexual icon. If the wrockstar did see, it would be a good thing. Cat deserved someone who knew that she was gorgeous and had other options if she wanted them. Men should not get complacent just because they got a ring on it. Or so was Jax's opinion.

Not that he was partner of the year or anything. He wasn't monogamous. He had more failed relationships before even turning thirty than most people would have their entire life. The werewolf had ruined a lot of romances intentionally. During Durant's reign, he felt he had to drive people away. He could not let anyone too close or he would endanger them. He could let them in his heart, but he could never show them that they were there. When Wentzell overthrew the Ministry, despite all the horrible things that were happening to muggleborns, Jaxon had some hope. Hope that he could have a future like he had imagined--with a family, with people he loved around him. He had  long learned to control his lycanthropic tendencies. He was not truly a danger to anyone now that the Ministry was not hunting and persecuting werewolves. 

That was why he had been so optimistic for him, Caterina, and Michael. He had believed that they had the potential to actually be together, to be happy. It was possible. He had let himself hope. But in the end, duty to old traditions had meant more to Michael than what they had. When Cat had gone to Van, Michael had put and end to the romance between the two of them. Be that as it was, Jaxon had not simply forgotten the man--or stopped caring for him in the time that they had been apart. Jaxon did not know how to forget those that he had loved that easily. 

And now, seeing Michael here. Smoking. It twisted something inside of the Cole. He wanted to be there for the other man. He wanted to lighten whatever burden had driven Michael to the unhealthy crutch. Jaxon had a big heart and Michael still had a place in it, whether the other man wanted that to be the case or not. 

Jaxon did not give a greeting. He just launched right into a question. That question that he expected to have answered was absolutely ignored. He rolled his eyes at the words that the other man offered up. "We ain't talkin' 'bout me," the Cole drawled, unimpressed with the hint of a compliment. "I ain't a danger to nobody. But that," he gestured to the butt that Michael had put out. "That is a danger to you." It was no secret that Jaxon did not approve of smoking. He had scolded Oriel for it. He had scolded Michael for it. He would scold anyone he cared about for it. The habit was a bad one. It yellowed teeth--and caused wrinkles--and oh, yeah, it killed people! Maybe not wixens, though...Jaxon had not actually heard of anyone in the wizarding community dying of cancer. It wasn't something they had to deal with. Healers and potions just set the body to right.

Jaxon studied the other man's face, looking into those bright, beautiful eyes for some answers. His voice was softer, gentler when he spoke again. His country drawl delivering words of genuine concern as he asked: "So, ya gonna tell me what is goin' on?" He knew there was a fine line between pushing too much and not pushing enough. He wanted to show he cared, because he did. He wanted Michael to know there was an ear and shoulder waiting on him, if he wanted to use it. But he didn't want to make the man feel forced--that would just drive the Parkinson away...and it had already been a really long time since they had seen one another. 

@ hello darlin' nice to see ya, been a long time • 1193 • outfit

MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOX 2.0

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[attr="class","cbgtop"]

[attr="class","cimg"]

[attr="class","clbox"]

[attr="class","ctopline"]YOU CAN BE EVERY LITTLE THING

[attr="class","cscriptministry"]you want nobody to know

[attr="class","cline"]

[attr="class","clyrics"]YOU CAN TRY TO DROWN OUT THE STREET BELOW[break]
AND YOU CAN CALL IT LOVE IF YOU WANT

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[attr="class","cbody"]He cared about his family more than anybody else in the world. That had always been true—far before he had known that it would be his responsibility to watch over them. There had been a time when life and the perils of growing up had not distanced him from any one sibling. When there had been no reason to pull away from one and grow closer to the other. It was a time far in the past, unfortunately. As he had gotten older, his relationships with his siblings had grown and changed as he had. They were not all perfect. They never would be. But that did not mean that he didn’t love them. He did. He would do absolutely anything for any one of them.
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And in some ways, he supposed that was the problem. Michael was never meant to be the heir. That was always supposed to be Van. It wasn’t as if he had been raised for it. It wasn’t as if he loved politics and it was something that he had wanted to do anyway. Politics had never been for him. He had loved music and writing from the time he was old enough to realize it. Van knew it. He knew it was well as the rest of them did, but he had still run off. He had still continued to do whatever the hell he wanted, regardless of what the rest of them did. When he was disowned and the title of heir fell to Michael, did Van even spend one minute feeling bad about it?
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Did he spend one minute wondering what he had subjected his younger brother to? The brother that had never wanted it. That had never wanted anything having to do with politics. The brother shouldn’t have had to deal with it. He was the middle child. He had three siblings that were older than him. Only Kali was younger than him and as he now knew, she was not even his sibling. Not that that made any difference to him, but still. The fact of the matter was that, whether or not Van knew it, Michael was the youngest sibling. But he was the one that had to pick up the slack. He was the one that had to make up for what Van had done, and Michael was not sure that Van had spent so much as a second feeling bad about it. It just wasn’t in his nature.
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Did that mean that Michael didn’t love his brother? Of course not. But it certainly meant that his relationship with the man was more strained than his relationship with his other siblings. He was closer to Kali than he was anybody else. He couldn’t remember a time when it hadn’t been that way. He was incredibly close to Sierra as well, especially since she had moved back. Michael knew how much she worried over him too. She understood him well and always seemed to know when a particular conversation or situation made him out of sorts. And he knew how much she worried about him after he had to see Van or Cat.
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That whole situation was complicated. His relationship with Van had already been strained before Caterina had decided that she was in love with him. He was the one that was supposed to marry her. It wasn’t as if he had loved her and that his heart had broken into a million pieces when he realized that she did not love him back. It wasn’t anything that dramatic. But he did care about her, and he was relatively attracted to her—and having a physical attraction to his wife was not something that he had ever expected to have. When he realized that he’d have to marry and the responsibilities that came with that, a part of him just came to terms with the fact that he would more than likely not find his wife physically attractive. It wouldn’t be anything against her, not at all. He could just count the amount of women that he was attracted to in his life on his hands. The fact that he had been attracted to her at all boded well for their marriage having something physical to it that wasn’t forced.
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Of course, generally speaking, Cat wasn’t his type. She was attractive, obviously. He had eyes. And he’d been with her throughout their relationship with Jaxon. But she was different than the other women that he had been attracted to. A bit flashier. More overt sex appeal. That wasn’t normally what he was drawn to with the few women in his life that he’d enjoyed being with.
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But still. He had liked being with Cat, and he had liked being with Jaxon. It was a relationship that he had thought was going to last. He could marry Cat, and it could just be the three of them. Michael had honestly been optimistic about it. He had not expected Van to swoop by and send it all crashing to pieces. It did not make his relationship with his brother any better. In his mind, his life had already been made hard enough by Van’s choices. He’d finally had something that he had thought would make it all the more tolerable, and then who was it that had taken all that away too? The same brother that had put him into the situation to begin with.
[break][break]
It didn’t do him any good to think on it now. His brother and Cat were happy together, and he was happy for them. He kept his thoughts to himself and didn’t let them let onto how much they had hurt him. It wouldn’t help. He bore his issues in private. Usually, with a fair amount of chain smoking. It wasn’t a healthy habit, but it helped on the hard days. And sometimes, there were a lot of hard days.
[break][break]
Coming across someone that he knew outside the Ministry happened. It was not an uncommon occurrence or something that would have surprised him, if it weren’t for the fact that it was Jaxon. He was not somebody that Michael had expected to see—and he was someone that would have plenty of opinions about him smoking if Michael couldn’t put the cigarette out without him noticing. Michael had thought that the subtle changing of the subject would do the trick but at the man’s next words, he realized that it hadn’t worked as well as he liked. He supposed he could have expected that. Jaxon hated smoking. He had probably smelt the telltale odor of smoke from a block away. Putting it out now did little to prevent that. “As I’ve heard. Hasn’t killed me yet though.” Would it? Maybe. He couldn’t claim to have any idea if a wizard could die of lung cancer. He supposed if someone smoked enough, it was probably possible. But he definitely did not smoke on that level.
[break][break]
Michael knew that Jaxon would worry unless he put him at ease. He just had to act like he was smoking on his break, not for any reason whatsoever. That was possible, wasn’t it? He could see the concern in his eyes when he spoke again, and Michael lifted a shoulder in a shrug, an easy smile forming on his lips. “Nothing’s going on,” he aimed for nonchalance, hoping to put the seeker’s mind at ease. “Just had some time between meetings.” Maybe he just smoked on the regular now. Maybe Jaxon would believe that. It had been some time since he’d seen him last.
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[attr="class","cnotes"]1265 ● @ going to cause a car accident ● outfit

[attr="class","cred"]MADE BY VEL OF WW + ADOX 2.0

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