#Lear Green

[ausetkmt]

https://x.com/AfricanArchives/status/1704567631515160830?s=20

Apart from Henry “Box” Brown, who mailed himself to freedom in a wooden box did you know there was a woman who also did the same?

Lear Green’s story is less well-known.

Green was an enslaved young woman who made one of history’s most daring and innovative escapes in order to marry the man she loved. Green was able to flee her slaveowner, James Noble, in an old wooden sailor’s chest during a long and arduous shipping journey from Baltimore to Philadelphia. Slaveholder and butter dealer Noble had “inherited” Green from his mother-in-law.

Green, born in 1839, was in her teens when she fell in love with a free Black man, William Adams, who asked her to marry him. Green initially refused because she did not want her children to be born into slavery. “How can I perform the duties of wife and mother while burdened by the shackles of slavery?” Green reportedly asked Adams. But Green later changed her mind after Adams and his mother, also a free woman, came up with a plan for her to escape.

Green, who was now determined to escape the oppression of slavery, purchased an old sailor’s chest and placed various items in it, including “a quilt, a pillow, and a few articles of raiment, with a small quantity of food and a bottle of water.”

Her fiance Adams and his mother fastened the chest with heavy rope, with Green cramped inside. Adam’s mother boarded an Ericsson steamboat in Baltimore and brought the chest with her. The chest was secured with rope and stowed with other freight. During the 18-hour journey to Philadelphia, Adams’ mother snuck into the compartment and from time to time lifted the lid of the chest to check in on Green and allow her a breath of fresh air.

After 18 hours in the chest, the ship arrived in Philadelphia. Green would meet with Underground Railroad conductor William Still before making her way further North to marry Adams and move to Canada. As expected, Green’s slaveowner Noble named her a fugitive slave, and a manhunt was launched to bring her back.

Noble reportedly posted an advertisement of her escape, which read as follows: “$150 REWARD. Ran away from the subscriber, on Sunday night, 27th inst., my NEGRO GIRL, Lear Green_about 18 years of age, black complexion, round featured, good looking and ordinary size… I have reason to be confident that she was persuaded by a negro man named Wm Adams…he had heard to say he was going to marry the above girl.”

Green and Adams married and settled in Elmira, New York. But their joy together was short-lived. After three years of marriage, Green suddenly died at the age of 21 for unknown reasons.

[penguinclover]

Day 228

Congratulation on the anniv

[lillipad72]

The Annotated Anne of Green Gables ~~ a special rereading

CHAPTER III ~~ Marilla Cuthbert is Surprised

"Will you please call me Cordelia?"

Here, 'plain and boring' Anne Shirley introduces herself to Marilla as Cordelia, for she feels the name is much more romantic than 'Anne.' But what is the background of this name, and why did Anne find it so romantic? The name Cordelia itself is derived from a Middle Welsh name meaning "jewel of the sea." I can see already why Anne finds it so romantic a name! In England, there is also a legendary Queen Cordelia of the Britons. There is no real historical evidence that she ever existed, but her legend lives on. It goes that in the 9th century, Cordelia was the youngest and favorite daughter of King Lear. Eventually, she fell out of favor with her father and was granted no land when he split it between his daughters. She moved to Gaul to live with her husband, the king of the Franks. Later, the other daughters' husbands revolted and overthrew King Lear, who fled to Cordelia. Cordelia raised an army, invaded Britain, and got King Lear back on the throne. Soon after, Lear died, and so did her husband, Cordelia, returned to Britain to become Queen Cordelia. Unfortunately, her rule did not last long, for her sisters' sons revolted and fought her armies before capturing her. Sadly, Cordelia then killed herself. How Anne is probably familiar with Cordelia is from William Shakespeare's tragedy King Lear, in which things end decidedly worse for Cordelia (she is hanged after being captured before ever becoming queen). If we look at the first story, of course, being a Queen is beyond romantic! If we look at both versions, we can see how Cordelia saves (or at least attempts) her father and the devotion that she has for him. This makes her the romantic hero of her story and probably very appealing to the orphaned Anne! Asking to be called Cordelia could be her way of making herself the hero in her own story. Above is a picture of Queen Cordelia of Britain!

"A-n-n looks dreadful, but A-n-n-e looks so much more distinguished."

Keeping with the name theme for this chapter, we have the iconic moment where Anne makes sure that Marilla says and spells her name with an 'e.' She claims that with this extra letter, her name is much more romantic and distinguished, making her feel the same. In a total reversal, Lucy Maud Montgomery, who went by Maud, did not add an 'e' to her name and would get upset at those who added one mistakenly. It is true that most Mauds are spelled like her, but it can be spelled with an 'e' at the end. So, multiple questions arise for me about this fact. 1. Does the adding an 'e' only apply to certain names like Ann/Anne? 2. Is Maud actually the more distinguished of the pair? or 3. Does Montgomery not believe that certain names are more distinguished than others and is just making Anne out to be overly sensitive? (also, above is our favorite author)

This time, the notes in the chapter were not super interesting due to its length and content. I mean, I could have written more about farmhouse spare rooms, but I chose to abstain. Also, I meant to write this yesterday, but I was too wrapped up in learning how to crochet!

next chapter

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

"THE QUEEN AMANDA LEAR WHO GIVES THE APPLE TO EAT TO JOHN..."

PIC(S) INFO: Spotlight on shots of Apple Tailoring's grand opening in London, UK, with both BEATLES guitarists, John Lennon & George Harrison, plus Salvador Dali muse, Amanda Lear, in attendance -- on Thursday, 23 May 1968.

EXTRA INFO: "The full name of Apple's second boutique store was Apple Tailoring (Civil and Theatrical). It was situated at 161 King's Road, and was run by 25-year-old Australian designer John Crittle.'

MINI-REVIEW: "THE BEATLES' dress sense is quietening down now, like everyone else. They all went mad last year, but now they're all coming back to a normal way of life. We won't get teenyboppers here, because prices will be too high for them. We're pushing velvet jackets and the regency look, although THE BEATLES put forward plenty of suggestions.

They have pretty far ahead ideas, actually. We're catering mainly for pop groups, personalities, and turned-on swingers. The teenagers seem too frightened to come in, even though they know this is THE BEATLES' place. Maybe it's because the place is too elegant and too expensive.

-- JOHN CRITTLE (Australian fashion designer/BJ boutique proprietor)

The premises were shared with another clothing company, Dandy Fashions (sometimes spelt Dandie), which had opened in 1966. Apple Corps' Neil Aspinall and company accountant Stephen Maltz became directors of Dandy as part of its transformation into Apple Tailoring.

The basement also housed a hairdressing salon financed by Apple and run by Leslie Cavendish, The Beatles' hair stylist. Apple Tailoring lasted longer than the Baker Street boutique, but it too closed in 1968. The Beatles decided to withdraw from high street commerce and gave the business and all stock to Crittle."

-- FOREVER AMANDA LEAR (blogspot), published March 2018

Source: https://foreveramandalear.blogspot.com/2018/05/the-queen-amanda-lear-who-gives-apple.html.

[pacificnewsworld]

Remembering Norman Lear: A Trailblazer in Television Production

EMMY-WINNING TV PRODUCER-WRITER NORMAN LEAR PASSES AWAY AT 101 Los Angeles, 

CA - The entertainment industry mourns the loss of legendary TV producer and writer, Norman Lear, who passed away at the age of 101 on Tuesday.

 With an illustrious career spanning several decades, Lear was not only known for his creative genius but also for his dedication to liberal causes. 

His family confirmed the news of his demise, revealing that Lear peacefully passed away at his Los Angeles home surrounded by loved ones. 

Through a heartfelt statement posted on Facebook, Lear's family shared, "Norman left this world peacefully, embraced by the love of family and friends. 

We spent his final moments together, sharing stories and songs, cherishing the incredible legacy he leaves behind." Lear's contributions to the television industry are immeasurable, earning him six Emmy Awards throughout his career. 

He gained recognition for creating groundbreaking shows that tackled social issues head-on and challenged the status quo.

 His notable productions include "All in the Family," "The Jeffersons," and "Maude," which not only entertained audiences but also sparked thoughtful conversations on topics such as racism, sexism, and societal inequalities.

 Despite reaching the remarkable age of 101, Lear remained actively involved in his craft well into his 90s. His unwavering dedication to his work and his passionate advocacy for progressive values made him an influential figure in both the entertainment and political realms. 

Lear's impact extended far beyond the television screen. He was a strong advocate for numerous liberal causes and used his platform to raise awareness and drive social change. 

His philanthropic efforts included supporting organisations fighting for equal rights, education, and environmental conservation. 

As news of Lear's passing spreads, tributes and heartfelt messages flood in from fellow industry professionals, fans, and activists alike.

 Many express their gratitude for Lear's trailblazing contributions, which paved the way for more inclusive and thought-provoking storytelling.

 Norman Lear will be remembered as a true pioneer, whose relentless pursuit of artistic excellence and social justice revolutionised television. 

His legacy will continue to inspire generations to come, reminding us all of the power of storytelling in shaping our society for the better. 

In honor of his remarkable life and career, tributes and memorial events are being planned to celebrate and pay homage to the unforgettable mark Norman Lear left on the entertainment industry.

[denimbex1986]

'Lilli Schwenk Hornig was 23 years old when she arrived at Los Alamos to contribute to the development of an atomic bomb that would end World War II. A passionate chemist, Lilli battled sexism throughout her academic and professional careers and remained a steadfast advocate for female scientists like herself.

Lilli Hornig: What I remember in my mind is the—these sort of boiling clouds and color—vivid colors like violet, purple, orange, yellow, red, just everything. And we were all kind of shaken up.

Katie Hafner: That’s the scientist Lilli Hornig, describing what she recalls of the first test of a nuclear bomb on 16 July 1945 in the New Mexico desert.

This is Lost Women of the Manhattan Project, a special series of Lost Women of Science focusing on the female scientists and their contributions to the building of the first atomic bomb.

In this episode, we share the story of a young chemist who experienced Nazism firsthand in Europe before finding herself in the middle of the United States’ war against Hitler, working against time to develop the detonating device that would make the Trinity test possible. After that test, and the bombs themselves that were dropped on Japan, she was shaken, and haunted.

We also want to tell you Lilli Hornig’s story because she's an example of something we keep seeing over and over at Lost Women of Science: female scientists who follow their scientist husbands to new jobs in academe or industry. The Manhattan Project scooped up many of these spouses though it’s impossible to put a number on just how many.

And there’s more about Lilli Hornig: she’s the only female scientist named in Oppenheimer, Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster film. Her cameo appearance isn’t far off the mark. She’s shown as a woman determined to work as a chemist, not a secretary.

In 2011, the year she turned 90, the real Lilli Hornig sat down for an oral history interview with the Atomic Heritage Foundation. The audio you’ll hear from that conversation is a little bit scratchy, and although Hornig is still as sharp as can be, it’s clear that she’s, well, 90.

Producer Mackenzie Tatananni brings us Lilli Hornig’s story.

Mackenzie Tatananni: Lilli Schwenk was born on March 22, 1921, to Jewish parents in a tiny Czech town about 50 miles outside of Prague. Her father was an organic chemist, her mother a pediatrician. Lilli was introduced to science during her formative years, and the interest stuck.

Hornig: My father took me occasionally, very occasionally, on a Sunday to his lab, and I just loved all the glassware, and he gave me some micro-sized glassware for my doll house. So, I always assumed I would be either a chemist or a physician. And I was kind of squeamish at the time, so I went for chemistry.

Tatananni: In 1929, when Lilli was eight years old, she moved with her family to Berlin, where her father began work for a pharmaceutical company. But anti-semitism was on the rise and the Nazis were establishing a stronghold throughout Germany. The danger to the Schwenk family was palpable.

Hornig: After Hitler came to power, my father was actually being threatened with being taken off to a concentration camp.

Tatananni: Fearing for his life, her father fled alone to the United States in 1933. It would be months before Lilli and her mother were able to join him, settling in Montclair, New Jersey.

The U.S. was a daunting new world for Lilli. She barely spoke English. School was the biggest shock of all. Everything was unfamiliar, from the placement tests she took at the start to the creamed carrots she prepared in cooking class.

But she wasn’t deterred. Lilli earned a B.A. in chemistry from Bryn Mawr in 1942 before moving on to a graduate chemistry program at Harvard. Unlike Bryn Mawr, a women’s college, Harvard’s chemistry department was far from inviting for women. For one thing, there was no ladies’ room in the building.

Hornig: I had to go to another building. I had to get a key for it. And that sort of gave me a message.

Tatananni: At a meeting with chemistry faculty, she was told that women always had trouble with physical chemistry. Lilli did NOT want to prove them right. She studied rigorously, poring over the notes of fellow chemist Donald Hornig, a PhD student whom she’d met on her first day and soon began dating. But she flunked the first semester and was forced to retake it, only to ace it the second time around.

In spite of these trials, she earned her master's in chemistry in 1943, the same year she married Don Hornig. Don was already involved in the effort to develop nuclear weapons. His doctoral thesis investigated blast measurement, and he was studying ways to measure blasts in midair.

In 1944, Don was approached by his thesis advisor, Bright Wilson, with a job offer. But he wouldn’t elaborate on just what the job would be.

Hornig: Bright said, “Well I can’t tell you much about it.”

And Don said, “Well tell me where it is.”

And he said, “No I can’t tell you.”

“Well, can you at least tell me, is it north, south, west?”

“No, couldn’t tell you.”

Tatananni: Don relayed what little information he had to Lilli. The job offer was shrouded in so much mystery that they jointly decided that Don would turn it down. However, Don continued to face pressure, particularly from George Kistiakowsky, a physical chemist who had gone to Los Alamos to develop explosives. Kistiakowsky called Don and told him he needed him badly.

Hornig: And with a few curses, which was very much his style—he said, “Dammit, you come out here.”

Tatananni: Kistiakowsky managed to talk Don into taking the job. But–

Hornig: I said, “What am I going to do there?”

And so Don talked to George some more, and after that George said, “Oh we’re scouring the country for anybody with a Master’s in chemistry, especially from Harvard, is going to be more than welcome.”

Tatananni: She was in. They were both 23.

Hornig: You know we were so young. When I look now at our grandchildren, the youngest ones are about the age we were then and they don’t think of themselves as having adult responsibilities. It’s very striking to me because we had no doubt that we were grown up.

That spring, the couple sold their Massachusetts home and their sailboat, bought a 1937 Ford Coupe and drove to Los Alamos, New Mexico.

When they arrived…Don went straight to work…

Hornig: And I went to the personnel office. And the first question was, “How fast can you type?” And I said, “I don’t type.”

Tatananni: We see a version of this scene in the film Oppenheimer. The character Lilli Hornig catches up with Oppenheimer as he’s walking with a group of men.

[Start clip from the film Oppenheimer]

Hornig: Dr. Oppenheimer, I tried personnel. They asked if I could type.

J. Robert Oppenheimer: Can you?

Hornig: Harvard forgot to teach that on the graduate chemistry course.

[End clip from the film Oppenheimer]

Tatananni: Oppenheimer turns to one of his scientists and says, "Put Mrs. Hornig on the plutonium team.

She started with the plutonium group as soon as her security clearance came through, and she quickly found that her new life was…lonely.

Ellen McGehee: She did not have children. She was even more isolated from her, sort of female peers, because she kind of worked within her own group and socialized with her husband's friends and those couples.

Tatananni: That’s Ellen McGehee, a lab historian at the Los Alamos National Laboratory who has researched the life of Lilli Hornig.

McGehee: I sense that she had almost a, she had a pretty compartmentalized scientific experience. Even though she knew what the goal was.

Tatananni: Here’s how Lilli saw it:

Hornig: There was one other woman in the division, she and I worked together, and we had our little cubby hole and did our little procedures and put them under the geiger counter. And nobody actually really spoke to us.

Tatananni: Plutonium chemistry was a mystery at the time, as almost none of the artificial element had been created. Lilli’s group was working on studying plutonium-239, the isotope that was believed to be a powerful fuel for the atomic bomb. However, in the summer of 1944, there was a disappointing discovery. It turned out that using plutonium in a bomb would be harder than expected. Los Alamos scientists found that plutonium created in a nuclear reactor contained traces of the isotope plutonium-240, which is formed when plutonium-239 absorbs another neutron while still inside the reactor. Plutonium-240 had an extremely high rate of spontaneous fission, and could not be removed from the valuable plutonium-239. While uranium could be used in a very simple bomb design, a plutonium bomb made that way would prematurely detonate, destroying itself before its reaction got large-enough to be a viable weapon.

So the Los Alamos scientists had to pivot. And quickly.

At that time, most of the work at Los Alamos had been focused on a simple bomb design called the gun-type, in which one piece of fissile material was shot into another through a gun tube. The plutonium gun design, called Thin Man, was discontinued when it was discovered that it would pre-detonate. The scientists understood that to use plutonium in an atomic bomb, they would need to do something different.

They decided to focus on implosion, a much faster method of assembly. A sphere of plutonium would be surrounded by tons of specially-designed high explosives, detonated at exactly the same moment and potentially leading to a powerful and efficient explosion. But nothing like implosion had ever been done before. The entire organization of Los Alamos was shifted in the summer of 1944 to tackle and solve the implosion problem.

When that happened, both Lilli and the other woman were taken off work that directly involved plutonium. The men in charge were concerned that radioactive materials would affect fertility. This scene also appears in the Oppenheimer movie, but don’t blink or you’ll miss it. In case you did miss it, here’s how Lilli described her reaction to the men's concern for her health:

Hornig: They were worried obviously about reproductive damage. I tried delicately to point out that they might be more susceptible than I was; that didn’t go over well.

Tatananni: Lilli went on to join her husband in the high explosives unit. The need for precision in the explosives and their detonators was unprecedented, and that unit proved crucial to the success of the new plutonium bomb, which was codenamed Fat Man.

Here's Ellen McGehee, the Los Alamos historian, again:

McGehee: They really needed to figure out how implosion was working. And so they had to come up with all these different methods and new technologies that had to be invented on the spot and facilities that actually had to be built.

Tatananni: Lilli’s group worked on the explosive lenses used in Fat Man to focus the implosion shockwave and guarantee that pressure was uniform around the plutonium core. But just two days before the Trinity test, there was a misfire on the spark gap switch, a sensitive electronic device that Don had designed to send an electrical signal to all 32 of the lens detonators within a microsecond.

Hornig: And at two o’clock in the morning our group leader Lewis Fussell was knocking on my bedroom window saying, “You have to get up, we have some work to do.”

Tatananni: So Hornig and Fussell headed to the stock room with a list of equipment they had to replace. In a matter of hours, they located the parts, which were shipped off on a truck that same morning.

Forty eight hours later, Lilli was sitting atop a mountain in the Sandia range with colleagues, 110 miles from the test site, watching and waiting for ignition.

Hornig: We put sleeping bags on the ground. None of us slept very well, so we got up about three o'clock, I guess. And started waiting for the shock, kept keeping our eyes glued on, on the site.

Tatananni: They waited and waited, but nothing happened. They decided the test wasn't happening that day after all, and started to leave.

Hornig: I was sitting in the car reaching for my ignition key—and the thing bloomed in front of us and it was just incredible.

Tatananni: It didn’t take long for Lilli and her colleagues to understand in the most concrete of terms the potential for destruction on an unprecedented scale.

Germany had surrendered two months earlier, in May of 1945, so the war in Europe was over, but it raged on in the Pacific as Japan refused to surrender.

Lilli – and many others working on the Manhattan Project – had been in favor of building a bomb to stop the Nazis, especially if the Germans were working on one as well. But once Germany surrendered, and …

Hornig: Once the European war was over with, well, a lot of people left right away.

Tatananni: There was now a question about whether it was really necessary to drop the bomb on Japan.

Leo Szilard, a physicist working with Enrico Fermi’s group in Chicago, circulated a petition among the scientists there that called on President Truman to consider dropping the bomb only if an announcement was made first and Japan still refused to surrender.

Hornig: I remember the petition came around just after the test. Some of my friends were signing it and I thought about it and I thought that was a good idea.

We thought in our innocence that if we petitioned hard enough, they might do a demonstration test, and invite the Japanese to witness it. But of course the military I think had made the decision well before that they were going to use it no matter what. And so we had very mixed feelings about that.

Tatananni: In the end, Lilli wasn’t one of the 70 scientists who signed the petition - although she appears in the movie, speaking out against the dropping of the bomb. And she wasn’t at Los Alamos when the Americans dropped the first atomic bomb on Japan. She was in Milwaukee, visiting her in-laws.

Hornig: We knew the drop was imminent. We didn’t know the precise moment. Certainly Don’s parents didn’t have TV at the time and I don’t know if there were ever any news on, but Don and I went downtown. There were all the papers with the headlines, so we knew it had gone off.

That was an odd mix of feelings. I mean, certainly some triumph and the destruction was just so incredible. I think we’ve all been a little haunted by that over the years.

Tatananni: Shortly afterwards, Lilli fell ill with hepatitis and couldn’t return to Los Alamos. So she returned to her studies. Again she followed her husband, this time to Brown University, where she was offered lab space, all while commuting to Harvard to attend lectures.

In 1947, when Brown found itself short on chemistry faculty, Lilli stepped up to teach.

Hornig: And it was very hard to hire faculty then because there were so many guys coming back, making huge classes, and you know with that many men graduating or getting their graduate degrees during the war. Here I was with a brand new baby, with a Master’s Degree, teaching 250 guys, and I think there were six girls in the first class.

Tatananni: Lilli received her doctorate in chemistry from Harvard in 1950, and no, typing wasn’t taught in the doctoral program there, either. She continued teaching at Brown and later at Trinity College as chair of the chemistry department.

She became an outspoken champion of women in science, paying forward the hard-won role she played during a pivotal time in U.S. history. It’s hard to say what Lilli would have thought of the film in which she appears as the only female scientist. Chances are she’d have been amused, perhaps even honored. Then again, she might have been pissed off on behalf of all the women who were left out, not just of that movie, but left out of a history rich with the stories of hundreds of female scientists like her.

Tatananni: Lilli Hornig died in Rhode Island in 2017 at the age of 96.

Hafner: This has been Lost Women of the Manhattan Project. Mackenzie Tatananni produced this episode with help from Deborah Unger and from me, Katie Hafner...

Thanks, too, to Alex Wellerstein, John Townsend, the physics department of Harvey Mudd College and the American Institute of Physics for helping us get the science straight.

Those excerpts you heard from the Lilli Hornig interview were used with permission from the Atomic Heritage Foundation and the National Museum of Nuclear Science & History.

Lost Women of Science is funded in part by the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation and Schmidt Futures. We’re distributed by PRX and produced in partnership with Scientific American.

For more about Lost Women of Science, please visit us at lostwomenofscience.org...

Hafner: A special shout-out to the folks at Los Alamos National Laboratory for helping us tell the stories of the women who worked on the Manhattan Project.

We can’t tell you all their stories, but we can tell you many of their names, which we’ve been reading aloud for you on and off through this series. Here are a few more….

Speaker: Pat Patterson.

Speaker: Hazel Genzel.

Speaker: Ida Cunningham.

Speaker: Joan Clark.

Speaker: Amanda Bloom.

Speaker: Kathleen Gavin.

Speaker: Mary Rose Ford.

Speaker: Gladys Morgan Hopper.

Speaker: Creola Green McCamey

Speaker: Patricia Lear.

Speaker: Doris Dixon.

Speaker: Sonia Katz...'

[unwillingtoreachout]

@you-know-i-get-itt I'm afraid idrk who they are but this made me realise that this list is missing a lot of German literature (I'm a fake fan, I know). Sadly, I don't read German literature often but I think he'd enjoy The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka and Demian by Hermann Hesse, maybe even Doctor Faustus by Thomas Mann

Also a few more honorary mentions:

Frankenstein

Slaughterhouse-five

Shadow of the wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne

So.... As the resident English lit Andrew truther I bring you Andrew's curated list of outstanding literature (also this is very much compliant with Yield To It which is my au where Andrew's a literature major)

(side note: I personally think Andrew's a snob and has his own beef with American literature so he reads a lot of european literature)

Anyway....

Crime and Punishment by Dostoevsky (very self explanatory, although I think he would enjoy The Brothers Karamazov as well)

Emma by Jane Austen (I think he likes to argue that Emma is the superior Jane Austen book even though he really likes pride and prejudice bc mr Darcy just hits different)

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë (I also think he would like the beginning of Jane Eyre but not the ending)

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (I feel like every queer person who's into literature had a picture of Dorian Gray phase, also it's where the title "yield to it" comes from)

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (also kind of self explanatory bc it's a book about revenge and it makes sense in the context of the au)

Les Misérables by Victor Hugo (the jean valjean reference)

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (very much a book about adults not understanding children which I think he would relate to. Also the little prince befriends a fox in this book and I think that whole part reminds him of Aaron)

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger (the second American book on the list and also the most red flag book yippeeee. I put it here bc I think he would relate to Holden's desire to protect children's innocence, given his background)

ALSO, Neil works in a bookstore so he reads stuff occasionally (but it's really random bc idk) so these are the books I think he would read:

Little Women

The Outsiders

The Odyssey

Anne of Green Gables

[leggerefiore]

Eating chocolates with S/O and there's only one left (gasp)

cw: kissing, fluff,

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Nanu, N, Lear, Larry, Grimsley

Somehow, you and your lover found yourselves together on the couch relaxing. A show that neither of you were paying attention to played on the television. Your head rested on their shoulder as your mind drifted into possible things to do. They rested their own atop yours. Between you both say a box of chocolate that had been bought at some point by one of you. A hand went to grab another one, opting to indulge oneself in the holiday's festivity, but it bumped into another. Your eyes drew down to the box. Only one candy remained. Your partner's gaze met your own. Silence followed.

▲Ingo▼

● The older twin stared for a moment before shaking his head. “Ah, go ahead, dearest,” his voice was gentle, “I'm not the biggest fan of sugary things as it is…” He offered the chocolate to you with a soft smile. “Besides, I only was eating them since you were so kind as to get them for me.” All you could do was take the small confection and eat it. Ingo then caught you off-guard when he brought his thumb in the swipe, the corner of your mouth. “… There was a bit of chocolate there,” his cheeks darkened with colour, “Ah, dearest… I truly love you.” A gentle kiss was pressed to your lips. The chocolate tasted a little sweeter.

▽Emmet△

○ The younger twin gazed at you strangely. His lips were still tugged up into the smile that remained ever present on his face. A tilt of his head had him look even more odd. “…” it was eerily silent. His hand did not move from the chocolate. You gazed down at it. Right. “… Darling,” his voice finally came out. His gaze was piercing right through you. Certainly, Emmet was known for his love of sweets. There was not a chance that he was backing down from this. It felt like a losing battle. He liked winning more than anything else. Pulling back your hand, you watched him happily eat the chocolate. Though, his gaze fell back on you. Arms wrapped around you quickly and pulled you into him. “Thank you verrrry much,” he cooed and nuzzled his face into your nape. Well, at least he was being polite.

🐈‍⬛️Nanu❤️‍🩹

🌑 The Kahuna stared for a moment before pulling back his hand. He was not the type to engage himself in something so intensely. Really, he probably should not be eating so much sugar in one sitting. Besides, he only really cared about letting you be happy. “Go ahead,” he motioned his hand, “I got them for you.” You took the chocolate and ate it while his attention drifted back to the screen. However, he was caught unawares when you suddenly leaned in to peck his cheek. His body tensed for a moment before he relaxed. Shaking his head, he sighed. Great, now he seemed like some gentleman.

🌿N👑

🟢 The green-haired man pulled back his hand. He blinked. What did people do in this situation? Was it whoever reached first? Whoever had the least? Neither of you had been paying attention to that. Was there a formula that he could use— His thoughts were interrupted by the last piece of chocolate being pressed into his mouth. You gave him a playful grin. He ate the chocolate with little thought. “… Thank you,” he nodded, “Why did you do that?” N was genuinely curious. A shrug from you left him more lost. He had thought you wanted the chocolate. Before he could ask another question, your lips pressed to his own. It seemed there would be no answers to your actions.

👑Lear💎

🪙 The prince pulled back his hand without any hesitation. His gaze was masked behind those sunglasses that he always insisted on wearing. For a moment, the silence permeated. Your hand was pulled back, too. Then, he reached forward and picked up the chocolate. “… Here, darling,” he pressed the candy to your lips. Letting him feed it to you, that lopsided grin of his spread across his face. “I knew you would love that chocolate,” Lear was plainly smug about you enjoying his gift. Not wanting to let his ego get too big, you leaned in to kiss him. He tensed for a moment before completely returning the affection. You accidentally made his ego even bigger.

💼Larry🏢

🍙 The businessman retracted his hand without any hesitation. You watched as he attempted to act as if that had not happened. Larry did not exactly have the biggest sweet tooth, but he was not opposed to snacking either. It was clear that he wished for you to have the last piece without speaking, likely determining it to be the most placating thing to do. “… Sorry,” he mumbled. You hatched a plan. Placing the chocolate between your lips, you leaned in for a kiss. The other half went into his mouth. Pulling away, you both got to eat your respective pieces. The older man's face was his usual facade. “Thank you, dear,” he tried to pretend that did not just happen.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ The gambler did not move his hand back. Did he care that much about chocolate? Possibly. His typical smirk never budged as he snatched the candy away and quickly ate it. You stared at him in slight annoyance, but honestly, you had expected it from him. What proceeded to catch you unawares was him leaning in and pressing his lips to your own. It turned into something more passionate, and the remaining hint of chocolate came through from the kiss. He broke it off with that horrible grin of his. “Did you enjoy it, darling?” his voice was teasing. Your glare made him only chuckle.

[jessamine-rose]

⋆*•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙˚  Mistletoe  ˚‧͙*̩̩͙❆•̩̩͙*⋆

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first (੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭

Belated Merry Christmas, everyone!! Guess who got hit with Yandere! Capitano x Damsel! Darling inspiration on the night of Christmas and decided to write a late drabble…….I hope you all enjoy this fluffy gift ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Note:: Fem reader, this is not a dark fic but it is connected to a yandere series

♡ 0.5k words under the cut ♡

On the last day of the winter holidays, you ask Capitano if he would like to see your flower collection.

At first, Capitano thinks this is no different from his wife’s daily routine. When you aren’t pressing fresh flowers in your notebook, you are flipping through the previous pages to check on your collection.

In both scenarios, Capitano likes to observe you. Most enjoyable is when you go out of your way to invite him—those sessions always end in nostalgic conversations and a batch of newly preserved flowers given to him.

As such, he predicts a similar gift for this holiday.

The bedroom is silent, save for hushed voices and the rustling of paper.

It is a rare moment of peace after weeks of Fatui meetings and festivities. Once again, you are seated on your husband’s lap. As you turn the pages of your notebook, Capitano takes note of certain flowers.

Dandelions, dendrobium, Sumeru roses, forget-me-nots, astilbe, laurestine…

And so on. Each flower invokes a shared memory, a precious moment frozen in time. But you don’t reach the end of your collection.

Rather, you stop at a page of yellowish-green flower clusters. Before you can read out the name of the plant, Capitano has already recognized it.

Mistletoe.

“Do you remember this?” you ask him.

“...Yes,” he replies. Beneath his mask, his eyes widen with understanding. “Mistletoe, acquired during our trip to Fontaine. It fed on the trees that grew behind the House of the Hearth.”

Your voice takes on a playful tone. “I’m glad that Arlecchino allowed us to pick a few flowers. The mistletoe that grows in Fontaine is quite similar to Mondstadt’s.”

One sprig of mistletoe has not been glued to the page. You pick it up by the stem, twirling it between your fingers.

“At this time of the year,” you whisper, “I’d see this plant everywhere in Mondstadt, hanging over doorways and ceilings. The berries are quite pretty…have you heard of this tradition?”

So this was your strategy.

His thumb traces circles on your waist. “I have. Including other details.”

You turn to face him, a faint twinkle in your eye. “Is that so?”

The preserved mistletoe is placed on the desk, next to your closed notebook.

“I hope you like it,” you tell him. A small smile makes its way to your face as you straddle his lap. “I’ll give you your other gifts later.”

He pulls you closer, caressing your cheek. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

Capitano bows his head and you take the hint, placing your hands on either side of his mask to take it off. It joins the flowers on the desk.

And in the kisses that follow, a wish is shared.

“May we enjoy many more holidays together, my beloved flower.”

♡

Craving more Capitano and mistletoe?? (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Fun fact, my first brainrot of 2024 was this New Year’s post so I rlly wanted my last one to also be Capitano x Damsel. Starting and ending the year with CapiDamsel kisses <3

Special thanks to @diodellet for beta-reading this!! I also want to take this moment to thank my mutuals and everyone who read my work this year!! I hope you all enjoyed my last fic of 2024, and happy holidays╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @brynn-lear @harmonysanreads @naraven @mochinon-yah @pranabefall @euniveve @zhongrin @jymwahuwu @silentmoths @stickyspeckledlight @teabutmakeitazure @nicebonescomrades

[tenebraevesper]

Sonic X Shadow Takeover Analyzer (Part 2)

I was so excited to hear this Takeover since it is only Sonic and Shadow talking to each other and answering question. It is one of those times where you get to see their dynamic without anyone else's input.

Since I feel like I could write an essay about these two, I decided to instead put all my thoughts into bullet points, this being Part 2 of my list:

Obligatory ''Shadow likes Latinas'' joke.

I love how Sonic sees their rivalry as a friendly competition, even describing it as being two sides of the same coin and pushing each other to be better. Shadow points out how he fights because he has a purpose and he will fight Sonic if their ideals clash. Sonic isn't buying it, though. He really wants to make it clear that his presence is important to Shadow and he wants to hear that from Shadow himself. Shadow finally agrees, with Sonic sounding so proud of himself.

Addendum: Considering how the cutscene battle in Sonic X Shadow Generations went, Shadow definitely can't resist fighting Sonic to best him, regardless of his own goals. Their rivalry gives him purpose.

''GO OFF KING!!'' Sonic, what?! X3

Shadow goes on a rant about Super Monkey Ball, with Sonic immediately trying to apologize for the whole thing. It's hilarious!

''THOSE MONKEYS NEED TO PUT ON SOME PANTS!!'' Shadow, you don't even wear pants.

I love how when Sonic and Shadow talk about Jet, Sonic immediately turns the question to be about their rivalry, pointing out how their little competition is why Shadow keeps Sonic around. Shadow just groans in exasperation, but we all know Sonic's telling the truth.

Black Doom really has an obsession with Radical Highway. I suppose Radical Highway is to Shadow what Green Hill Zone is to Sonic. Also, love how Shadow retorts to Sonic's ''Radical'' pun by calling him ''Mr. Green Hill Zone''.

When they're asked to draw something, their immediate response is to draw each other, with Sonic even trying to give some input to Shadow. They're not the best at it, though; something they wholeheartedly agree on.

Shadow is so proud to have his Year, and Sonic likes it too, to the point of showering him with constant compliments. Shadow enjoys it, but claims how he's not ''seeking attention''. Nobody's buying that Shadow.

Sonic Shuffle get mentioned!!

Shadow played chess with Maria, which is really nice. Also, if Sonic ever plays chess with Shadow, he'd totally be the guy who eats the chess pieces, much to Shadow's confusion. Also, the fact that Shadow claims how Sonic would lose on purpose to annoy him is both hilarious and also kinda sweet, considering how Sonic has been acting in this whole Takeover.

Fadel is back and trying to get into either Team Hero or Team Dark... and Sonic and Shadow clearly refuse to have him on their teams. I find it hilarious how Sonic immediately directs him to Team Dark and Shadow claims how applications are closed, then points him at Team Hero and gaslights Sonic into reluctantly accepting Fadel into the team.

I actually watched Games Cage's reaction to that, and he is completely oblivious to the fact that Sonic is being passive-aggressive by mentioning how Tails called dibs on their only parachute, meaning Sonic is cool with letting the guy fall off the Tornado. X3

Sonic is so persistent about wanting to hug Shadow! I get Sonic Prime vibes from this and I'm loving it.

''I don't need... your kind of hugs.'' There's two things I can conclude from this:

Shadow only likes the hugs Maria and Amy gave.

Shadow actually would be fine with Sonic hugging him, but they have to be meaningful rather than fleeting considering his earlier comment. Sonic is totally oblivious to that, though.

Sonic Boom ''Shadow broods in a cave'' reference!

Besides training, Shadow's hobby is reading. He's a bookworm, and Sonic sounds so excited about learning that. I can totally see Sonic thinking about dragging Shadow into another Storybook Adventure.

Shadow's first time turning Super was still him learning how to control that power. It explains why he ran out of energy back then, while Sonic had more experience and could keep it longer. Sonic also keeps complimenting Shadow about looking cool in his Super Form, even calling him wise for pointing out how that power needs to be controlled.

WHY DOES SONIC HAVE ABRAHAM TOWER ON SPEED DIAL?!

Shadow definitely doesn't work for G.U.N. That's something that has been confirmed. I have to say, the whole conversation between the Commander and Shadow was really awkward, but the kicker is Sonic's being oblivious to the whole awkwardness. He is so proud that he arranged a call between them.

I love how Sonic's neutral opinion about Orbot changes immediately the moment he hears Shadow's own thoughts on the robot. Once Shadow says he dislikes Orbot, Sonic immediately agrees with him, and when Orbot offers to get them coffee, causing Shadow to like him, Sonic also agrees that Orbot is fine. This really feels like Sonic wants Shadow's approval by agreeing with his opinions.

Sonic and Shadow are arguing about who is better at raising their Chao. They legit sound like married couple arguing about how to take care of their children. Sonic is definitely the fun dad, while Shadow has to take care of the discipline.

Shadow doesn't believe in ghosts, despite Sonic pointing out how they ran into paranormal stuff several times. Sonic also tries to scare him a couple of times, with Shadow showing no reaction.

Shadow's favorite Doom Power is Doom Morph, and Sonic is a little jealous of that form once he hears more about it. The fact that Shadow just keeps bragging about it and annoying Sonic is hilarious.

''Skill issue!'' Lol, Shadow. I can imagine Sonic rolling his eyes at that comment.

Shadow scolds the person who listens to the Twitter Takeover instead of studying for their exam. He really cares about their education, while Sonic points out how he needs to lighten up.

Let's be honest, Sonic and Shadow definitely love hanging out with each other, admitting it in their own way that they care about each other.

I believe that this Takeover proves that Sonic and Shadow really have a good dynamic when they sit down and hang out with each other. They bicker, they tease each other, they come to agreements and disagreements, they care... It is so enjoyable to listen to them and I'm looking forward to seeing more!

Oh, and yeah, this was a feast for the Sonadow fans, if you ask me. I hope you guys will enjoy my notes, because I'm definitely going to take advantage of all the new information I got. I can't wait for the meal we'll get once the Sonic the Hedgehog 3 movie comes out.

#Sonic X Shadow Takeover Analyzer (Part 1)

#Sonic Cyber Revolution (Masterlist)

[enaelyork]

I don't remember if i talk about it before, but, if you really want discover agent Stone's another side, you really must read the prequel comic of Sonic 2.

I share you the cover and the first page, and in "spoiler" what i lear in this book.

What i learn (in short) :

Robotnik clearly sees Stone as his potential successor.

Contrary to what is often shown in the film, Stone can have a very vicious side and a manipulative side that is very interesting to exploit.

How he manages to get Green Hills Coffee so easily.

Definitly i understand WHY Robotnik keeps him by his side.

[dangermousie]

I went into a particular popular tag and the bulk of stuff in it are those idiotic character blah x reader fics that the auto correct appropriately tried to correct to “fucks” and in addition to being so freaking long (use the read more! Or put a link! If I have to scroll for that long, you are getting blocked quicker than a pornbot), here is my chance to say:

I hate x reader fics and if you are the person who loves them, carefully using find/replace to put your name in, I look down on you.

Those things are not only vacuously narcissistic and make old time Mary Sue seem like a self effacing Shakespeare opus, they are either an example or part of the reason that so much of the recent fandoms have literary analysis abilities of an amoeba.

They are a symptom of and feed that whole ridiculous “we don’t care if the story and the characters and interactions make sense for that type of setting or person or relationship, we don’t care if it’s complex, interesting or really anything. All I care is if I can insert myself into it and love being in it. If I do, it’s great. If I can’t, it sucks.” It’s on the same spectrum as calling a male lead a green flag even if he eats babies as long as he treats the FL well (because you imagine yourself as her and not some poor peasant in a village he just razed to the ground), or having a fit at behavior that would not be morally correct for a modern moral western person despite the fact that this is set in eg Ancient Rome and not being able to comprehend that protagonist merely means main character, not someone to emulate. That a story has to be interesting and have some meaning but not necessarily lead by main character’s example as to how to behave - it is not a morality play. Description does not mean approval. Nobody is reading King Lear for parenting and estate planning tips!

When everything is seen merely through the prism of “but would I love to be in this fictional setting/date this fictional character” and anything that gets a “no” is viewed as a failure, we either get the most terrible takes or, worse, fiction that becomes bland and badly done - catering to one very specific, poorly thought out fantasy.

And yup, those misbegotten y/n (I want to always go “yes/no”) fics are a symbol of all of that for me.

TLDR: I fucking hate x reader fics.

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Hi! I was wondering if you were going to do a pt. 2 of the ghost and thief reader post? Also, I hope you drink enough water and have an amazing day!

Simon Riley - Medieval Au Part 2

Knight Simon Riley x Thief Reader

Tears stream down your face and your heart pounds out of your chest as he drags you inside of a cottage just out of town. You continue to beg him not to kill you, clutching at his wrist. He shuts the door behind him with a slam, and you choke out more sobs, he's gonna do something worse than kill you.

His grip loosens on the collar of your worn shirt, and he grabs your bicep instead. You finally start to notice that you aren't in the dungeons, and you are so confused. You glance around, eyes flickering over the room. He's brought you to his home, and by the looks of it, he is a very high ranking official.

Your sobs stop in a moment of confusion as he drags you by the arm to his washroom. It's a miniature bathhouse, you've only ever dreamed of such luxury. The floors are ornate, handmade tiles and you can smell all of the expensive soaps. He closes the washroom door and he sits you roughly against the wall, you start to cry again as he takes off his armor.

He removes his helmet last, and he is the most angelic person you've ever seen. It's ironic to even call him angelic after the treatment he has put you through in the last 20 minutes. He ignores your crying as he takes off his boots and rolls up his sleeves. You scramble away as he approaches you again.

His face betrays no emotion as he grabs you by you arm again. He sits you back in the original spot he had placed you in by the door.

“Don’t fucking move.” He lears at you, and he seems satisfied when you freeze in fear of his tone. He narrows his eyes and lets go of your arm. He goes to the corner on the other side of the door where he starts to warm up some water over a fire. It's a giant metal basin, and you shakily watch as he fills it up to the brim. He makes sure the fire is big enough to warm up the water. He glances back at you to make sure that you haven't moved.

After several minutes, steam starts to fill the small bathhouse, and the air gets warmer. You watch the man with wide eyes as he makes sure the water is warm enough, and he effortlessly bumps the basin into the porcelain bathtub in the middle of the room. He returns to the fire and refills the basin full of water, then he turns to you.

You begin to cry as he grabs you, he doesn’t seem to be as rough anymore. He shushes you as he takes off your shirt, and you scratch and fight him. He seems annoyed but he makes no comment as you try to fight him.

He pulls your trousers off as you cry and sob, begging him to not hurt you. He picks you up by your underarms and he plops you into the warm bathtub. You are shaking from fear, you've never had a warm bath before. The water is nice but not nice enough to fight off the thoughts of what he might do to you.

He looks over his several bottles of soap, you’ve never seen a bottle up close before. He decides on a green glass bottle, and he pops the cork off and he dumps the soap onto the top of your head and the rest into the warm bath water. He starts to scrub you clean, starting with your hair.

His movements are very firm, like he wants to scrub your skin off. You feel so vulnerable and exposed by his treatment of you.

“You're not as filthy as I thought’ you’d be..” He says to you, rinsing your hair out with a clay bowl and the warm water from the basin over the fire. He moves to scrub your arms with a rag and more soap from the green bottle. You finally notice how nice it smells, like wild mint and rosemary.

“Makes things easier for me.” He mutters the last part as he finishes cleaning you up. He picks you up out of the bath as you continue to sob quietly. He rinses you off with the clean and warm basin water. You feel goosebumps all over your body as the heat from the water quickly leaves you. You curl into a ball on the tiled floor and shake from the cold and the fear of the unknown.

He dries you off with a towel, and he wraps you in it. He picks you up and puts you back by the door. You shiver and try to cover yourself up more as you watch him empty the bathtub of dirt water. He pours the water outside his window using another large clay bowl as you dry off.

You can’t believe that this is happening to you. Is he going to sell you for money? Is that why he gave you a bath, so you could sell for more? You can only imagine, and the thoughts of horrible things seem to consume you.

[gingerteafairy]

THE GREAT GUIDE FOR JAILBIRDS IN LOVE

warren lipka x fem!reader part one here part three

summary: Warren weren't that prepared for the silly little thing called love, learing that, sometimes, you really need to fight for it (literally).

tags n warnings: highly suggestive (can be categorized as smut, but it's too small for that), language, fights, blood, angst, some sensitive topics. word count: 13k

Rule #5: Appearances Can Be Deceiving

Warren adjusted his tie around his neck once more, huffing as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He absolutely hated this. Ties, polished shoes, neatly pressed shirts... If it were up to him, he would’ve shown up in ripped jeans and an old t-shirt. Or better yet, naked—if that weren’t illegal. But there he was, in a freshly ironed blazer and expensive cologne.

And why?

Because of you.

You, who made him spend beyond his budget on a small bottle of sophisticated perfume. You, who convinced him to actually wash his hair, tying it back into a decent ponytail. You, who made him use the fancy deodorant he reserved for special occasions. His shaved face, smooth as a baby’s skin. You, who made every bit of effort feel worth it.

“Yeah. Okay.” Warren took a deep breath, snapped his fingers, and lightly slapped his own face. “Oh, almost forgot.”

He rushed out of the room, the sound of his shoes echoing as he hurried to the living room. On the table, a narrow vase held a bouquet of red tulips, a folded note tucked between the petals. His name, written in his messy handwriting, made a smile involuntarily tug at his lips. He picked up the flowers gently, inhaling their scent, blinking a few times as if it brought him back to reality.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

He left an hour early, driving with an uncommon focus, determined that nothing—traffic, long traffic lights, or bad luck—would ruin this evening.

A familiar tune started playing on the radio, and without thinking, he began singing along.

“Close your eyes, give me your haaaand… Do you feel my heart beating? Do you understaaaaand?”

He was so caught up in the excitement that he didn’t even notice the strange look from a man in the car next to him, stopped at the red light. When he did, Warren furrowed his brow and slapped the side of his own car.

“What’s your problem?”

The man frowned, rolled up his window, and drove off when the light turned green.

“Coward.” Warren rolled his eyes and kept singing, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. “Am I only dreaming aaaaa… It’s eternal flaaaame.”

The tires slid smoothly along the road until, finally, his house came into view. Warren took a deep breath, turned off the radio, and replaced it with the CD he’d burned earlier that afternoon—but decided to keep it silent.

Before getting out of the car, he glanced in the rearview mirror. He ran a hand through his hair, made sure his beard was still in place, adjusted his collar, and cracked his neck to release the tension.

“It’s going to be fine.” He whispered to himself.

Then, he stepped out before his nerves could talk him into turning back.

He walked with determined steps to the door, straightening his posture. When the door opened, the sight in front of him stole all the air from his lungs.

You looked stunning.

The silk dress hugged your curves just right, elegant without being over the top. Your makeup accentuated every contour of your face, the sparkle in your eyes, the soft lipstick. Every detail contributed to the perfect image that Warren couldn’t stop admiring.

“My God…” He swallowed hard, blinking several times, making sure he wasn’t dreaming. “You’re…”

The word vanished from his throat.

“You’re… amazing.”

You smiled, blushing slightly as you adjusted the strap of your dress.

“Thank you.”

Warren blinked, as if returning to reality, and quickly extended the bouquet toward you.

“Oh! These are for you.”

“For me?” Your smile widened as you took the flowers, examining them with affection.

“I hope you like them…” He murmured, a little shy, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to hold back the grin that kept wanting to break free. You grabbed the small note tucked between the flowers, your name written on it in his handwriting.

“Hey, don’t open it yet.” Warren’s voice came out hurriedly, and he gestured with his hands as if trying to stop your movement in midair. “Wait until I leave, please.”

“Why?” You raised an eyebrow, pretending to open it.

“No… it’s just…” He took a deep breath, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared at the ground. “I’m embarrassed, that’s all.”

You laughed softly.

“You’re not embarrassed to kiss me in front of my house, but you’re shy about a little note?”

“It’s different, okay?” He grumbled, looking at you from under his lashes. “So… shall we go?”

You nodded, closing the door behind you. He extended his arm, and you slipped yours around his as you both walked to the car.

When they arrived, he opened the passenger door for you, tilting his head slightly in a chivalrous gesture.

“Wow, such a gentleman.” You teased as you got into the car.

“I always do this.” He rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue before walking around the car and sitting in the driver’s seat.

He turned the key in the ignition, and before starting the engine, he looked at you with a mischievous grin.

“Did I ever tell you that you're the most beautiful thing in the world?”

Your face flushed, and an enormous smile spread across your face before you could even reply.

“No.”

“Well, let me tell you now. You look absolutely wonderful tonight.” He flirted shamelessly, not taking his eyes off you as he pressed the button on the radio.

The soft intro of Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton began to play.

You widened your eyes, surprised by the coincidence.

“No way, Warren.” You laughed, bringing a hand to your face. “Oh my God!”

“Casablanca, my dear.” He winked and started the car.

The music filled the car’s interior, and you let yourself sway gently to the rhythm of the melody. Warren, at the wheel, hummed along, occasionally pulling faces and pretending to play air guitar, making you laugh every time.

The CD playing was made specially for tonight. Warren had burned it earlier that afternoon, carefully selecting each track, though you might never know that little detail.

Or maybe, in a few years, he would tell you.

But not now.

Now, he just wanted to enjoy every second of this moment by your side.

The venue was packed, and that was clear as soon as they pulled into the parking lot. Cars lined every available space, and an excited buzz could be heard coming from inside the club, as if the very air was charged with festive energy.

Warren parked and, before even turning off the engine, he turned to you with a soft smile.

“Ready?”

You nodded, adjusting your dress over your legs.

He got out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door with a gentleman’s flourish. He extended his hand to you, firm and steady, his fingers warm against the cool night air. You took his hand, letting him help you out with grace, avoiding any misstep in your high heels.

Warren didn’t immediately let go of your hand. He kept his fingers intertwined with yours as you walked toward the club’s entrance. The red carpet led up to the main door, where a tall, serious-looking security guard stood waiting to check invitations.

He handed over the passes, and without delay, the security guard allowed them through. Once inside, a subtle mix of floral scents and fresh food enveloped you both. The hall was beautifully decorated, with sparkling chandeliers casting golden light across the room. There were snack tables strategically placed, while waiters moved around offering glasses of champagne. Background music played softly, blending with the hum of lively conversations.

Warren leaned in slightly toward your ear, his voice low but laced with genuine concern.

“Are you comfortable with all this?”

The warmth of his breath brushed your skin, sending a slight shiver through you.

“Yeah… it’s fine.” You reassured him, glancing around. Some familiar faces appeared, while others were just blurred figures in the crowd.

He didn’t seem entirely convinced. His hand gently slid to your bare back, the tips of his fingers caressing you softly, discreetly.

“If you want to leave, you know you can tell me.” The firmness in his voice was comforting, like a silent promise.

“Thank you, Warren.” You smiled, biting your lip lightly as you felt his almost protective touch.

His response came in the form of a gesture: his hand slid to your waist, fingers tightening slightly, as if reaffirming that he was there for whatever you needed.

“Hey, sweetheart! How are you?”

The sweet yet vibrant voice made you turn. A well-dressed older woman approached with a warm smile, the gleam in her eyes revealing genuine affection.

“Mrs. Beavers!” You exclaimed, opening your arms to welcome the woman's gentle embrace. “How are you? It’s been such a long time.”

Warren took a subtle step back, observing the interaction with curiosity.

“I’m doing great, darling.” Elizabeth Beavers pulled away slightly, holding your hands with warmth. “You look radiant tonight. More beautiful than the crystals in these chandeliers, and trust me, we paid a fortune for those.”

You smiled, feeling your face warm at the compliment. “Thank you. And you, Mrs. Beavers—you're still pure luxury and elegance.”

Elizabeth laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“You’re quite the charmer.” She teased, giving your hand a light, affectionate pat. “But call me Elizabeth, you know I feel ancient when you call me Mrs.”

She then shifted her attention to Warren, appraising him with a long, discerning gaze.

“And who’s this handsome young man by your side? Your boyfriend?”

Warren, who had been silently observing until now, straightened up and extended his hand casually.

“Warren Lipka.” He said with a half-smile, sensing that Mrs. Beavers posed no threat.

“An exotic name for such a charming man.” Elizabeth quipped, winking her green eyes. You wondered how someone as sweet as her had ended up with a son like Daniel. They didn’t even seem related, much less mother and child. “And where’s Luke? He must be growing up fast.”

“At a friend’s house. They’re playing camping.” You responded, watching Elizabeth nod in approval.

“How wonderful.” She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You should swing by my place to pick up your gift later; I’ve got a little surprise for you, too.”

You laughed, already imagining what it could be.

“My dear boy,” Elizabeth continued, turning her attention back to Warren with a fond look. “Did you know this lovely lady was the most beautiful girl in school when she was 17?”

“Really?” Warren raised an eyebrow, a smile beginning to form on his lips. His hand returned to your waist, pulling you gently closer.

“Yes! The prettiest of them all.” Elizabeth sighed dramatically, fanning herself with a lace handkerchief. “And when I saw how sweet she was… Oh my, I nearly disinherited the useless Daniel just to have her as my daughter.”

Warren chuckled, enjoying the conversation more and more.

“And it looks like her little party girl is all dull and dreary,” Elizabeth added, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, Elizabeth, you’re being harsh.” You teased, laughing as you leaned in closer to Warren, settling against him in a side hug.

“My dear, she’s awful, dreadful.” Elizabeth shot a conspiratorial look. “If she ever dreamt Daniel had a kid with someone else, I’m sure she’d cancel the wedding.”

Warren, who had just been following the conversation up until now, furrowed his brow in confusion and made a vague gesture with his hand.

“Wait… she doesn’t know that they…?”

“Of course not, darling.” Elizabeth made a face of boredom. “You think he’s going to tell that airhead he had a life before her? Not a chance!”

Warren turned slightly to face you, leaning in to murmur in your ear.“Can I go beat him up now?”

You laughed, covering your mouth to stifle the sound.“No.” You whispered back, trying to hold back your laughter before returning to the conversation.

“Oh my God! I can’t believe it’s really you!”

The excited voice made you turn instantly, only to be pulled into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of floral perfume surrounded you, and even before seeing her face, you already knew who it was.

“Claire! Oh my God, it’s been forever!”

The hug was strong, almost overwhelming, but completely filled with affection. Claire pulled away just enough to hold your arms, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she took in your appearance from head to toe.

“You look stunning!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly before casting a playful glance to the side. “And who’s this, huh?”

The mischievous tone made you smile even before you could respond.

“This is Warren. He’s with me tonight.”

Warren gave a small nod, his eyes quickly scanning Claire before returning his gaze to you.

“Hmmm, bad boy vibe.” She teased, laughing, and you had to hold back a laugh too. After all, he was a bad boy, in a way.

“I get a little crazy with this, you know.” You said, winking at Warren before turning your attention back to Claire.

Before Claire could reply, Elizabeth rejoined the conversation, hooking her arm around Claire’s with a motherly smile.

“Claire, darling. We were just talking about Honey.”

The expression on Claire’s face shifted instantly, the laughter vanishing as pure disdain filled her gaze.

“That one’s even dumber than Dan.” She spat, tossing her long blonde hair back with an exaggerated motion. “The bitch said I use hydrogen peroxide to lighten my hair. Well, she’s the one who needs it to clean her rotten soul.”

“Claire!” Elizabeth scolded, furrowing her brows.

“Oh, Mom, stop. I know you were saying the worst things about that air head.” Claire crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow.

Elizabeth sighed, rolling her eyes with amusement.

“Anyway, folks. I’ve gotta go. My boy’s waiting for me. My hot nerd is finally on my hands” Claire said, sending you one last knowing look.

“Tell me all the details later.” You teased, laughing.

“The normal ones or the hot ones?” She shot back, grinning slyly. “You know I can't stop talking about my love life, sunshine. You’re the only one who can match my freak.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing, and Claire blew a kiss before disappearing into the crowd.

“But Warren,” Elizabeth turned back to him with a playful tone, “If there’s one thing time has done for this girl, it’s made her even more beautiful.”

She pointed to you, a mischievous smile curling on her lips.

Warren looked at you for a moment longer than necessary, as if absorbing every detail of your face before responding.

“You seem like a good man.” Elizabeth continued, her eyes evaluating him. “Can I rest easy?”

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly. “If it’s up to me, you can sleep soundly.”

“Brilliant.” Elizabeth smiled, clearly pleased with his response. “Now, excuse me, I need to speak with Denver.”

She kissed you quickly on the cheek before heading to a nearby table where an elegant man waited.

Warren followed her movement, and upon seeing her greet the man with a kiss on the lips, he furrowed his brow.

“Oh… that’s Denver.” His curious gaze landed on you. “Don’t you think old couples kissing is kinda gross in a cute way?”

You simply smiled, watching them together. “Thirty years married. Can you believe it?”

Warren whistled lowly, shaking his head. “Seems almost unreal.” He mused, then turned his attention back to you. “Where do you want to sit?”

You scanned the room for a moment before pointing to a table further away from the bustle.

“Hmmm… how about over there?”

“Perfect.”

His smile was genuine before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. That simple gesture made your chest warm.

When you reached the table, Warren pulled a chair out for you, ensuring you were comfortable before gently pushing it back in place.

“Would you like a drink?” He asked, already scanning the room for the bar.

“Sure. Whatever they have. I trust your judgment.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“That’s dangerous.”

You just laughed and shook your head, watching him walk away toward the bar. While you waited, you couldn’t help but watch Warren for a few seconds, admiring the way he walked with such confidence. His hair perfectly tied back in a ponytail, the sleeves of his jacket fitted just right, subtly revealing the hidden strength in his forearms.

Yes, you definitely trusted his judgment.

You rested your chin on your hand, your eyes following Warren as he approached the drinks table. He seemed lost in the vast array of options, furrowing his brow as he scrutinized the machines. His nose wrinkled slightly in concentration before he pressed a button – and immediately, liquid spilled over the edge of the glass.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking your head.

“Oh, darling. You never learn, do you?”

The unexpected voice sounded far too close to your ear. Your body stiffened instantly, a chill running down your spine.

Daniel.

You turned your face and came face-to-face with him, his breath hot and laced with false sweetness brushing against your skin.

“Sorry… did I scare you?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly composed your expression.

“No.” You coughed, subtly shifting your chair back with a calculated movement. “What were you saying?”

“About your boyfriend.”

Daniel’s smile was sharp, predatory. He crossed his arms, eyes darting between you and Warren, who was still fumbling with the drinks machine.

“I’ve done some research on him.”

Your jaw tightened. You kept your posture firm, but your shoulders instinctively tensed.

“And what does that have to do with your life?” Your voice came out cutting, harsh. You stood up, your body automatically adopting a defensive stance.

Daniel chuckled lowly, tilting his head to the side as if amused by your reaction.

“You always surprise me, doll. It was one of my favorite things about you.” He took a step forward, his hand reaching toward your face. You caught the movement before your instincts could even react – and you stepped back.

“Enough talk, Daniel.”

Your hand rose instinctively, slapping his with a firm strike. The sharp sound echoed between the two of you.

Daniel laughed. A low, drawn-out laugh. He glanced at his now slightly reddened hand and shook his head, as though genuinely impressed.

“Got some strength, huh?” He lifted his eyes to yours, a twisted glint in them. “They say bad company corrupts good manners.”

Your blood boiled. Your breath quickened. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes.

“What did you say?”

Your voice came out louder than expected. The buzz of the room quieted, and like a domino effect, people began to notice the tension between you two.

Daniel saw it. And he reveled in it.

He grinned, leaning dangerously close to your ear.

“Prisoners really cause some serious damage, huh?”

Shock ran through your body like a jolt of electricity. Your stomach dropped instantly, as if the ground had disappeared beneath your feet. Without thinking, you shoved Daniel hard, feeling the tension burst from within you. He stumbled backward, his feet sliding on the floor, but, surprisingly, didn’t lose his balance. Instead, he let out a loud, cruel laugh, as if it were just a game to him.

“What was that?”

Warren’s deep voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, penetrating. His expression was loaded with controlled fury, his eyes fixed on Daniel with an intensity that seemed capable of piercing through anything in its path.

You blinked, your heart pounding as if you had just run a marathon. Your gaze quickly scanned the room, trying to anchor yourself to something familiar, until your eyes found Warren’s. He was by your side now, the forgotten glass on the table, his jaw set, the muscles in his face clenched in a tense expression. The silence between you two was thick, like a bomb about to explode.

“What was that?” Warren repeated, his voice now lower, but the threat in his words was palpable, like a blade ready to cut.

On the other hand, Daniel, with a fake smile plastered on his face.

"She's so good when she's like this, isn't she?" His voice dripped with provocation.

Before you could react, Daniel casually reached out and brushed a hand over Warren's shoulder, as if brushing invisible dust off his suit.

"She only likes the ones who are at the bottom of the barrel. Such a masochist. Delicious in bed."

Warren froze.

The air grew heavy. You felt his body stiffen, the muscles in his jaw tightening. His gaze, once sharp, became lethal.

"What did you say, you motherfucking piece of shit?" His voice was low, hoarse, almost a hiss. He took a step forward.

"Did you learn that vocabulary in life or in prison, mate?" Daniel scoffed, his eyes swiping up and down Warren's body with calculated contempt. Warren's blood boiled. Without hesitation, he grabbed the collar of Daniel's suit, pulling him roughly closer. 

"Say that again if you dare." Daniel laughed. An irritating, petulant laugh that only served to inflame Warren's fury even more. 

"Looks like not much has changed since then." He shoved Warren hard, smoothing his jacket as if to erase his touch. Then he leaned forward slightly, his voice low and venomous. "Enjoy your little friend while you're at it. She'll have a baby with you when you start to get on with life." Just like he did to me and that little freak of yours." 

That was the last straw. Warren's punch landed squarely on Daniel. The impact was sharp, brutal. Daniel stumbled backwards and fell to the ground, clutching his face with a groan of pain. 

"Shit!" He yelled, pulling his hand away to see the blood running down his nose. 

"Warren, no!" You ran to him, but Warren was already blinded by rage, climbing on top of Daniel to throw another punch. 

The guests around you froze, some murmuring in shock, others watching the scene without being able to look away. Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, and you saw, in that instant, her heart breaking into pieces. Your own chest tightened—not for Daniel, but for her. Despite everything, he was still your son. Denver looked away, hiding his face in his hands, unable to watch. 

"Come here, honey." Claire pulled you by the arm, pulling you away from the fight that was unfolding. in an increasingly bloody manner. "You'll end up hurting yourself if you get in the way."

His body shook, blood pounding loudly in his ears. "Say that again." Warren's voice was a growl as he grabbed Daniel's collar, pushing his head against the floor. "Say it, you fucking bastard. Say on my fucking face." 

"Security!" Daniel screamed, twisting to try to gain control of the situation and landing a blow on Warren. The impact made a cut open at the corner of his mouth. Warren laughed. A harsh, almost animalistic laugh. 

"Even Luke can be stronger than you." 

The name hit Daniel like an invisible blow. His face contorted for an instant, but he quickly disguised it with a growl of rage. 

"You bastard!" 

He raised his fist, but Warren was faster, spinning and immobilizing him again. Seconds later, two security guards grabbed Warren, pulling him back. Two others grabbed Daniel, forcibly separating them and taking them to opposite corners.

"Let me go! Let me go." Warren growled, pulling away with a sudden movement. He ran his hand over his face, wiping the blood from the cut. "I'm going to kill you." "I'm going to press charges against you, you piece of shit." Daniel spat the words, trying to free himself from the security guards' grip. His face was red with fury and humiliation. "You're going to jail again!"

The crack of the slap echoed through the room.

You grabbed the collar of Daniel's shirt, pulling him closer, your eyes fixed on his.

"If you tell the police, I'll tell your fiancée what you said when you abandoned our son."

The color drained from Daniel's face.

"You’re not that brave."

He tried to laugh, but his eyes wavered. You saw the exact moment he realized that, yes, you would have the courage.

"I doubt she knows that." Your voice was cold, cutting. "And I don't think you want to ruin the wedding before it even starts the dollhouse acting to hide the jerk you are."

Daniel tensed, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"Fine." He huffed, pulling away from the security guards and massaging his arms. "Fine. Fuck, okay. I won’t call the cops."

"Fine." You pushed him away one last time before turning to Warren and taking his hand. "But no visiting Luke."

You leaned forward slightly, staring at Daniel with a look of pure ice.

"You don't exist to him."

Daniel opened his mouth to retort, but Warren, still breathing heavily, cut him off.

"Wow, that was hot" He grunted without thinking, his eyes sliding up and down you, appreciating the fire in your eyes.

"Not now, Warren." You grunted back, forcing a brave face, trying not to laugh at the gravity of the situation. "You're dead to me and Luke, Daniel."

You took a step back, lifting your chin.

"Act like it."

"But—"

"Whoa, dead men can't talk." Warren snapped his fingers, interrupting Daniel with a mock-casual tone.

"What?"

"Quiet."

"You're—"

"How can you talk with all that dirt on your face?"

"Bro!"

"Rest in peace." Warren made the sign of the cross before raising his middle finger at Daniel. "In hell."

The entire room was silent for a second, until a small group of youngsters burst into applause and muffled laughter. The distraught parents tried to silence them, but Warren spun on his heel, spreading even more chaos.

"Censorship!" he shouted, raising his arms theatrically. 

"Warren!" You laughed, pulling him by the arm as the first drops of rain fell outside.

Without even looking back, you focused on the only thing that really mattered at that moment.

Warren laughing.

Free.

Turning back to the party just to give the middle finger to anyone who dared to exist.

He got into the car, the smile still dancing on his lips, patiently waiting for you to settle in next to him before starting the engine.

The rain began to thicken.

But you didn't care.

Because, that night, you left there the same way you came in.

Together.

"Where to?"

Warren's voice came low, still charged with adrenaline, as he got rid of his damp suit and tossed it carelessly into the backseat. His hair stuck to his face, messed up by the rain and the fight, and he brushed it away with a quick movement of his hand.

"My house." You replied, trying to fix your hair in the car mirror. “As soon as possible.” 

Without taking his eyes off the road, Warren felt around in the backseat, grabbing a random rag and throwing it to you. 

“Thanks.” 

“You’re very welcome.” His playful tone made you smile. 

Without warning, he slammed his foot on the accelerator, making the tires screech against the wet asphalt. The horn honked loudly as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Screw all of you!” 

“That’s it! Screw you!” You laughed, leaning your face out the window, feeling the cold wind and light rain against your skin before shrinking back into the car. Your heart was still beating fast. Warren laughed too, but this time with a certain nervousness, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “What did we do?” 

“I’m so fucking screwed.” He let out a loud sigh. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?”

“You won’t.” You patted his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Trust me.”

He glanced quickly at you before turning his attention back to the road.

“Daniel doesn’t even have the courage to admit to his own fiancée that he has a son.”

“Coward.” Warren snorted.

The car was silent for a moment, only the sound of the engine and the rain filling the space. Then, a smile played on his lips.

“And what was that, girl?” He ran his tongue over the corner of his mouth, still feeling the metallic taste of his own blood. “Wow. I got goosebumps all over.”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I’m telling you, you have the stereotype of a criminal.”

You leaned slightly towards him, lowering your voice.

“Yeah?” Your hand slid along the back of his seat, your fingers lightly brushing against the warm nape of his neck. “What are you going to do with that?”

Warren’s laughter died there.

He turned his head to you, his eyes dark in the dim light of the dashboard. He bit his lip, the muscles in his jaw tensing. Your innocent, shy eyes tried to hide it, but he knew. He knew exactly what was going through your mind. 

“This car is going to stop.” His voice came in a thick whisper. “And now.” 

Warren turned the steering wheel with a firm movement, throwing the car onto the shoulder of the highway. 

“Hurry, darling?” You laughed, feeling your own body heat up as he pulled the handbrake and parked in a darker area, away from the traffic. 

Warren leaned towards you, his hands sliding to unbuckle your seatbelt. His eyes burned with barely contained desire. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been holding back.” The last thing you felt before you gave in completely was the heat of his hands pulling you into an urgent, hungry kiss.

You purred and took off your seatbelt, forcing your body onto Warren’s lap. He pulled the lever back so you could fit without moving the steering wheel, steadying his hands on your body when the seat reached its position. Straddling your legs on either side of Warren’s waist, you found yourself free to continue the kiss, holding his face in your hands.

Warren palmed your thighs, pulling your dress up so he could touch them directly, marking the spot with his firm fingers. He lifted the fabric once more so he could touch your bum, pulling the elastic of your panties so you could feel the softness of the flesh. You moved forward, brushing against the tent that formed in Warren’s dress trousers, panting into the kiss. You deepened, hungry for him: biting, sucking, licking. Whatever you were entitled to and Warren could give you, you took.

“Oh, shit.” You groaned, feeling the metallic taste in your mouth, remembering Warren’s cut. “I’m hurting you, aren’t I?”

“Fuck that bruise.” He grumbled, scraping his nails across your skin, pulling you closer. “You’re hotter than that.”

“You look so attractive with that bruise.” You whispered, kissing his mouth more calmly.

“Hmmmm, I think I’m gonna start hurting myself more.” He chuckled softly into your face, capturing your lower lip in a hickey. He noticed the small red stain of his blood on your lip, touching it with his thumb. “You look delicious with blood on your mouth. I’d love to visit you in jail if you killed Daniel.”

“Would you? And what would you do to me there?” You flirted, moving closer, shaking your hips back and forth. Warren gasped, throwing his head back, trying to maintain control with his hands on your hips.

“I was going to exercise my right to come and go, come and go, come and go.” He murmured hoarsely, pulling you closer to brush your lips against his. “Damn, I almost came imagining you killing the guy.” He laughed, breaking the kiss.

“You’re horrible, Warren. Look at that.” You laughed in disbelief, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“That’s not even the worst part.”

He began, his hands going up your back to slide the zipper halfway down, grabbing the straps of your dress to slide them down your arms, catching a glimpse of your breasts that he had fantasized about so many nights.

“The first thing that caught my attention about you after your smile was your hips.”

“Really?” You gasped, feeling his hand lightly support the weight of your breasts in his palms. “Why?”

“Because women look really hot with that littl fat on their hips after having a baby.” He finished with a straight face, making you laugh out loud. “So, I kind of already suspected that the kid was your son because of your ass.”

“You’re a terrible person, Warren.” You spoke about his lips, stealing a slow and lingering kiss, massaging his lower lip with your tongue.

He licked his lips and went to your ear, biting the lobe before whispering. “And you love it.”

“You’re a bad influence on me.” You reciprocated in the same tone, closing your eyes to feel him distribute slow kisses on your neck, giving a long, slow lick to your throat.

“And I’m gonna influence you to fuck with me in this car right now.”

Soon his strong arms wrapped around your back, pulling you closer. Strong, intense, passionate. That was Warren’s description of your body, of kissing you, of biting you, of hearing you moan, of having you completely. And you had him in that old car, now, so special to you.

Rule #6: Haste is the enemy of perfectionYou had convinced Warren to stay a little longer at your house after all the chaos that had unfolded. The atmosphere was calm, soothing, like a warm cup of hot chocolate on a rainy day.

He closed the door softly behind him, watching quietly as you made your way to the kitchen. You carefully poured water into the vase to preserve the flowers. Your fingers grazed gently over the delicate petals before you placed the note next to them, careful not to lose it.

That’s when you felt it.

Warren’s arms wrapped around you from behind, his warmth melding with yours. He leaned in slowly, pressing soft kisses along your neck, trailing down toward the base of your throat. Your body relaxed under his touch, your eyes instinctively fluttering shut as your hands found his, gripping them gently over your own skin.

He smiled against your ear before placing a long, lingering kiss on your cheek, tightening his embrace as if trying to merge with you.

You turned in his arms, but didn’t pull away, your bodies still pressed close.

Your fingers traveled up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his damp shirt. Slowly, they made their way up to his neck, then to his face. Your thumb traced a gentle path along his cheek, and for a brief moment, Warren closed his eyes as if savoring the sensation.

When he opened them again, the dimples were visible. His unruly curls fell over his face, even more endearing under the soft yellow kitchen light.

“I prefer you like this,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the soft texture. “Your hair is beautiful.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side, almost reflexively, as if your touch was pulling him in.

“I thought about cutting it,” he murmured, his voice quiet, hesitant. “I thought maybe I should look more like those neat, ‘normal’ guys... I don’t want people to look at us funny when we walk down the street together.”

You frowned.

“Don’t ever do that.”

Your tone came out firmer than you’d expected, and Warren’s gaze locked onto yours, searching your face. His expression softened, but his words were still filled with quiet resolve.

“Don’t change just to fit what others want, Warren. I like you just the way you are.”

He blinked, as if needing a second to process your words.

“You like me?”

The question came out in a disbelieving tone, almost startled.

You paused.

Only then did he realize the words that had slipped out, unfiltered, as if they were second nature to you. A warmth crept up his face, and his gaze faltered, as if he had just ruined the moment.

But Warren didn’t let it slip away.

His hands moved to your face, holding you with a gentle but firm grip, forcing you to look at him.

“I like you,” he said again, this time with more certainty. “I’m embarrassed to say things like this... I didn’t want you to open the note in front of me because I’m a shy idiot when it comes to stuff like this.”

He looked down, took a deep breath, and then met your eyes again.

Silence.

He was searching for the right words.

“It’s just that…” He swallowed hard. “You’re worth me losing my shyness. You’re worth changing.” His eyes studied every feature of your face. “Changing into a better man.”

There was something raw in his voice. A genuine longing.

“Clothes, shoes, hair... I want to be worthy of you. Because I know I never will be.”

“No, Warren.”

Your voice was almost a whisper, but it carried weight. You swallowed hard.

“You are worthy.”

He blinked, surprised.

“Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” You took a deep breath. “I know you’ve messed up in life. Who hasn’t? But that doesn’t define you.”

You hesitated for just a second, gathering your courage.

“You are Warren Lipka.”

A pause.

His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.

You closed your eyes for a moment before reopening them and saying the words that had been stuck in your throat:

“My Warren Lipka.”

His lips parted into a smile. He was trembling slightly, but it was the kind of tremor that came from someone trying to hold back something much larger, something he wasn’t ready to let out.

He leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to your forehead. His eyes fluttered shut before he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I like you.”

The confession came out as a whisper, thick with an emotion he hadn’t yet dared to name. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze intense.

The words I love you caught in his throat, but they were there, hanging in the air between you. You could feel it.

It was in the way his fingers trailed lightly down the back of your neck, as if testing the waters of something deeper. It was in the way his eyes burned with a desire to be closer, to bridge the gap between your souls.

“I like you too.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own feelings pressing down on you.

The silence cracked in the space between you, thick with unspoken words.

The moment felt too beautiful to be rushed by grand gestures, by too-big words.

“I really like you, Warren. A lot.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if savoring every syllable before pulling you into a tight embrace. His chest pressed against yours, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath the skin. His scent mixed with yours, a delicate blend that felt like home. And even without saying another word, you both knew.

You were his.

And he was yours.

For the whole night, if it came to that.

You stroked his hair gently before pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Want anything before we sleep?”

He mumbled something against your neck, his voice muffled. “Just you.”

“Then let’s get rid of these wet clothes before bed.” You smiled, tightening your arms around him. 

Warren sighed, reluctantly pulling away from you.

“Alright.”

He ran his hand through his hair, the curls even more charmingly messy now.

“You can shower first, I’ll wait for you in the room.” He stepped back to let you pass, then paused, glancing over his shoulder. “By the way... where’s your room?”

You pointed down the hallway to the door at the end. “That way.”

Warren followed the line of your finger, nodding his head.

“Thanks. I was worried I might end up in Luke’s room by mistake.”

You chuckled, already walking toward the bathroom. As you closed the door behind you, the last thing you heard was Warren’s muffled laughter echoing through the house, filling the air with warmth.

Your body craved water in the middle of the night, pulling you from sleep. The familiar warmth enveloped you, and you realized Warren was holding you close. His arm was firm around your waist, as though he wanted to keep you there forever. His chest rose and fell in a calm rhythm against your back, his messy hair brushing against your skin.

You tried to slip away slowly, careful not to wake him. His arm was heavy, but with gentle movements, you managed to free yourself from his embrace.

You got out of bed and walked quietly to the kitchen, your bare feet meeting the coolness of the floor. You poured the water into a glass and drank in silence. Flashes of last night danced through your mind��too vivid to be just a dream.

Warren had been in your room. He was still there, sleeping deeply, and that was proof everything had really happened.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you stood there.

Then, you remembered the note.

The one he’d written with the bouquet.

The one he’d asked you to read only after he’d left.

But… he was asleep. It wouldn’t hurt to look.

You tiptoed over to the table, carefully grabbed the note, and unfolded it. Your eyes ran over the first line.

“Hi, I don’t know how to start this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. You pressed your hand over your mouth to stifle the sound, but your eyes were already glued to the paper.

“I have a rulebook. It’s called The Great Guide for Jailbirds in Love. I wrote it in prison when I was thinking about getting out and how I wanted to build a family.

One of the rules is: haste is the enemy of perfection. That’s why it took me so long to tell you I love you from the first time I saw you.

But you know I’m all messed up and love breaking rules, right? You didn’t need that much time to see that.

Well… that’s it. I love you, princess. A lot.

P.S.: Sorry if I start a fight and then tell you I like you. I get really scared when it comes to love.

I love you forever.

—Warren Sillyka.

(Also, I love the nickname Luke gave me. Congrats on raising such a cool kid. You’re an amazing mom. I want to be his dad, if you’ll let me. But maybe that’s just an excuse to wake up by your side every day. Now I’m talking too much. xo.)”

Your heart tightened.

You read the note once, twice, over and over again.

The “I love you” was there, unafraid. No hesitation.

You felt a smile stretch across your face before you even realized it, and with the note pressed to your chest like it was the most precious treasure in the world, you returned to the bedroom.

Back to Warren.

Back to the arms that, even in sleep, seemed to know exactly where you belonged.

Rule #7: Forgiveness Is Not Forgetting

The week flowed with the softness and intensity of a fast-moving river, its days drifting by in a harmony that felt almost like a dream. What once seemed trivial and mundane became extraordinary. Warren and you found yourselves closer than either of you had expected, a bond deepening without words, but through subtle gestures and glances that spoke volumes. You would purposely brush against each other, exchanging discreet smiles, your hands almost imperceptibly grazing as he, with a natural ease that felt rehearsed, would wrap his arm around your waist, as if by instinct—catching you before you could fall, though perhaps trying to keep you from losing yourself in something far greater.

The most intimate moments began to intensify. During lunch breaks, conversations flowed easily, often veering down paths that felt deeper than any trivial subject. And when no one was watching, the kisses in the storage room tasted of secrets and freedom.

It was a Friday afternoon when everything seemed even more vibrant, almost unreal. Luke, with that pink bubblegum sticking to his lips, was animatedly chatting with Warren, who leaned casually against the counter. Standing tall, he looked like a protective wall, listening intently to every word from the boy, even if their conversation was lighthearted and playful.

"Caleb the Giant knocked over my headphones, and you know what happened?" Luke said, his little legs swinging restlessly in the high chair, more excited than anyone else in the room.

"Oh, it was nothing, just a master move, huh?" Warren grinned, his eyes sparkling as he raised his hand for a high-five. Their laughter echoed through the space, but suddenly, he seemed to remember his role as the "adult." He straightened up, more serious now, though still maintaining a gentle tone. "But don't fight, Luke. Fighting never solves anything, even if Caleb is a walking bore."

Luke pouted, crossing his arms with a scowl. "That's not fair, Warren. You were cooler. Now you're starting to sound like my mom."

"And your mom is right, you know?" Warren sighed, still trying to maintain his responsible demeanor, but it was clear he spoke from his own experience. "Fighting only creates more trouble. But if anyone challenges you, you have to stay polite. Just say, 'No, thank you.'"

Luke wrinkled his nose, clearly skeptical of how effective that suggestion would be. "That doesn’t work with Caleb," he muttered, throwing his arms up in frustration as if the solution were just out of reach.

"He does that because, deep down, he’s jealous, Luke." Warren spoke in a more serious tone now, but it also carried a surprising understanding. "Believe me, I know what I’m talking about. People like Caleb do things like that because they don’t have what you have. He may have all the cool toys, but... what about the rest?"

"But he's rich, Warren! He has everything he wants!" Luke countered, a skeptical look in his eyes as if that was the explanation that should settle everything.

"It’s not just about what he has, Luke." Warren smiled wearily, leaning against the counter, his arm stretched out, his calm expression hiding a subtle bitterness. "Try forgiving him. That’ll throw him off. It’ll mess with his ego, be the ultimate power move. And you’ll have more control than you think."

"Forgive him?" Luke looked puzzled, his head tilted adorably as he mulled over the suggestion. "If I tell him I forgive him, it’ll be worse. He'll laugh at me again and spread it around that I’m a coward."

"That kid’s the real coward, Luke," Warren grumbled, almost without realizing he was dropping the "responsible adult" mask he was trying to maintain. "But look, if he keeps it up, you can play your final card: tell him you’ve got a bodyguard who's ready to stop all the bullying in the world."

Luke’s eyes lit up, immediately excited as if he’d found a new lever to pull. "And who’s this bodyguard?"

Warren, with a mischievous grin and an easygoing look in his eyes, extended his hand to the boy, exuding the confidence of someone who knew exactly the power a simple gesture could hold. "Warren Lipka, at your service, secret agent to Luke."

"Awesome!" Luke couldn’t contain his joy, raising his arms in an impromptu celebration as if he had already conquered the world.

"Warren, are you busy today?"

You stepped out of the office, a stack of papers clutched in your hands, your phone pressed against your neck, while your disheveled hair fell messily over your face. Your expression was tense, betraying the chaos of the day. You couldn’t help but move hurriedly, your eyes glued to the phone as if it were the only thing keeping you afloat in the storm.

"No, what’s up?" Warren asked, his brow furrowing in immediate concern. He approached you with quick, purposeful steps, his gaze locked on your tense face. He knew that when you looked like this, something urgent was happening.

"I need you to watch Luke." You replied, your voice tight and direct. Snatching the phone from your hands, you typed quickly, your mind racing at full speed. "I’ve got a parent-teacher meeting today, and his doctor just called me. She needs me to come in urgently. I’ll stop by Elizabeth’s to grab his gift while I’m at it."

"So, you’re going to be out the rest of the day?" Warren asked, his eyes never leaving you for a second, like he was trying to gauge what else might be coming.

"Pretty much." You exhaled sharply, frustration escaping through your teeth. Your phone wouldn’t stop vibrating, adding to the pressure already mounting inside you. "Damn, I have to go now. You can close early if you need to. If it gets tough, and if he wants to go out, be careful with the people around. If he starts getting too stressed, give him his headphones, okay?"

"Got it." Warren nodded, trying to process the flood of information while you already began to move, ready to leave.

"Thanks, Warren. Bye." You said, giving him a quick peck on the lips—a brief, yet meaningful gesture—before you hurried toward the door.

"Hey." He called, his hands automatically running through his messy hair. He straightened up and looked at you with a soft smile, his demeanor calming. "Now, that’s better. Bye."

"Thanks. I owe you one." You shouted over your shoulder, already heading out the door, your footsteps echoing quickly down the corridor. On the way, you dropped your phone, muttering a curse under your breath as you bent down to pick it up.

At least Luke hadn’t heard the mutterings under your breath, and without wasting any more time, you jumped into the car and sped off toward your appointments.

“It’s… four-thirty…” Warren started, adjusting the watch on his wrist before casting an amused glance at Luke, who was practically bouncing out of his chair. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his calm tone contrasting with the boy’s energetic excitement. "How about we finish our work quickly and then hit the mall?"

“Yay!” Luke shouted, his little eyes sparkling with excitement as he sprang out of his seat. He grabbed Warren’s hand, eager to rush down the hallway. "Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!"

“Why the rush, little man?” Warren laughed softly, matching Luke's quick pace until they reached the middle of the aisle, between shelves of cookies and snacks. He placed his hands on his hips, relaxed yet alert, like he was in perfect sync with the boy. "Let’s get the work done properly first, before anything else."

“It’s because there’s a giant octopus at the mall!” Luke exclaimed, releasing Warren’s hand and already hopping around in impatient excitement, eyes glued to him, waiting for him to start opening boxes.

“An octopus, huh?” Warren raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile creeping onto his face as he sliced open the box with a pocketknife, careful not to nick Luke’s small hands. He tucked the knife into his pocket efficiently and, with the other hand, began organizing products onto the higher shelves.

“It’s not a real octopus, Warren. I’m a kid, not stupid.” Luke teased, laughing as he grabbed a pack of chocolate cookies. He placed it within his reach, his eyes lighting up with the idea. "It’s like a ferris wheel for kids. And I love octopuses! My favorite is theGrimpoteuthis, or dumbo octopus if you find it hard to say. "

“What do you like so much about octopuses?” Warren asked, genuinely curious, continuing the tedious task. He leaned slightly forward to reach the top shelves, but his eyes never left Luke, interested in what he might say next.

“I really love octopuses.” Luke answered, his enthusiasm contagious, pausing to share his thoughts while still working. "Octopuses have 8 tentacles, and it’s almost the same distance I have from my mom. We have 7 years and 7 months between us."

“Wow…” Warren said, impressed but still keeping his playful tone. "But hey, let’s focus on the work, little guy. We can’t waste time on this right now, or the squid will be gone." He winked, teasing lightly, but with a smile on his face.

“It’s not a squid, it’s an octopus.” Luke rolled his eyes, chuckling as he returned to his task. He seemed to find a nice balance between being serious and playful. "Wanna hear more octopus facts?"

“Sure. Hit me with it.” Warren chuckled softly, his eyes bright with genuine interest in what Luke might say next. He admired the boy—his mini-me, but with his own spark. He wondered silently how you had managed to raise someone so wonderful, someone who, despite everything, remained so pure and curious.

“Okay, here it is. Did you know octopuses have three hearts?” Luke asked, his voice full of anticipation, his eyes locked on Warren’s face as he quickened his work pace, grabbing packages with the efficiency of someone used to the job.

“Three hearts? That’s a lot.” Warren mused, tapping his chin casually, though his eyes remained focused on the task at hand. He picked up the heavier packages with precision, his posture relaxed but attentive, and his curiosity piqued by the conversation.

“Yeah. And did you know they have blue blood?”

“No way, you’re lying.” Warren teased, laughing softly when he saw Luke’s mock angry expression. He could tell the boy was eager to show off his knowledge. "I’m kidding. Why is it blue?"

“They have hemocyanin. I don’t know what that means, but my mom said that cyan means blue.” Luke explained with a thoughtful expression, and Warren nodded along, showing he was listening carefully.

“Did you know they’re super smart?”

“Oh, I know. I saw this crazy video of them escaping from aquariums.” Warren perked up, his voice rising a little with excitement, but he quickly caught himself. He didn’t want to sound like he was just telling any random story. The truth was, he’d watched those videos trying to learn escape strategies—something he never thought he’d need in real life. "But I get what you're saying. Octopuses are smart."

"Yeah, some even solve puzzles!" Luke shared, rubbing his hands together and shaking off the dust that clung to his fingers. He beamed with pride, happy to be teaching Warren something new. "I’m done."

“Me too, just one little thing...” Warren squinted, adjusting the price on a package of cookies that had been mis-labeled. He seemed more focused on the task now, but his eyes were still on Luke, keeping watch. "There. All done. Let’s go."

After getting into the car, Warren began to feel something new, something different from anything he’d experienced before. He glanced in the rearview mirror, checking that Luke was safe in the back seat, and a sense of belonging and purpose filled him. He found himself in a role he’d never imagined taking: someone who truly cared for another person, simply and genuinely. As he drove, he guided Luke, asking him not to stick his head too far out the window, helping with the small things the boy couldn’t quite understand or process.

For a moment, Warren felt as though he was healing something inside himself, something that had been lost along the way. He saw Luke as a kind of mission, a purpose. Taking care of him was something Warren never expected, but now it felt like something he would always do, a silent bond that couldn’t be broken, no matter what was happening around them. He knew Luke wasn’t his biological son, but there was something more, something neither he nor you dared to admit. The truth was simple, yet complex: family wasn’t just made of blood.

“Stay there, I’ll open the door.” Warren gently indicated, walking around the car to open the door for Luke. “Can you unbuckle your seatbelt and get out by yourself?”

“I can.” Luke replied confidently, stretching his legs to jump out of the car, but before he made any move, he asked a curious question, his eyes fixed on Warren as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Hey, why do you open the door for mom if she can get out by herself when she’s with me?”

“It’s chivalry, Luke. It’s a nice gesture that shows how much I care about her.” Warren answered with a sincere smile, carefully closing the car door to avoid hitting any of Luke’s limbs, even though the little boy was already far from the door. His posture was relaxed, but he was still focused on what he was doing.

“Hmm, so all the men who do that really like the women they’re with?”

“Most of them just don’t like seeing the car scratched or the door broken because they don’t trust the girls.” Warren replied with a playful tone, but also curious about Luke’s question. He took the boy’s hand as Luke extended it, beginning to walk side by side through the shopping mall.

“Do you think that about mom sometimes?” Luke looked up at him with curious eyes, as though the answer had a much deeper meaning than he realized.

“Only sometimes, when she’s wearing those huge heels or when she’s mad about something.” Warren responded with grace, trying to lighten the mood while holding Luke’s small hand. “Is she always that scary when she’s mad?”

“Very much. Uncle Daniel says she’s always been like that. One day he even wanted to call the police.” Luke revealed, squeezing Warren’s hand a little harder, as if sharing an important secret, a revelation. His tone grew more serious, as if he were sharing something he’d heard many times before.

Uncle Daniel? That echoed in Warren’s mind. He realized that Luke still didn’t know who his father was, and it caused a strange pang of discomfort inside him. But he forced himself to continue the conversation without letting that thought take over. What mattered at that moment was that Luke was right there beside him, and he wanted to make the most of it.

“Hey, why do you always wear headphones? Do you really like music that much?” Warren asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Luke’s father, as if the silence between them could ease the growing tension in his mind.

“My ears hurt if I listen to too much loud noise. My mom said I’ve been like this since I was little.” Luke revealed, and Warren felt his mind grow even more confused with this information. He was trying to make sense of it all but decided to leave the topic for now.

“You’re still little, Luke.”

“Boring.” Luke stuck out his tongue at him, but his smile quickly returned, and Warren couldn’t help but laugh with him. “You’re the strangest adult I’ve ever met, Warren.”

“And you’re the strangest kid I’ve ever met, Luke. We’re even.” Warren teased, beginning to swing their hands as they walked. He felt a connection with Luke, a strange sense that, despite everything he had gone through, maybe—just maybe—he could be a good example for this boy.

“Everyone says I should be normal and that I’m weird. I get sad about it. But it’s different with you.” Luke smiled, and those words made Warren’s heart tighten. He felt something so strong, as if he were seeing Luke’s true pain right there, but also his strength.

Luke was an incredible kid, too good for the world he’d been given. He didn’t deserve any of it, but Warren knew that, somehow, he could still be a part of Luke’s life, doing whatever he could to help him. He didn’t know the reason for Luke’s suffering, but something inside him told him that, if he could change anything, he would do everything possible to make sure Luke had a lighter future.

“You know, being normal is boring. Normal people are boring.” Warren began, cracking his neck slightly to ease the tension that was starting to build up. The conversation was taking a lighter tone, but he knew the impact his words could have. “One day, I told your mom I wanted to be normal, and she told me never to do that. She likes me the way I am. That’s really important.”

“She says that to me too, but she’s my mom.” Luke whined, swinging his hands together in a slightly exaggerated way, still with that tone of someone wanting to express all his frustration but not knowing how. It was as if the boy had some doubt about what it truly meant to be "normal" and how he fit into this world.

“But this time, I’m the one saying it.” Warren replied, now with a calm that almost sounded wise, as if the words were coming from a place of real experience and understanding. “Next time someone calls you weird, know that it’s a compliment.”

Luke seemed to absorb the information, and a shy smile appeared on his face, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Okay.” The boy’s expression, which had been heavy, was now more comfortable, lighter. Slowly, he was starting to understand that being who he was was fine, and he didn’t need to fit into molds imposed by others.

As they walked through the mall, Warren kept his thoughts focused and serious. He knew that, no matter how simple they seemed, people’s internal battles, even the smallest ones like Luke’s, were real. They were so different, yet so similar. Each had their own fears and sadness, and sometimes the pain seemed to come from such unexpected places. Luke was still so young, yet already felt loneliness, which made Warren’s heart tighten. He knew he couldn’t let that continue. He didn’t want Luke to feel how he sometimes did—lost and alone.

“Is that the octopus over there?” Warren asked, pointing to the children’s ride with a giant purple, colorful octopus, where a few kids were having fun, looping around and shouting with joy. He tried to steer the conversation toward something lighter, something they could both enjoy together.

“Yeah. I have the little card from when I came with my mom.” Luke said, all excited, grabbing his little backpack and opening it quickly to pull out his Aquamen card, which made Warren smile. The boy had a habit of holding on to memories, and it made Warren feel a pang of tenderness. “Here it is!” He showed the card with a victorious expression.

“Good taste, kid.” Warren teased, admiring the boy’s dedication to keeping that card with so much care. He walked over to the reception, validated the card, and added credits, always keeping Luke’s hand between his, as if not wanting the boy to get lost in the sea of people. It was their first outing, and in a way, Warren felt like a real father, trying to protect and make everything perfect for Luke. The attendant handed the card back, and Warren smiled as he returned it to the boy. “All set, let’s go.”

“Aaaayyy!!” Luke exclaimed, his hands clapping joyfully as he ran toward the line, jumping and skipping with contagious energy. “Come on, Warren!” He looked back over his shoulder, with that big, radiant smile, waiting for Warren to follow him.

“I’m coming.” Warren laughed, running to catch up with the boy. He already knew how important it was for Luke to have someone there, someone to trust. As he reached the ride, he placed a careful hand on the boy’s shoulders. “Alright, I’m here. You’re up next. Have fun. I’ll be right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Luke nodded, eagerly climbing into the seat of the ride. He looked a little nervous, but at the same time, his smile showed he was ready to face whatever came next. The attendant adjusted the safety belt, and Luke stayed there, firm, eager for the fun that was about to begin.

As the ride started to ascend, Warren watched Luke’s face carefully. He saw the boy’s smile expand, as if the whole world was too small to contain the happiness he was feeling at that moment. It was a genuine smile, the kind that only appears when someone is truly enjoying themselves. Luke’s expression was pure wonder, and Warren felt a deep sense of satisfaction, as if his mission was being fulfilled.

He stayed there, waiting, watching, feeling time pass in a more peaceful way. The octopus made a full rotation, and Luke waved from the top, his hands flailing, while his face lit up with contagious joy. Warren smiled back, a silent laugh escaping his lips, and moved a bit away, looking for a nearby bench to sit and wait. He bought a bag of popcorn, trying to distract himself a bit as time passed.

But inside, he was calm. The feeling of being there, part of this moment in Luke's life, was more than he had expected. It was as if, somehow, he had found a piece of himself in that boy. Something he hadn’t realized was missing.

Warren walked over to a distant bench, where exhausted parents occupied the seats, their faces revealing the weight of a long day, toys in hand, and tired gazes that said more than words ever could. But while he tried to distract himself by observing the scene around him, something caught his attention. Daniel was there. He appeared at the amusement station, his face weary, eyes slightly misty from exhaustion, still sporting a faint bruise that seemed to silently tell a story. Their eyes met. Warren felt a pang of guilt. That man still represented a part of an unresolved past, but he didn’t want to deal with that now. He waved briefly, averting his eyes from Daniel and focusing again on Luke, as if the problem wasn’t standing right in front of him. But, contrary to his plans, Daniel approached, walking with a downcast look, like a defeated lamb, carrying an invisible pain.

He stayed there, waiting, watching, feeling time pass in a more peaceful way. The octopus made a full rotation, and Luke waved from the top, his hands flailing, while his face lit up with contagious joy. Warren smiled back, a silent laugh escaping his lips, and moved a bit away, looking for a nearby bench to sit and wait. He bought a bag of popcorn, trying to distract himself a bit as time passed.

But inside, he was calm. The feeling of being there, part of this moment in Luke's life, was more than he had expected. It was as if, somehow, he had found a piece of himself in that boy. Something he hadn’t realized was missing.

Warren walked over to a distant bench, where exhausted parents occupied the seats, their faces revealing the weight of a long day, toys in hand, and tired gazes that said more than words ever could. But while he tried to distract himself by observing the scene around him, something caught his attention. Daniel was there. He appeared at the amusement station, his face weary, eyes slightly misty from exhaustion, still sporting a faint bruise that seemed to silently tell a story. Their eyes met. Warren felt a pang of guilt. That man still represented a part of an unresolved past, but he didn’t want to deal with that now. He waved briefly, averting his eyes from Daniel and focusing again on Luke, as if the problem wasn’t standing right in front of him. But, contrary to his plans, Daniel approached, walking with a downcast look, like a defeated lamb, carrying an invisible pain.

“Can I sit here?” Daniel's voice was low, almost as if he feared the answer, as if even the simple act of asking for permission was a burden for him.

“It’s a free country.” Warren replied, with a neutral tone, polite but carrying the coldness of someone wanting to maintain distance. He shifted slightly to the side, making no real effort to hide his internal irritation.

Daniel sat beside Warren in silence, his hands crossed almost defensively. His posture was slumped, eyes heavy with deep dark circles, as if he carried not just physical tiredness but an emotional weight that he couldn’t let go. He sniffed once, the sound almost lost in the tension between them.

“Did you come here to get hit again?” Warren asked bluntly, grabbing a handful of popcorn and tossing it into his mouth. The question was direct, cutting, as if he wanted to wound that man a little more with his indifference.

“No… Actually, I was passing by and remembered this place.” Daniel said, looking around, his eyes lost in something distant, as if the memories of those times suddenly overtook him. “I came here with her when Luke was a baby.”

Warren didn’t answer. He only nodded, a small gesture, no words. He didn’t have much to say, nothing that would really matter in that moment.

“Honey broke up with me.” Daniel sighed heavily, as if the weight had been lifted from his shoulders, an unasked-for confession. “The same day, in front of everyone.”

Warren responded automatically, with visible boredom in his voice. “Sorry to hear that.” He wasn’t interested in sympathizing with Daniel anymore. The sad version of the blond man was starting to irritate him.

“I paid so much for that party. I did everything she asked. She drained every penny I had saved in my savings account.” Daniel continued, completely ignoring Warren’s grimace, unloading another piece of his pain. “She never had to ask me for anything, even when I insisted.”

“She?” Warren repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He knew exactly who he was talking about, no need to mention her name. He had heard it all before, and the frustration was beginning to build inside him.

“I was so jealous when I saw you two together for the first time.” Daniel confessed, his body sinking into the bench as if gravity itself was pulling him down, too weak to fight the weight of his own words. “We hadn’t spoken in years. I found out she never dated anyone after we broke up. Then, when I saw you together, with Luke smiling like he never did with me, my brain short-circuited.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” Warren scoffed, rolling his eyes with an impatient tone. “Your big idea was to throw a wedding invitation at her?” He couldn’t hold it back anymore. The irritation was visible, and the words came with a subtle venom. He didn’t want to know about Daniel’s feelings, or his old frustrations. He wanted to focus on the present, and Daniel didn’t belong in that picture.

“I went crazy, don’t blame me.” Daniel said, his expression twisting with discomfort, fingers messing with his once-blond hair, which now looked dull and lifeless. “Deep down, I always knew I liked her, and I was looking for someone shallow to replace her. Someone who didn’t know anything about me, and I could pretend to be someone else to escape the past.”

“Then why did you leave her?” Warren cut through Daniel’s words sharply, almost like a knife. His voice was threatening, and Daniel instinctively clicked his tongue, letting out a frustrated huff. He knew that question didn’t have an easy answer, but Warren wanted to hear it from Daniel. Why all this mess?

“I never abandoned her.” Daniel grumbled, running his hand over his head, as if trying to push away the painful memories that still haunted him. “I just didn’t know how to take care of Luke. That’s all. I didn’t… know how to deal with him. It was getting on my nerves. Consuming me. I couldn’t concentrate on college and my parents are rigid about it. Every time I had to take him to the doctor or something.” 

Warren felt anger bubbling up inside him. “And what’s so bad about that kid that you’d do something like that?” The question came out almost as a shout, his patience already at its limit. He closed the popcorn bag tightly, his fist clenched, trying to control the fury that was about to explode.

“He’s not normal. You must know that. You don’t need to be an expert to see it.” Daniel pointed at Luke, who was still playing away, before turning back to Warren, as if trying to justify himself. “When he was born, he cried all the fucking time. After a while, he started to be quiet like a mouse. He wouldn’t express anything, wouldn’t talk. We took him to the doctor and they said they didn’t know what was wrong.” 

Warren's stiffness eased a bit. He leaned back in his seat, listening to the story, trying to keep control and process what Daniel was saying.

“I always liked parties and all. Whenever there was one at home, Luke wouldn't stop crying for a second.��� Daniel continued, rubbing his tired eyes, a shadow of regret beginning to appear in his voice. “He didn't like being picked up, he bit people, kicked them. He was violent. He was a... freak.”

Warren bit back the curse that was about to come out, his fists clenched, his body tense as he tried to listen without losing his train of thought. “Freak.” The word felt like a punch to the stomach. He wanted to scream, but he forced himself to stay silent.

“I left them alone when he was about 9 months old. I couldn't stand living with it anymore. I thought: it was an accident, so why should i care?” Daniel's voice broke, and his lips trembled, as if confessing was torture. “Today I regret that.”

“Good for you, you should suffer more.” Warren spat, his voice cold as ice, uncrumpling the popcorn bag and grabbing another handful, his stomach churning. He didn’t want to feel sorry for Daniel, not after everything he’d done.

“So I heard from a phone call when he was three and a half.” Daniel trailed off, sobbing, his breathing heavy as he ran a hand over his chest. “Claire. My sister… Told me Luke was autistic.”

At that moment, Daniel broke down. He began to cry, his hands on his head, his shoulders shaking with each sob. Warren’s eyes widened, a little disconcerted. He looked around, desperately searching for something to distract himself, but here they were, in the center of everything, in a public scene he didn’t know how to handle.

At first, he hesitated, but something forced him to reach out. He placed his hand on Daniel’s back, a clumsy attempt to calm the man, trying to at least appear decent in the face of his pain. 

“She… raised money and went to these expensive doctors by herself and found out about this.” Daniel continued, his words coming out in a disjointed way as he wiped his face with his shirt. “She didn’t tell me about this. She found out from my sister. I tried to help, but she wouldn’t. She said I was fucking dead to her. I’ve never seen them since that day. Luke doesn’t even know who I am.” 

Warren felt a tightness in his chest, but his anger didn’t go away. He couldn’t let this go.

“Man, you were the biggest jerk ever.” The words came out harsh, but necessary. He caught Daniel’s attention with a simple but cutting sentence. 

“What?”

“You were an idiot. The worst.” Warren continued, shaking his head in disapproval. “I know she forgave you, I do too. I can’t even imagine what the first few years must have been like…” 

“Then why does she treat me like this if she forgives me?” Daniel interrupted, his voice desperate, his pain showing, but also his confusion and wounded pride. 

“Forgiving isn’t the same as forgetting,” Warren said, his voice firm, almost emotionless, as he removed his hands from Daniel’s back, wiping them on his pants. “And she’ll never forget this, Daniel. It’s her son.”

“I know.” Daniel sniffed, running a hand over his face, and a hint of remorse showed in his eyes, but it seemed too late. “I know…”

“Uncle Dan?” Luke asked curiously, his voice soft. Warren didn’t even realize when the boy had gotten off the ride. He was so immersed in his own thoughts that everything around him seemed distant.

“Hey, baby octopus.” Daniel answered in a forced voice, trying to sound cheerful, but the smile he tried to show didn’t convince anyone.

“Are you okay?” Luke frowned, approaching him, his big, sincere eyes full of concern.

“Yes, I am, Luke. Thanks for asking.” Daniel smiled back, but the expression was an effort, his body tired and his mind restless. He forced himself to get up from the bench, trying to hide the weight of the situation. “It’s time for me to go.”

“You’re leaving?” Luke tilted his head to the side, visibly disconcerted. He looked at Daniel, who just nodded silently, as if that were explanation enough.

“I have to take care of some things.” Daniel lied, forcing his throat not to tighten. He didn't want the boy to see the pain in his eyes. Not now.

“Take care, okay?” Warren was sincere. Even though he hated him, he was still as complicated a person as he was.

“Thanks. Bye, Luke.” Daniel finally said, waving quickly before turning his back and walking towards the exit, his posture hunched, as if he carried more than just regret. His footsteps echoed as he walked away, disappearing into the crowds of the park.

Luke looked at the place where Daniel had gone, confused, as if he was trying to understand what had happened, but couldn't. He then turned to Warren.

“What happened to Uncle Dan?” Luke asked, his voice soft and full of uncertainty.

“Adults complicating simple things.” Warren replied, trying to make the moment seem light. He shook the empty popcorn bag, trying to mask the feeling of emptiness that still accompanied him. “Want some?” He offered the bag to Luke, but he knew the little boy wasn't interested.

“I want a burger.” Luke replied with a mischievous and defiant smile, taking Warren's hand again, as if it were something natural, as if they were together in any situation, without the complications of adult life.

“You'll owe me that trip when you're an adult. I'm getting my pockets empty.” Warren smiled, feeling a little lightness return to his heart. He threw the bag of popcorn in the trash with a determined gesture. “But I also want to eat something with more substance. Will you have some soda?”

“My mom won't let me.” Luke pouted as he started walking, his hand still firmly in Warren's. “She says I'll grow up with bad bones, she only gives me juice. She makes beetroot, orange and carrot juice for breakfast.”

“Typical of your mother. I hate beets.” Warren rolled his eyes, letting out a light, more relaxed laugh. He always found it funny how some mothers could be so strict about certain foods.

“I hate it too. It's so disgusting.” Luke whispered, almost as if he was confessing a deep secret, something that no one should ever know. 

Their laughter was spontaneous, a moment of complicity that made the day a little brighter. Despite all the heavy revelations that were still engraved in his heart, Warren knew that what mattered at that moment was to make Luke smile. He wanted, for a brief moment, to banish the ghosts of the past and give the boy something simple: happiness. 

“I bet you’ve never had Pepsi with lime.” Warren said, raising an eyebrow, trying to spice up the conversation with something fun. He started walking towards the fast food joint, determined to do what every father would do: spoil good habits with a pinch of fun, lots of sugar and fries to go with it. It was a small diversion, but he knew that these small gestures could mean the world to Luke.

[april-is]

April 29, 2025: Greensickness, Laurel Chen

Greensickness Laurel Chen

after Gwendolyn Brooks

My wild grief didn’t know where to end. Everywhere I looked: a field alive and unburied. Whole swaths of green swallowed the light. All around me, the field was growing. I grew out My hair in every direction. Let the sun freckle my face. Even in the greenest depths, I crouched Towards the light. That summer, everything grew So alive and so alone. A world hushed in green. Wildest grief grew inside out.

I crawled to the field’s edge, bruises blooming In every crevice of my palms. I didn’t know I’d reached a shoreline till I felt it There: A salt wind lifted The hair from my neck. At the edge of every green lies an ocean. When I saw that blue, I knew then: This world will end.

Grief is not the only geography I know. Every wound closes. Repair comes with sweetness, Come spring. Every empire will fall: I must believe this. I felt it Somewhere in the field: my ancestors Murmuring Go home, go home—soon, soon. No country wants me back anymore and I’m okay.

If grief is love with nowhere to go, then Oh, I’ve loved so immensely. That summer, everything I touched Was green. All bruises will fade From green and blue to skin. Let me grow through this green And not drown in it. Let me be lawless and beloved, Ungovernable and unafraid. Let me be brave enough to live here. Let me be precise in my actions. Let me feel hurt. I know I can heal. Let me try again—again and again.

--

From the author: "This poem was inspired by Gwendolyn Brooks’s poem 'To the Young Who Want to Die,’ which ends with the lines, ‘Graves grow no green that you can use. / Remember, green’s your color. You are Spring.’ This poem articulates my belief that grief isn’t a dead thing; it’s very much alive and continues to shape how I grow and live in this world. This poem says: healing is forever, another world is possible, and no nation will protect us, only we will."

Today in: 2024: from Gaza, Summer 2006, Jasmine Donahaye 2023: June, Alex Dimitrov 2022: Poem to My Child, If Ever You Shall Be, Ross Gay 2021: Choi Jeong Min, Franny Choi 2020: Earl, Louis Jenkins 2019: Kul, Fatimah Asghar 2018: My Life Was the Size of My Life, Jane Hirshfield 2017: I Would Ask You To Reconsider The Idea That Things Are As Bad As They’ve Ever Been, Hanif Abdurraqib 2016: Tired, Langston Hughes 2015: Democracy, Langston Hughes 2014: Postscript, Seamus Heaney 2013: The Ghost of Frank O’Hara, John Yohe 2012: All Objects Reveal Something About the Body, Catie Rosemurgy 2011: Prayer, Marie Howe 2010: The Talker, Chelsea Rathburn 2009: There Are Many Theories About What Happened, John Gallagher 2008: bon bon il est un pays, Samuel Beckett 2007: Root root root for the home team, Bob Hicok 2006: Fever 103°, Sylvia Plath 2005: King Lear Considers What He’s Wrought, Melissa Kirsch

[stabmeagainchucky]

Prompt: After watching Jason for a few months since he returned to Gotham, (post season two of Titans) you notice something is off. You might be years retired from doing anything vigilante like but you aren’t going to stand there and let someone burn themselves out like Jason is.

Extra tags: piv, reader called pretty

Bruce hadn’t even noticed how skittish and scared of everything Jason had been. You instead noticed it, having taken over as much of a role as you could when Alfred suddenly dropped dead. Jason was dragging his feet and being worse than he’d been before he’d gotten shipped off to San Francisco. This wasn’t typical teenager behavior. This was someone who was scared down to his bones.

You set a tray of coffee and sandwiches down next to him where he sits in the library. He glances up at you, surprised that you’re doing this still after days of you seeming to ignore him.

“Bruce send you to check on me?” He scoffs a bit, green eyes looking you over.

“Nah.” You sit across from him, legs crossed. “You’re trying to bury yourself in books, Jay. It’s okay to ask for help.” Another scoff as he rolls his eyes. “You haven’t been right since you came back. What did Dick let happen to you.”

“Pretty,” Jason tried to put a bit of lear into saying his nickname for you. You weren’t going to fall for him trying to distract you. “It’s none of your business. I can deal with my own shit.”

You decide to move over close to him. If he’s going to try this, you’ll take it. He’d always been flirting with you before when he was underage. Maybe it’ll get him to open up. You reach up and card your fingers through his brown curls. He practically melts and groans, looking up at you eyes half lidded.

“That’s not fair, Pretty.” You see the light jeans he’s wearing tighten as you start scratching his head gently. His hand drifts down and he tries to subtly palm himself, hiding an attempt at pinching himself to keep himself from getting fully hard.

“Just tell me what happened and I’ll keep doing this.” You lean down and whisper in his ear, before nipping at the beauty marks on his earlobe. He groans in response and you allow a hand to join his. There’s a half chub under your hand and you just casually let your thumb drift over it. Jason looks up at you, his eyes almost rolling.

“Definitely not fair. Using the fact that I made it clear in the two years that I’ve been here that I want to fuck you.” You let out a giggle as Jason’s calloused hand reaches up to play with the strings on your shirt. He lets out a huff as he moves his hand up to your neck. “I nearly died, twice.” You squeeze his cock through his jeans and he lets out another groan. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna pin you down.”

“Super strength, Jay.” You lean down, allowing his large hand to wrap around the front of your delicate throat. He lets out a dry chuckle and tightens his grip on your throat. “You couldn’t pin me if you wanted to.”

“I can still try.” He bucks his hips up into your hand and you unbutton his jeans. “Wanted this for so long.” His cock springs free and you look down to examine it. He’s uncut and thick, maybe six inches. He glances from your face down to his cock, moving his hips so his cock nudges your hand. You wrap your hand around him, barely fitting simply on account of your small hands. The hand on your throat trails down and he’s back to playing with the strings on your shirt, occasionally reaching down to grope your breasts.

His eyes shutter close as you stroke him slowly, your thumb brushing over the tip as his foreskin followed your hand.

“Fuck, Pretty.” He looks up at you and slides a hand up under your shirt. You pull back for a second and pull the shirt off, carefully laying it down on the arm of the couch next to him. He reaches up and undoes the clasp at the front of your bra, moving both cups to the side so your heavy breasts dangle there. “Fucking beautiful.” His hands reach up and he palms both of your breasts, thumbs running over your nipples, causing pebbling.

You let out a soft moan as he lifts your breasts and let them drop. You can’t help it but you finally lean forward and kiss him, biting into his plush lips. He squeezes your breasts and bucks his hips. You pull back and wiggle your pants off, old underwear that you wouldn’t think would be sexy showing off, but Jason eagerly watches you, his tank top getting peeled off, showing off his toned physique and the little bit of hair he was starting to grow on his chest. His jeans join yours on the floor and he looks you over in such a way that you feel shy. He grabs your hips and easily throws you onto the other end of the couch, slotting himself between your legs, his cock grinding against your core.

“Gonna fucking worship you like the goddess that you are.” He leans down and kisses you roughly, his hands wandering all over your body, grabbing your ass. Without warning, he starts kissing down your body, as if he’s savoring each and every inch of you. His tongue flicks over your core, hitting your clit on the first try as if he was trained to find it. You moan and grip his hair, pulling on the curls as he looks up at you, kissing and licking like he was a man starved. A whimper leaves your lips as he flicks his tongue over your hole before pushing it in, the length of his tongue hitting you in the right spots. You rock your hips onto his face when he finds your most sensitive spot. It’s been a while since someone found that spot.

“Jason….” You whimper as he keeps pushing you towards your climax. His mouth covers your clit and he just sucks, pushing his fingers into you and working them, making you see stars with each moment of stimulation.

“Jay…Jay..Jay.” His name is a chant, pounding deep in your chest and suddenly he pulls back, panting. His cock is dripping between his legs, full mast and everything. He pulls himself up with a grin, his hands on your hips and you feel a pressure between your legs as he pushes in. Your legs tangle around his waist and your fingers curl into his hair. He leans forward and buries his face in your neck, moaning and groaning in such a way that it only turns you on more. His thrusts are jerky and you can tell that he’s just as close as you are.

“Goddamnit, Pretty.” He moans in your ear as he thrusts deep inside of you. “Gonna cum. Gonna cum hard. Fuck. You’re tight.” You moan as he starts kissing your neck, nipping along your pulse point. “You gonna cum, Pretty?” You nod and he grins against your skin. “Good girl. Gonna fill you up good.” His hips buck wildly and he lets out a final groan, still moving to try to get you to the climax like he is. It’s sudden when it comes and you clench hard around him. He lets out a groan as you soak through the couch from how hard you came. He pulls his head back, his hand reaching up to touch your face.

“I’m happy I didn’t die. This was heavenly.” He bows his head against yours, looking you directly into the eye. You didn’t solve what you had originally set out to solve but you at least gave him something to focus on. Hopefully that would help with his mood.