#and i know i'll be gone all weekend so it's not the greatest time to try and revive him

[entiretorridaffair]

it's just that..... if i wanted to know who you were hanging with while i was gone i would have asked you. i have this dream you're doing cool shit, having adventures on your own. you meet some woman on the internet and take her home. but if it's all the same to you, it's the same to me. i'm doing good, i'm on some new shit. there's an ache in you put there by the ache in me. i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn't though. you know the greatest films of all time were never made. you know the greatest loves of all time are over now. so we could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend. i'm stayin' at my parents' house. it would've been fun if you would've been the one. if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow and it's alright now. now i'm missing your smile, hear me out. we could just ride around. the road not taken looks real good now and it always leads to you. if my wishes came true, it would've been you. in my defense, i have none. for never leaving well enough alone. and it's another day waking up alone. i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave. but if it's okay with you, it's okay with me. but we were something, don't you think so? if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? even though i'm leavin' and i'll be yours for the weekend. and it would've been sweet if it could've been me. it always leads to you. it would've been fun if you would've been the one.

[mncxbe]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙚𝙢♡

𝑷𝒐𝒆 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

A soft smile rose to his lips and from this angle, his eyes were a subtle shade of violet.

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff ♡

"To One in Paradise" is one of my favourite poems so I just had to include it here♡

Living in the shadow of the greatest detective can be hard, but what is worse is hiding your crushes from him. Ranpo knew how smitten you were with your common friend, Poe. And he also knew that he shared your feelings, but of course he wouldn't tell you that.

What he would do instead is get the two of you to spend time together. Every time the three of you met up for lunch or a quick snack he would come up with an excuse to leave early. So you were left there with the handsome writer, sitting in awkward silence and exchanging glances. Eventually, duty called and you had to join the others at the Agency.

One day Poe came for a quick cup of coffee at the office, carrying his usual pile of notebooks. Ranpo noticed a new purple notebook in the stack and suspected what it was used for, so as soon as Edgar was out of sight he snatched it, hiding it under his cape.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick, alright?" said the man with a wink before quickly disappearing.

You nodded, taking a sip of your hot coffee.

Soon after Poe returned with two cookies.

"I got these from Yosano" he said in a shaky voice, holding one of the round chocolate chips for you to take.

You leaned in to take a bite, marvelling at how rich the flavor was. For the next few minutes you talked about his most recent works and your plans for the weekend. Your conversation was interrupted by the buzz of the man's phone.

"Yes?" he answered the call, pursing his lips "Alright I'll be there soon."

"I'm afraid I have to go. I'll see you soon!" he spoke after ending the call, an apologetic look on his face.

You waved him goodbye, watching him exit through the office door. As soon as Poe was gone, Ranpo returned.

"Oh I see Edgar left. Too bad, he forgot this" he stated, procuring the purple covered notebook from a pocket.

Your eyes widened in shock.

"Ranpo, did you steal Poe's diary?"

"I wouldn't say steal. I just borrowed it for a while."

You rolled your eyes, handing him the rest of your cookie. The detective ate the biscuit, a smug smile making its way to his lips. He held out the notebook for you.

"I think you should return it to him. Of course, you can read it if you want. I think you'll like what you read there."

"I would never read his works without permission. I'm not that nosy."

Ranpo simply shurgged "Suit yourself"

A few hours later you texted Edgar to let him know that you'll be dropping by tomorrow to give him the notebook. The whole evening you kept rethinking Ranpo's words. What could be written in the mysterious diary? Why did the detective want you to read it that badly? And why were you so eager to find out?

You did your best not to open it but you eventually gave in to the temptation. Making your way to your bed with a cup of steaming tea in a hand and Poe's diary in the other, you tucked yourself in. The sheets felt cold against your skin.

You slowly opened the cover and started reading the first poem.

Thou wast that all to me, love,

For which my soul did pine-

A green isle in the sea, love,

A fountain and a shrine,

All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers,

And all the flowers were mine.

Ah, dream too bright to last!

Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise

But to be overcast!

A voice from out the Future cries,

“On! on!”—but o’er the Past

my spirit hovering lies

Mute, motionless, aghast!

For, alas! alas! with me

The light of Life is o’er!

No more—no more—no more—

(Such language holds the solemn sea

To the sands upon the shore)

Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree,

Or the stricken eagle soar!

And all my days are trances,

And all my nightly dreams

Are where thy grey eye glances,

And where thy footstep gleams—

In what ethereal dances,

By what eternal streams.

~To One in Paradise by Edgar Allan Poe

You smiled as you read the words on paper, written in his neat, elegant handwriting. You knew that Edgar was a good murder mystery writer but you didn't know that he also wrote love poems. You skimmed through the poems, your cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as you read his latest works. They were getting more graphic, sensual.

You completely forgot about the tea on your nightstand, getting lost in the texts. As you waded through the poems you subconsciously started rubbing your thighs together. It was around 12 when you made it to the last poem.

'My lips agape, yearning for her

The divine of Life

...

My eternal soul to her is pledged

My Morning Star

...

Her Fate intertwined with mine

My everything, I'm yours to keep

Oh! Y/N

...

Your eyes shot open as your saw your name in his book. You remained motionless, your eyes scanning the poem again. Eventually you went over all of them again, checking for signs to confirm the idea that formed in your mind. And there they were, clues all over and you couldn't believe that you didn't notice them before. All the poems were about you.

A warm feeling took over your body, suddenly realizing why Ranpo wanted you to read the diary. You still felt like you were intruding Poe's personal life, his feelings. But it was too late for regrets. The deed was done. You put the notebook away, resting your head on the soft pillows. His words danced behind your eyelids and his voice intoxicated your mind until you fell asleep.

The next day you showed up to Poe's place holding the notebook under your arm. You rang the doorbell and a few seconds later a head emerged from behind the cracked door. When he saw you the man slowly opened the door, motioning you to enter.

His hair was more disheveled today; heavy bags newly formed under his eyes.

"Are you alright, Edgar?" you asked softly. "You don't look so good today"

He pulled at his collar, averting his gaze from yours.

"Yes I'm quite alright. I just didn't get much sleep last night"

"What a coincidence, me neither." you stated, taking a step closer to him.

You could notice him tense with each step you took. You handed him the notebook. The look on Poe's face betrayed his anxiety

"Did you read it?" he eventually asked

"Yes I did"

A deep silence fell between us. With each second that passed the feeling of guilt got stronger.

"Look, I know I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry. I promise that what I read won't change anything between us and-"

"Well maybe it should change something" interrupted the man. He quickly closed the distance between us, his hand cautiously snaking around your waist. "I mean, if you want that."

Your cheeks started to burn again; you were painfully aware of the closeness between the two of you. His grey eyes held your gaze for a while but eventually you felt his grip loosen. The sudden wave of confidence that took over him was starting to dissipate.

"I'm sorry if I took this too far..." he stuttered

You swiftly pulled him back in.

"No, Edgar you didn't. I want that too." you responded, a smile spread across your face.

He looked shocked for a while, his lips slightly parting as he exhaled deeply.

"I suppose we could go for a date tonight. If you're free" you added

A soft smile rose to his lips and from this angle, his eyes were a subtle shade of violet. He nodded, peeling your hands from around his waist.

"I'd like that. Shall I meet you at the office when you finish work?"

"Sure. I'll see you there."

Before you left, you planted a peck on his cheek. You waved goodbye, watching his pretty face turn red. An hour later when you entered your office you saw Ranpo seated on your chair. He had his legs on your desk and a lollipop in his mouth.

"Sooo little loverbird. How did it go? Got yourself a date tonight?" he asked with a grin.

You snatched his lollipop and placed it in your mouth, gaining a whine from the detective.

"Your ultra deduction ruins all good news, doesn't it?"

[candiid-caniine]

I wish I was you like, I want to be a denied edgetoy that has no chance to ever ever cum and is below everything and is just a thing, you have the greatest life T-T being able to be used by so many people and never escaping the humiliation of everyone knowing what you are,,, fuck,,, goals

Like it's been a while since I last came and I'm so horny but also everyone around me still sees me as a person, I want to be a nothing just like you 😵‍💫

aww honey 💕 first of all I gotta love the backhanded compliment "I want to be a nothing just like you," like believe me when I say that's hella validating lmao

second of all...I have to say, wanting it is usually a first sign that you're becoming it, in my experience hahaha. let's put it this way: live ur dreams. they may evolve, you may find you want to be a weekend toy at a kink club, or a pet owned by one person or shared, or someone like me with an irl owner and a side blog to slut it up! I was very shy at first and tbh I still am,, I think that tends to just make me more fun to play with, but the point is if you decide to start a blog or pursue your dream in other ways, you are worthy.

yea that's right I get self esteem from this shit! it's not about tearing myself down tho it may look like it. I started from the premise that I was worth the kind of attention I get, that I was worth being played with, and I think that'd the only healthy way to do it. don't start this journey bc you are using it as a way to hurt yourself. the only way you can be good to other ppl, and enforce boundaries so they'll be good to you, is if you start it from a place of love. you're worthy of being called the names that turn you on and egged on to do the things that make you feel good, point blank period, and worthy of discarding the names and actions and people who do not do so.

what I'm saying is, my life feeds me. I'm beyond happy that it fuels others' fantasies and imaginations, but especially with all these newer denial enthusiasts in my ask box, I want to take a time out and say that YOU are number one. it doesn't matter if you like being degraded or humiliated, you do matter, and in a casual kink environment like this where, I'll admit, I've gone through a lot of bad shit with people when we try to go personal and get more close, you HAVE to hold that shit true in your heart. do not do it without adequate safeguards, by which I mean aftercare, boundaries, the block button, and an equal or greater dose of validation and support outside the scene.

I understand this may spoil the mood for anyone scrolling with their hand down their pants - but I'm not sorry; in a scene I've found contains plenty of manipulative, selfish, predatory, and abusive folks, I wanna remind people newer to the scene that safety is key. there are a lot of good people here, but whether or not others will be good to you, you must be good to yourself, because if you can, you will ALWAYS have that! and if you're good to yourself, it's that much easier to tell who's being good to you and who isn't 💕

play safe, babies.

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed after qualifying, japan - april 6, 2024 (transcript under the cut)

Interviewer: "I'll say that you maybe, hopefully look the happiest you've been for a long time with the feeling of the car. How did that feel as the qualifying progressed, and are you happy with P7?" Lewis: "I'm naturally not happy with P7, of course, but there was a couple of moments where we were higher up. I was definitely hoping to potentially get a little bit closer, but it wasn't meant to be. But I'm happy with just the way the weekend's gone so far, in terms of the progress we've made in the setup, and much, much happier to drive the car. We've really made an improvement in just the envelope that we have; however, we had over a second deficit last year, and it is closer, seven-tenths, but we've still got a lot of performance to find." Interviewer: "With the way that the car feels at the minute-I know no one's done any long running data-but the confidence you have in this machine, do you think you can at least go and take the fight to someone tomorrow?" Lewis: "Yeah! I really do hope so. I think it's gonna be really close between us all. I mean, look at qualifying. It's within half a tenth or whatever it is, the top seven or eight I think, it's very, very, very close, so… I hope where I put the car is gonna be good in the race tomorrow, and I think it's gonna be about management and strategy, pit stops, just maximizing everything along the way and hope you can leapfrog some guys up ahead. But I'm excited. I'm definitely more amped. I know we're seventh. It's not the greatest, but we can work from here."

[translucent-at-best]

Scatter-brained...

I can't find the post about the greatest movie deaths to reblog it, but I just want y'all to know that topping my list is Queenie the dog's death in Crooklyn. Also included is Sonny from The Godfather and Samuel L. Jackson's character in Deep Blue Sea.

Life been life-ing like a motherfucker lately. And while some of it is just happening to me through no fault of my own, there is some of it that's also just me dealing with the consequences of my actions. I'm trying to focus on the things I can control, but it's easier said than done.

Death been death-ing like crazy too. From family to friends to friends who are family... This shit don't make no sense.

I'm 33 now. I haven't had a birthday party since I was 9, but I'm planning a birthday brunch for myself next weekend and I'm excited for it. And grateful that I have people to invite and who I know will show up for me. I'm really out here with chosen family. I came out here knowing no one. I might sound like a broken record at this point, but I'll never stop thanking God for that.

Had to kick my roommate's boyfriend out of the apartment a few weeks ago. I'm still shaken up over it. She told me he's not welcome back until I say he is and I told her I don't know if I'll ever be comfortable with that again (read: I absolutely won't be). She says she understands and that that's a consequence he'll just have to live with... but I'm very aware that although she's saying that now, she may not be so understanding on a May 15th or a July 20th or... you get it. I hope I'm wrong, but if she's shown me anything thus far, it's that I can't always believe what she says.

This same boyfriend showed up unannounced at my place last Sunday night to "apologize." We talked through the call box and that was only long enough for me to say (and repeat several times) that I'm not in a place to accept an apology right now. He kept trying to convince me to talk, asking for "a minute of your time" and saying that he's really a good guy.

First off, anyone who calls themselves a "good" person, I'm wary of. I feel like that's the type of thing other people should tell me about you or that I should clearly be able to see for myself through your actions. Secondly, your solution to getting kicked out of some place is to show up to that place unannounced and try to force the person who wanted you out to accept your apology on your time and terms? Fuck all the way out of here. Thirdly, the lack of self awareness it takes to say you understand why what you did (not listening to us when we told you to leave) was wrong, but then to refuse to listen and leave AGAIN as you try to apologize is mind-boggling. Every time I think about it, I end up even more pissed.

I've been closing all my fitness circles nearly every day this month and I'm really proud of me for that. I even went and worked out on my birthday. Who is she?

The economy is a mess, the current job market is big trash, and the non-profit org I work for has fallen on hard times and informed us that there will be layoffs at the end of this school year. I'm applying and have been applying, but finding the energy to keep doing so is draining in a way I don't think I've experienced before.

And, on top of all that, my sleep schedule has been terrible. I thought it was just a side effect of my period this month, but that thing been gone for a minute and I'm still struggling.

April 13th (the day I promised myself I'd get back on a dating app) came and went. I downloaded an app. I created a profile. I consulted friends about which pictures to post and choose... but them fucking prompts? I know I'm supposed to show off my personality, sell myself, etc. I just ain't got the energy right now...

[oh-my-10133]

July 8, 2023 12:14 am

10133,

Do you remember what happened the last time we fought over that guest room? I do. Down to the word, accompanied by every single gesture and your goofy smile, we repeated it. That night will never find itself produced again, however. Though the memories stay fresh in my mind, and oh how terrible it would be to see them fade, that was a much different time. Less than a year between then and now but there exists a contrast akin to that of one between decades. The delightfully cool, misty october morning air we awoke to has been switched with humid and hot july nights, I still have quite the taste for rather "asinine" memes though. My spot in bed, replaced with hers. You've come to realized that I could never provide you with the stablity that you so despreatly seak, in the romantic sense at least, I'll always be here. Sometime between then and now, you changed and I changed too. Like all young adults, we're simply trying to make our way through the fresh world that has been presented to us. Sometimes in the process, more realistically frequently, mistakes are made and I know we've both certainly made our share. I can't blame you though. I could never blame you and that truly is, quite possibly, one of my greatest flaws. Even after a rarther climatic finale, what should have been atleast, headlined by a devestatingly brutal betrayal, by the begining of the new year I'd came back. Rather simply, I'd missed my best friend and I couldn't stand to continue the charades any longer. Charades really had been a game I played so often with you. I'd get so angry with you, and for good reason too, but it always found a way to disapate much too quickly, especially considering what you'd done, and I'd have to continue with the angry front to satisfy what little moral compass I do possess. But then again, I really can't ever blame you.

There were times when I really did want you gone, wiped from the face of the earth with not a trace left. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty and I'm eternally grateful you stayed. And now we've made it to the present day, your final weekend.

In just over forty-eight hours, you'll be gone. Off to bleedin' Kansas (or is it Oklahoma?) with near complete radio silence for the next five months. A period of time in which I'll hold you as close in my heart as I hope you do me in yours. I can't bring myself to cry, at least not yet. The whole ordeal just doesn't feel real. The greatest ajustment will hit the group as a whole. To see someone so ingrained in our lives have to leave is quite a challenging experience. We've know it was coming, yes, but I've always thought it worse to possess the knowledge someone will leave than to have someone leave suddenly. Like a dark seceret that eats away at you until there is nothing left but the bare bones. You should know, I'm certain you do, there is a large collection of people, including many you wouldn't expect, that will miss you terribly. You won't be gone forever, quite thankfully, though that does not exempt me from experiencing a sort of bittersweet sadness. I am endlessly proud of you (the army is a huge thing!), but I'll miss you so terribly, just as I did when we'd get in our little squabbles.

We've really had quite the run together. Through all of the ups and downs and bumps in the road we've come out still friends on the otherside. Though some times may have been rather painful, I wouldn't trade a single experience for the world itself. Every single one has been absolutely instrumental in shaping us each into the wonderfully, slightly delinquent, people we have become today. If only one take away should be found within this letter, it should be that I love you, forever and always, to the moon and back. Don't be a stranger.

Your fellow christmas tree enthusiast,

[redacted]

[zingaplanet]

Tagged by: @kuhcra 🙌❤️

Sign: I'm an aquarius, i never really get these things, come on astrology mutuals tell me smth about myselffff, am i gonna die and become a cat? Am i destined to save the world from a catastrophic alien invasion?

Height: I'm 172cm ish!

Last thing I googled:

Believe it or not, the Reading fest ticket, I'm contemplating whether 100 quid is worth it to get smashed to a pumpkin amidst crowds of thousands to watch the Killers play

Number of followers: hmm i dunno around 400ish? Doesn't matter tho, I love. Every. Single. One. Of. My. Mutuals. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ i also love that all of you come from different fandoms and come here to be chaotic with me or be introduced to some completely random ships lol. My page is a fandom networking platform n i won't have it any other way!

Amount of sleep: oof I'm an old man. I need my 8 hours beauty sleep. Sometimes 9 hours on weekends lol

Lucky #: I've absolutely no idea what this means, tumblr lingo expert help?

Wearing: A knitted sweater, cozy pajama pants and CHRISTMAS SOCKS! I luv my festive socks 🧦🧦🧦

Dream job: Oooohhhhh this is so difficult. Ok there are 2 things to this (leave it to me to overcomplicate stuffs lol)

Within the unachievable realm I've always wanted to be a musician (Hency my profile background!). I kinda almost did, I taught piano for quite some time, and was in a band for a long time. Hey you never know, might get called to headline glastonbury anytime, hang out with Alex Turner backstage and never have to work a day in my life anymore 😉

Frankly I just dream of playing a rock concert with my band at the royal albert hall and crowdsurfing the dead-est, posh-est crowd ever just cause i thought it'd be hilarious to see their faces 🥲 lol

In the slightly more achievable realm within my field right now, my dream job is to work in the UN peacekeeping or other international conflict orgs to help broker peace deals and help resolve some of the conflict stalemates around the world. I've worked with humanitarian charities before but I get really frustrated seeing so many efforts gone to waste cause the bureaucrats on top just couldn't be bothered to sacrifice their political interests for longlasting peacekeeping efforts. Sorry this is such a geeky answer! It's just that I've seen so many unnecessary sufferings and I just really really want to be in a position where I can at least make my mark to do smth good to change the world for better before I die!

Movies/books that summarise me: prob Orwell's 1984 lol, i'll leave it to you to interpret why

Favourite song: Oh this is so difficult! My current fav is by the Belgian artist Stromae, the one he made as a tribute to Cesária Évora, one of the greatest living singers of all time!

My current fav album and something that you DEF DEF DEF should listen to is the new album by the Canadian indie band Peach Pit called From 2 to 3. It has that old school road trip feel good vibes with your friends during a cross-country, it calms the soul and soothes the mind just uuggghh absolute masterpiece! (My fav track is give up baby go!)

Fav instrument: My bass! Especially my fender jazzmaster bass Rory ❤️ it's been my date for 23 years

Aesthetic: Have you seen the riverside of Thames in autumn?

Fav author: I don't read a lot of non-fictions anymore sadly, but I love poetries and literature. Jeanette Winterson is one of the only I feel that can really capture the essence of our souls and unearth emotions as raw as our hearts. Here's her masterpiece from Lighthousekeeping:

Fav animal noise: 🐬🐬🐬🐬🐬

Random: my dear mutuals, I am working on 2 deadass long angsty carraville and fedal fics that might never get finished but I'm committed to see them to the end even if it takes years!

On another note, if somehow our interests overlap again, the last fic I did was on pepmou. It's so sappy, I don't even know how I got through it! But if you're feeling a bit in need of enemies to lovers... ⬇️⬇️

Enjoy the tag my lovelies: @surreality51 @aramblingjay @tam-is-blogging @aliceinqueensland

[kewpiemeayo]

Hi hi~ I see everyone asking for a jealous mark but can I ask for a jealous reader x mark and shes jealous of atom eve or Amber but he reassures her he will only ever love her

Hi hi Mousy! Oooh role reversal, okay! I'll do them in HC format too :) Because I'm not yet familiar with the comics, I'll be writing with Atom Eve since I'm not sure what Amber's role is in current volumes.

CW: Fem!Reader, mentions jealousy, insecure feelings, fluff(?)

Your boyfriend is Mark Grayson, the man you have grown to love over the years, goofy antics, silly jokes and weird knick-knacks—memorabilia—from different missions.

Your boyfriend is Invincible, the man who dons a black spandex suit with blue and yellow accents, fighting bad guys, aliens and other dangerous things the universe had to offer. You had to learn to love this side of Mark because this was his job, something he at times didn't want to do but did because he understood the importance of it all.

With his came his teammates too. Teammates, partners, they were all kind of the same to you, though it didn't make them any less unique and fun to chat with from time to time.

Times being when they would come over for game nights or people you would bump into while they were in their civilian clothes.

Atom Eve was one of your favourite members of the Teen Team back then, being super badass in her pink gear and doing the damn most where she could. Even when she went off on her, she was still achieving so much, and for the longest time, you kind of wished you could be her.

When you finally got to meet her out of costume, she introduced herself as Samantha Wilkins and you almost lost your cool, because it the Atom Eve, however, she glossed over that name and made sure you knew her for who she was. A close friend of Mark's, someone he had gone to high school with.

It was great to have someone like Eve around because you finally got to hear about some of your boyfriend's greatest and silliest moments during missions and even from his teenage days.

Will apparently swore some secrecy to Mark as his best friend so there were things that he remained tight-lipped about.

However, as time went on, Mark grew comfortable in spending more time with Samantha out of the suit because the two of you now knew each other.

Unfortunately, that didn't really soothe your inherent worries about the two of them.

You trusted Mark, you knew he wasn't some reckless teenager, at least not anymore. He was an adult very capable of making his own decisions, setting his own boundaries and being respectful of his relationships with people.

But there was just a tiny part of you that worried.

Perhaps it was out of a lingering sense of insecurity, the innate comparisons you would make between yourself and Samantha. She was Atom Eve, she was out there saving the world, helping the planet, making a difference and she was gorgeous and kind.

As you stared at yourself in the mirror, sometimes you couldn't help but wonder why Mark chose you instead, when he spent so many years fighting alongside Samantha.

The feeling made you a little more bitter over time and Mark didn't notice until one day, he had asked you if it would be okay if he went out to Cuba with Samantha for the weekend to check on a lead for the Guardians.

The implication of it being for work made it harder for you to say no, but your response and agreement for him to go came off kind of blunt and a little too passive-aggressive.

"I don't know why you're asking if it's for work, just go."

Mark couldn't help but furrow his brows at your tone, "I thought you were the one who said we should run our schedules by each other so we don't get confused."

You sighed at the reminder, "You're right, sorry."

When you closed the mirrored cabinet, Mark was watching you with a grim look upon his face, "Is everything okay? You've been kind of distant recently."

"It's fine," you brushed him off, sliding past him in the bathroom doorway to make your way over to the bed. You crawled under the covers and instantly closed your eyes.

If I don't look at Mark, he'll drop the subject.

Except he didn't. Instead, your boyfriend followed you under the cover, coming face to face with you with a soft smile, "I don't think it's nothing. Talk to me, [Y/N]."

You took a deep breath, doing your best to keep your composure, but the moment you opened your eyes, searching for Mark in the midst of the darkness from under the comforter, tears started to well up.

"Why don't you date Samantha or someone like Samantha? Why are you dating a normal law-abiding citizen like myself when you could be with someone who has super cool powers, is super caring and kind to everyone and literally helping the planet?"

Frazzled by your outburst and the cracks in your voice, Mark was quick to scoot in closer to you, pulling you as close as he humanly could without crushing you to offer you some physical comfort.

"What are you talking about? Why would I? I love you for you, even if you're just a normie citizen like my mum or Will."

You sniffled, burying your face into the soft fabric of his shirt, "Because you're part Viltrumite. You have super strength, you can float and fly, you have saved the Earth countless times at the side of those who are just like you, like Atom Eve. She understands your lifestyle, you wouldn't have to worry about her and you wouldn't have to ask her if you could go to Cuba for recon."

Mark stopped responding, if anything he kind of stopped working; Mark.exe error noises.

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, what could he possibly do to make you worry less and to soothe your thoughts without saying the wrong thing.

You finished crying, unapologetically wiping your tear-stained face on Mark's cotton sleep shirt, and giving the snottiest sniffle man-kind has ever heard.

"Babe, you know... Even though I am part Viltrumite, and I have all these inherited abilities from my dad, I don't always feel that way. I know to most, I'm this hybrid sitting in a grey area because most people wouldn't accept me for being human while aliens probably wouldn't accept me as one of them because most beings out there don't even have a good relationship with the Viltrumite side of my bloodline. Samantha, Rex, everyone out there with powers allows me the opportunity to be a hero, someone with superpowers without judging me."

He paused, and for a moment you tensed up. Was this it? Did Mark just realize your question held a real thought-provoking possibility that perhaps he did choose the wrong person?

He looked down at you with a soft smile, "But when I'm with Will, my mum and you of all people, I can be the human side of me I have always been. I was raised human, hell I even had a very generic human childhood, for seventeen years and then suddenly I'm not human anymore and that was a really shitty time for me. I also got my ass kicked in a lot but when I'm with you, that normalcy I was raised with, I can have that. I wouldn't choose you over anyone else, because at the end of the day, you still understand the other part of me."

"But you can have that with Samantha too, she's also very human."

"But she is also not you, and I have made my decisions. I made it a long time ago and I don't ever plan to change that. I love you, [Y/N]."

With another round of tearful apologies, you muttered your I love you, too

Once you had calmed down and Mark had finished cheering you up, the two of you took a moment to talk out the feelings some more. Mark promised to spend a bit more time with you and that he would bring you along to more hangouts with Sam and the team.

When that happened, Mark 100% expected you to be more clingy and he was a-okay with that. He would hold your hand whenever he could, and would always save you a seat next to him at the table or on the couch.

Mark gave his physical affirmations with you when people weren't looking, with a peck to the temple, a small poke or a quick hug.

In return, you did your best to spend more time with Samantha, which helped you build more trust and confidence with both yourself and her as a friend.

Sorry if this wasn't to your expectation or it seemed short. There was some fat dialogue from Mark but it felt necessary.

>> Masterlist

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Tell me a story about the existence of stable, self-similar fractal distributions of quantum numbers that make the distributions asymptotically self-similar for large enough system sizes.

Part One

For the first, and probably only, time in his life, Paul Kirchner felt his heart lift.

In his late twenties, Kirchner was no longer very young, but he was hardly old either. That was a good thing. His parents had always been so very, very good at this. They'd had their issues, sure, but the two of them had always seemed so together in every way: they talked to each other, and they listened to each other, they got along fine without any further words needed. As he walked into the kitchen, he was filled with that sense of togetherness.

He filled a glass with water, stood up to wash the glass, then filled it again and drank some of the water. Then he sat down at the kitchen table and took out his phone from his pocket.

As always, it wasn't the most modern phone in the world, or maybe it was, but the case was a little cracked, and the screen was a few years old, if that, but the thing had been used enough and enough times in the past that it was practically obsolete by now, and he had this phone for so long it felt like his first phone or something.

He scrolled through his old messages, mostly old texts from his girlfriend from a few years ago. It was not the greatest of matches, he had to admit, but he didn't really care much about that anymore. His girlfriend was out of town, staying with her mom in New Orleans, and all they would ever do together was have good times on the weekends. Sometimes he felt like he was a ghost haunting a hotel room with no purpose, and other times he felt like he was being a ghost haunting a hotel room and being happy. It was nice, but it wasn't worth it.

As he stared into the phone, he suddenly felt a rush of anger. It wasn't really directed at his girlfriend, she had had so many of his texts when he was gone, no one but him could know them, no one could have them but him, and when he was alive he didn't read them because he never felt the need for them. She was gone, and she was in a good place and nothing was going to bring her back, and so many of these texts made him feel the same way: like a ghost haunting a hotel room, who wanted something from the hotel room, who would be glad to leave and leave alone, but instead had to keep on haunting.

If his girlfriend was back in the States, he could have started with "where are you" -- just one line, he didn't want to make it too many -- and that way he could have gotten an answer, he could have learned what his friend was up to, he could have kept the relationship alive, he could have known if she was still thinking about him. He wanted to get something from her, if not from her then at least from her friends.

The phone's screen was lit up, glowing with a tiny little text.

1:13 PM

Paul, I've been trying to get in touch with you for a few weeks, are you good?

Yeah I'm good, I just haven't really known what to do with myself, maybe I'll head out to the island soon, I'll give you a call if I'm doing anything specific.

Good, I'm glad. Do you need anything while you're there?

Maybe I could ask you to come over. It's okay, it's just that I think you might have a lot to say to me, even after a little while. You're the only person in this whole world I feel like I could talk with.

That's so sweet, Paul, and I'm happy to hear it. So what are you doing right now?

Well, not much, but I'm writing. I've been writing for a long time and I think I'm finally starting to get a feel for it. I keep having to make my own sentences and all that, it's a little embarrassing, but it's fun, I'm writing a story, a fantasy story about a world that no one has ever heard of or lived in, or at least no one has ever been allowed to come back to.

I feel a little bit bad, sometimes I wonder if that's a strange thing to do -- a strange thing for an old guy to do, maybe even a kind of weird guy, like a little weird, a little bit weird. But I think it's really important, and I hope people will read it. It might be hard to get good people to pay attention, but if I can keep writing stories that resonate with you guys, that'd be nice.

So what's the story about?

It's mostly about a world that's sort of like ours, but it's a bit better for the most part, even in places, in a good way. But people who live there tend to see things as they are, while the people who live in our world mostly try to see things as they are meant to be. And there are a lot of people who are from the world and live in the world, who are the best people there are, who would take care of everyone in the world, who are very good at what they do.

I really hope the story works.

Thanks, Paul, and thank you for being you.

Paul: I will let you know when I write the story.

Paul: Maybe someday I'll write the story and we'll meet again, that'd be nice.

Kirchner looked away, at the wall behind the phone. There was a painting there. That wasn't right. It looked like a painting of his parents. It was a painting of his parents. It was a painting of his father and mother. The father was very big and the mother was very small. They were there to help you. They were there to let themselves be useful to you. They were there, as always, with their love.

Kirchner looked away from the painting and back at the phone. He thought about his girlfriend again. He thought about what he could do for her. He wondered if she had any interest in anything he could say.

He wondered if he should have told her, at least when he was alive, what was happening with his father. What was the purpose of their relationship anyway, if there wasn't even anything to talk about?

He looked at the painting again. This time he didn't look away. It was his parents.

He saw the painting. He looked at his phone, where he had written his name. He read the words, but they didn't sink in. He saw a name, and then a name that was not his own. A name that was his mother's. It was a familiar name, but it was not his mother's. The name was there, and it did not have a face. There was no face. There were other, different, other, other names, and they were his parents, he was his mother and his father, but they had changed, they were now his parents.

The phone buzzed. Paul had texted again. Paul had written:

Hi, Paul.

I am so glad it is you.

Are you busy now?

Yes, Paul. I'm writing.

That was all. His father and mother, his mother and his father, had switched places. It had been the same, all the same people, and the same story, they had done all the same things for him, it had all been the same for him, and it was the same, but now, now there was a different person there for the first time, now there was something new. He saw a face that did not look like his own. He saw a face that did not look like his mother's. It was his father's face, and it was his mother's face, but it was the face of a new person.

It was Paul.

[andiinaraethtash]

Chapter 17: Tell You You’re the Greatest (But Once You Turn They Hate Us)

Notes:

Wow, we are getting so close to the end. I still have a minimum four or five chapters to write, which is gonna be fun cause I just injured one of my hands so I can't type as well as I usually can, but we're almost at the climax in terms of the story posted so far. Hard to believe. I already have my next fic planned, too. Gosh, I need a break. Speaking of, I'm gonna be out of town the weekend of the third of September. So no update then. But I'll try to post the Tuesday before and the Tuesday after. No guarantees, but I will try. Tw: None in particular, really, just mild descriptions of injuries. Like, very, very mild. Chapter title from Enemy by Imagine Dragons.

After about a half-day of rest, Pix is right back to work. He’s not got much to do in the way of repairs—his people have that well in hand, all he has to do is make sure the work has been done—but he does have to update the Vigil. As soon as that's done, he ponders what to do, where to go—then finds that his mind keeps getting drawn toward Rivendell. Something is going to happen there, something important.

So he sends off word to the other empires to let them know firstly where he is going to be in case they need to find him, and secondly that they should join him. Then, he takes off, heading east as fast as he can.

The journey is long, but easy, and before he knows it, the mountains of Rivendell are coming into view. He spots Joey landing as Scott’s lodge comes into view, and knows that his message got to him. That’s good. Hopefully the others will be here, soon, too.

Rivendell somehow looks exactly like it had before, and yet very different. The large snow drifts are gone, melted away, but the village is still and silent, like it had been before. It’s still cold enough that Pix is grateful he’d thought to change into more winter-appropriate clothing, but not as bitterly cold as it had been the day before.

He lands and almost immediately slips, barely catching himself in time to avoid face-planting on the thin layer of ice that covers the ground. He catches Joey smirking at him and sighs. Nevermind that he’s used to the sands of Pixandria and not the ice of Scott’s winter, he’s still going to get teased for being less than graceful.

Not that he really minds. It gives him some sense of normalcy that has been missing for the past several days.

Brushing past Joey, he knocks on the front door, and is surprised a moment later when Sausage opens the door. As far as Pix knew, Sausage was in Mythland, but apparently not. Idly, he wonders what he’s doing here, but Sausage is speaking before he can figure out the reason.

“Oh, hello! If you’re looking for Scott, he’s up at the festival grounds with Jimmy, trying to practise getting his powers under control.”

Pix nods. “We were, actually, but if he’s busy—”

“Oh, I’m sure he won’t mind the distraction. Between you and me, he’s getting a little frustrated, and I’m wondering if he doesn't need a break. I’ll go get him.” Sausage walks out of the door, spots Joey, and does a double take. “Oh, hey, Joey. What are you doing here?”

Joey presses his lips into a firm line. “Pix said something was about to happen here. But if you don’t know what…”

“Something is coming,” Pix assures him, “But, no, neither of us know what. It’s just a feeling.”

“Very helpful. Hey, why don’t your ‘feelings’ ever tell us anything useful?” Joey asks, a sneer rising on his lips, and Pix and Sausage both open their mouths to answer, when they’re interrupted by Scott and Jimmy gliding down from the festival grounds.

“What’s going on here?” Scott asks, and Pix sighs.

“Not sure, but something is coming.”

Distantly, he hears rockets being fired off. Turning to see where they’re coming from, he’s surprised to see someone headed their way from the direction of the Overgrown. It seems Katherine got his message.

When she lands, she immediately looks to Pix. “I got your message. What’s going on?”

Pix sighs, tired of explaining this. “I’ll tell you when the others get here.”

“Is it bad?” She asks, looking nervous, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t know for certain.”

Beside him, Scott huffs. “Well, we might as well go inside to wait for the others. It’s not exactly getting any warmer out here.”

It’s true; as night slowly falls, the temperature drops, and Pix is already shivering ever so slightly. As Scott opens the door for them, Pix glances around one last time before ducking inside. The others would get here when they got here.

They sit around, chatting idly, for about an hour as the others slowly trickle in. They’re just missing Shrub when Pix hears a knock on the door, and Scott rises and opens it, only to stumble back, hand on his sword, because it’s not Shrub in the doorway. 

It’s Pearl.

Immediately the rest of the rulers are on their feet, weapons in hand, except for Pix and Sausage. Something stays his hand, and he is pretty sure he can guess why Sausage is hesitating to point a weapon at his last remaining friend.

Pearl looks worse for wear. She’s favouring one side, has soot and dried blood all over her, and she’s carrying something vaguely human-shaped, bundled in a purple blanket that looks like she stole it from the Crystal Cliffs. She’s shivering, and the look on her face… she’s terrified.

“Didn’t know where else to go,” she breathes, and Scott recovers enough to snarl.

“Well, if you thought you’d be welcome here, you’re wrong. Traitor.”

Pearl swallows heavily, shifting the burden in her arms, and Pix gets the feeling there’s something going on that he doesn’t understand—that none of them do. “Please. I’ll beg on my knees if I have to, but we need help.”

This time, it’s Joey who scoffs. “You lost your right to our aid when you sided with Xornoth.”

For a moment, Pearl looks like she’s about to snap at him with something about who sided with Xornoth last time, but she calms herself and turns to Sausage. “Sausage… You know I would never betray you. You know me.”

Sausage clenches his jaw so hard Pix can see the muscle in his temple jump out. “Do I?” He asks softly, and Pearl looks close to tears.

“I didn’t want to do what I did, I didn’t have a choice!”

“There’s always a choice,” Jimmy says, but Pix has a sinking feeling in his stomach. Of course her behaviour, her betrayal made no sense, it wasn’t like her because it wasn’t her idea. Someone else had made the choices for her.

Before he can say anything, though, Scott is talking, and he has to bite his tongue to keep from cutting the elf off. “If you didn’t want to do what you did, then why did you do it? Why, Pearl? We trusted you, we loved you, and you stabbed us in the back!”

“It was just a bunch of lies, I didn’t mean for any of it to happen—”

“Yeah, well, it happened, and now those lies have a body count.” Scott shoots back, and Pix finally steps forward, because this has gone on long enough.

He puts every ounce of authority he has into his voice. “All of you stand down, she’s not going to hurt us.”

Joey huffs. “What, like she did with the end crystals? That one you managed to get off hurt me, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Pearl says as the pieces finally click in Pix’s head, and he turns to Sausage, who seems to have come to the same conclusion as him.

“Oh, gods,” Sausage breathes, and Pearl turns to him, looking hopeful, but Joel is talking, and Pix knows he won’t be able to get a word in edgewise.

“Sorry, are you? You tried to blow up the two kingdoms you were closest to, and you’re sorry? That’s all you have to say? Unbelievable.”

Pearl opens her mouth to answer, but someone else beats her to it.

“It wasn’t Pearl who planted them, Joel.”

The voice is a faint whisper, but it echoes like a firework through the room, because they all recognize it, and none of them can believe their ears.

Jimmy breathes, “Gem?” and Pearl nods.

“Exor had her. Now can we please come in? She’s not getting any warmer.”

_______

Katherine is the first to move. Even she is surprised when she does, but it’s instinctive to usher Pearl inside, and have her set Gem down in a chair. Pearl hovers nearby as Katherine checks her over, with Sausage right next to her, staring at Gem like he’s expecting her to disappear at any moment.

Gem is pale and her hair is nearly white, like the ice Katherine can sense in her heart is leeching out into every part of her. She’s not even shivering anymore, she’s just still and cold, and only the fact that Katherine can feel her chest rising and falling under her hands is reassuring her that she’s still alive.

She seems to have used up all her remaining strength to tell Joel off, and somehow that makes Katherine want to smile, though she restrains herself. Now is not the time for jollity.

At any rate, her eyes are closed, and she’s not responding to any of Katherine’s attempts to rouse her. There’s a long silence as she diagnoses the problems, which, surprisingly, is actually only one problem, and it’s the one that killed her in the first place: the ice lodged in her heart.

Finally, Scott breaks the quiet. “Is she going to make it?”

Katherine glances up, and isn’t really surprised to see that he looks incredibly guilty, shuffling backwards like he’s trying to put space between him and her in case he accidentally hurts her again.

Katherine sighs. “It’ll be touch and go. I need someone to go to the Overgrown and grab whatever supplies they can from the apothecary. We’ll need them to cure her. Scott, where are your potion stores?”

As Lizzie and Joel leave, going as fast as they can, Jimmy answers for Scott. “There, in that cabinet.”

Sausage turns abruptly, flings open the cabinet Jimmy’s pointing to, and starts pulling out every supply he can find, dumping them on the table. “What all do you need?” His voice is uncharacteristically solemn, and he’s still obviously in shock.

Katherine turns away from Gem for a minute to point out the ingredients for potions of regeneration and health. “Those will tide her over until Lizzie and Joel get back. In the meantime, we need to keep her warm.”

As Pix goes upstairs, undoubtedly looking for more blankets, and Jimmy moves to stoke the fire, Joey finally pipes up. “Well, while we’re waiting, why don’t you tell us exactly what you were thinking, Pearl.”

Katherine shakes her head, cutting off Pearl before she can even open her mouth to answer. “We should wait until everyone else gets here, they’ll want to know too.”

Joey humphs but acquiesces, and as Pix comes back down, arms full of woollen blankets, Sausage, who has set the potions to brew, turns to Pearl, wrapping her up in a big hug that hides his face in her shoulder.

“I knew you didn’t betray us, I knew it.”

Pearl, who’d stiffened when he’d first put his arms around her, relaxes into his hold. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m sorry I put you through that. You’ve lost so much already, and I made you think—”

“It’s okay,” Sausage whispers, so softly Katherine can only guess what he says after that. Not that she needs to know, either; this is something precious and quiet and not something to be shared.

There’s another long silence, before Pearl draws away from Sausage and lets out a long breath. “I think I need to sit.”

immediately, Katherine turns, eyeing her up and down to see if and where she’s injured, and immediately notes the bloodstains trailing down from a nasty-looking gash on her side, and the stump of an arrow poking out of her shoulder. Yeah, she’s been through the ringer, and Katherine gestures to the seat Joel had just vacated.

“Sit. As soon as the potions are ready, I’ll look over you. Until then, Sausage, can you help her clean up?”

Sausage nods, grabs some rags from near the wash basin in Scott’s kitchen, and dunks them in water. As he hands one to Pearl and starts wiping away the soot and blood on her face, Katherine turns back to Gem, whose eyes have opened to mere slits, but at least they’re open.

“Gem?” She asks softly, and immediately the wind outside, which had been starting to gust ever so slightly, picks up and starts howling. Shooting a glare at Scott and hoping desperately that Jimmy will notice and get him to calm down, she rubs her hands up and down Gem’s arms, trying to soothe her.

Pix comes and drapes another blanket over her shoulders, then lays another in her lap. “Easy, Gem,” he says softly. “It’s okay, you’re safe. You can rest.”

If anything, Gem manages to open her eyes a bit more, as if purposely ignoring what Pix is saying. “Wha…?” she murmurs, and Katherine is shoved out of the way so Sausage can kneel in front of her, grasping her hands and looking nearly teary with relief.

“Gem? It’s me. It’s Sausage. Can you hear me?”

For a second, Gem just stares at him, then manages a quiet, “Mm-hm.”

Sausage beams and wraps her in a hug as best he can. “Oh my gods, I am so sorry, we thought you were dead—how are you alive? You know what, that’s not important. You’re going to be fine. Katherine will fix you right up—”

The potions in Scott’s brewing stand choose that moment to start bubbling, and Katherine nudges Sausage to the side. “Here, Gem, drink this, it’ll tide you over until Joel and Lizzie get back.”

immediately Gem pulls away. Her movements are sluggish, but the fear in her eyes is sudden, real, and very, very visceral. Katherine and Sausage have to lunge to keep her in her seat, because she’s about to become well acquainted with the floor if she’s not careful.

But she’s staring at the regen potion in Katherine’s hand like it’s poison, and Katherine has a brief moment to wonder why before Pearl is nudging her aside, and cradling Gem’s face with both hands so she can look her in the eyes.

“It’s just us, Gem. We’d never hurt you. It’s not the potion Exor gave you, it’ll be fine. We won’t let anything happen to you, you know that.”

Gem stares at her for a long moment. Katherine holds her breath, but finally, slowly, Gem nods, and she’s able to help her down the potion. She shudders and gags, but she drinks it all, and almost immediately sighs, blinks, and perks up.

“Katherine?” She asks, and Katherine beams.

“Hi, Gem.”

As Gem’s eyes shift focus to Sausage—and Pearl behind him—Katherine sits back. Her emotions are a complex knot in her chest, and while she knows Shrub would advise her to work through them, she doesn’t have the time—

Wait. Shrub. It’s been nearly an hour since the rest of them had shown up, and no sign of her. Immediately, she stands, gives Gem’s shoulder one last squeeze, and goes over to Pix and Jimmy.

“Shrub’s still not here,” she says softly, and Pix immediately frowns.

Jimmy, too, furrows his brow. “That can’t be good. If she’s in trouble…”

Katherine nods. “I can’t leave Gem—Joel and Lizzie should be back soon with the stuff I need to cure her—but if you guys could go check on her… I’d really appreciate it.”

Pix looks over at Jimmy, who nods, then turns back to Katherine. “We’ll be back shortly, hopefully with good news.”

With that, they disappear out the door and into the night outside.

[tsuki-sennin]

Ei! Ei! Oh! A transcendent victory! The big 3-0! The greatest milestone thus far, with non-stop bangers since Episode 1! Avataro Sentai! Donbrothers! Our festival is yet to reach its climax! Everybody jump! Everybody dance and sing together!

Spoilers, I guess continues this Saturday! Yeah, I mean this one!

-Donbros Fantasia!

-Toradora Onitaijin!

-Oh shit, Auntie Yuriko has been kidnapped!

-...you remember her, right?

-Those darn Anoni!

-Obviously they're trying to save her from Chef Haruka's Beef Stroganoff.

-The Anoni finally exist! As like, characters!

-Gotta hunt the Juto.

-HOLY SHIT TARO BHJKL:LHK

-I guess the Anoni do hate being eaten. I mean, I would too.

-Imagine literally the only family you have being Auntie Yuriko.

-...now I'm curious, what might've happened to Haruka's parents? Or rather, how little connection do the team have to regular society outside of each other and their civilian workplaces?

-"I have a wife!"

-oh

-Oh, we're finally letting that house of cards collapse, huh?

-Guess he's a real gentleman.

-Kijino Miho.

-Ah, yep! Hanamura!

-Knew that guy was trouble.

-Sorry Tsuyoshi, but we've gotta hunt 'em all down.

-Sassing and making small talk with her own kidnappers? Like aunt, like niece, I suppose.

-That's a pretty fancy spread they've got.

-.

-YURIKO

-Y'know, I can respect the honesty.

-But like

-Yeah, your shitheel ex-boyfriend's mom is a furry.

-Oni hidden in the leaves.

-Sneak 100.

-OH NO

-Yep, that dude is gonna die an absolutely horrendous death.

-At the zone.

-OH MY GOD THAT BITCH JUST TORE INTO IT

-Didn't even pay for it!

-"Oh, don't mind me, just a little oni lady doing her weekend shopping~!"

-Ohhhh, here it comes, my one weakness! Extremely awkward public confrontations about infidelity!

-Help, I'm gonna die!

-Stop crying, you overgrown flamingo chick! She was talking to this dude for like five minutes!

-...still love you though.

-Sayama appears!

-Everybody's here!

-Hanamura's mom sent him to a farm upstate.

-Whole-ass sukiyaki plate.

-Meatless sukiyaki!

-Gotta let the dog out?

-Harucrawl.

-oh

-Tsuyoshi

-Sayama was just chomping the whole time, huh?

-Find Murasame.

"Your food, sir."

"GIMME"

-Shinichi's look of terror is honestly justified.

-YOU pay!

-Man, stiff 'em like that.

-And Kaito just accepts it.

-God, man.

-Spice Spice Spice

-Oh.

-Oh, Tsubasa you charmer.

-Dog Man meets Condor Woman.

-"So like... you wanna be friends? Kinda?"

-So the Anoni went to the Donbrothers as messengers, while Sononi chose to ask Tsubasa perfectly.

-Oh shit, we're all going to the townhouse.

-"Get spiced, idiot!"

-Oh shit, Miho's here.

-From the Don Clan.

-"Don't hurt the cats. I'll deal with it."

-Alright, that lines up with what Sonoi told us.

-I mean, you guys are kinda just going off of your instincts, but the Juto possessing Sayama's boy has been trying to murder Tsubasa this whole time, so...

-Oh, copy!

-Oh, so... Don Murasame's meant for killing, huh?

-Penguin?

-Oh shit, penguin.

-CRAAAAANE

-That's it, grab your aunt.

-"Murasame, it's shark time!"

-"The plan's over. No more beast hunting!"

-Oh, Jirou's taking care of the Spice Guy.

-Donbrothers really is a lot, huh?

-Good job, Jirou!

-Spice man's really gone up the Scoville!

-Transcendent wind!

-Ohhhhhhhh

-They know.

-Inu Brother focus episode.

-The dog unmasked.

-The confrontation we've all been dreading is near.

-And I'll be on the edge of my seat the whole time.

[swiftricochet2]

Taylor swift lyrics that remind me of kitty

Pt. 5

The 1 -

“I'm doing good, I'm on some new shit

Been saying "yes" instead of "no"

I thought I saw you at the bus stop, I didn't though”

“But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

In my defense, I have none

For never leaving well enough alone

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one”

“You know the greatest loves of all time are over now”

“I persist and resist the temptation to ask you

If one thing had been different

Would everything be different today?”

“We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family

And it would've been sweet

If it could've been me”

Cardigan -

“But I knew you

Playing hide-and-seek and

Giving me your weekends, I

I knew you

Your heartbeat on the High Line

Once in 20 lifetimes,”

“'Cause I knew you

Steppin' on the last train

Marked me like a bloodstain, I

I knew you

Tried to change the ending

Peter losing Wendy, I

I knew you

Leavin' like a father

Running like water, I

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing”

“But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time”

Exile -

“And it took you five whole minutes

To pack us up and leave me with it

Holdin' all this love out here in the hall”

“I think I've seen this film before

And I didn't like the ending

You're not my homeland anymore

So what am I defending now?

You were my town

Now I'm in exile, seein' you out”

“So step right out, there is no amount

Of crying I can do for you

All this time

We always walked a very thin line

You didn't even hear me out (You didn't even hear me out)

You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)”

My tears ricochet -

“I didn't have it in myself to go with grace”

“And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet”

“You know I didn't want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene”

“And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)”

August -

“But I can see us lost in the memory

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine”

“Your back beneath the sun

Wishin' I could write my name on it

Will you call when you're back at school?

I remember thinkin' I had you”

“Back when we were still changin' for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

To live for the hope of it all”

Illicit affairs -

“Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colors

You know I can't see with anyone else”

“Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

You taught me a secret language

I can't speak with anyone else”

Peace-

“Our coming-of-age has come and gone

Suddenly the summer, it's clear

I never had the courage of my convictions”

“But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?”

“Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother”

Hoax-

“Your faithless love's the only hoax

I believe in

Don't want no other shade of blue

But you

No other sadness in the world would do”

“You knew it still hurts underneath my scars

From when they pulled me apart

But what you did was just as dark

Darling, this was just as hard

As when they pulled me apart”

[fal-carrington]

Stuck with the mother-in-law

Pairing: Kamilah x Mc

Disclaimer: Characters belongs to PB

Tag list: @kamilahtopme @gavryllo @made-me-deep-blue @sapphics-choices @nighthuntresskatherine @cheeto-choices @beccaislove @whoinvitedalx @thepotatobleh @toyhenoctus @shanuuh @wildsayeed @voltos9 @iam-the-fuckin-queen @ilovekamilahsayeed @soundtrackforlife @thecleveridiot09 @otakufangirl-12 @scarlet-letter-a0114 @justejuste727 @deereboy97 @h-doodles @slytherinthoughts7

Prompt: Kamilah thought she had gone through more approvals than any other living being, with 2000+ years old, she thought she had seen it all, but when Mia's mother decide to pay a visit and stay for a few days in New York, Kamilah has to deal with her mother-in-law... Who happens to be a bloodkeeper and don’t like her at all.

The wooden floor was cold against her skin, but she didn't care, she had promised herself that she wouldn't leave, no matter how cold and hard the floor was. The little girl could hear clearly the low cry of her mother coming from behind the door, she had already been there for two days, two days without leaving the room. Two days without Mia being able to see her mother.

At this point she should have been used to, the "bad days" were becoming frequent that month. "Bad days" was what Mia's father used to call the days when Mia's mother became reclusive, cold, and extremely prone to explosive surges. Mia always thought that this was a very strong headache, but she hoped that her mother would heal soon. She missed her mother more than anything else in the world.

Mia never understood how a person could be so kind and loving at one moment, but explosive and cold at another.The little girl lay on her stomach against the floor, spying under the door where a dim light came from her mother's room.

"Mommy?" Mia called her.

No answer.

"Mommy, it's me. Please open the door." Mia asked, without answer again.

The little girl stretched her little fingers to the box of tissues she was carrying and took two, stretching them under the door.

"Please, Mommy don't cry." A little smile came over her face as the tissues were pulled. She sat down and leaned her back against the door, holding a portrait in one hand.

In the portrait lay a photograph, Mia wiped the tears that fell from her green eyes, looking at the photograph of her parents with her. The latin features and the seriousness in the severe brown eyes and black hair highlighted the beautiful young face of her mother. Hugged by her father, a beautiful young blond man with green eyes hidden behind his thick glasses. Together, both were holding a little girl.

"Mia?" Her father's thick voice called out to her, making her look up.

"Hi, Daddy." Mia said wiping her eyes, her father looked briefly at the door and a glance of recognition appeared on his face. Mia looked at her father, knowing full well from his clothes that he had just come from his work. The loose tie on his tweed suit, the tired eyes behind his glasses, and the leather bag strap on his shoulder.

"Is Mama on a bad day?" her father asked, Mia shook her head in affirmation.

"Daddy, do you think that... Mommy's sad because of me?" Mia hesitated to ask.

"What? Why?"

"Maybe because I didn't do very well on my math exam, I know she was expecting a lot from me." A tear ran down her little face, her father sighed tired, getting down on his knees in front of his daughter.

"Isabella Amelia Cortéz Evans" He touched her face looking deep into her inherited eyes. "Your mother is not like that because of you, you could never disappoint her, you are our greatest pride. Your mother... " He took a break before he went on. "She's just going through a bad phase, that's all, but I'm sure it will soon pass."

"... In the meantime, why don't you and I go in the kitchen and get dinner ready? How about we make lasagna and then watch cartoons on TV, okay?" He messed up her blonde hair with a smile on his face, making a dimpled smile appear on his daughter's face.

"Right!" Mia took her father's hand and followed him down the stairs. "Can I call Rebecca and Alex to join us for dinner?"

"How about just the two of us tonight? I'm sure you can call your cousins for the weekend."

"Okay."

...

Mia looked over at her side as she listened to her father's snoring, who was immersed in a deep sleep, he fell asleep after dinner on the couch next to her while watching cartoons on TV. Mia got up and took a blanket and covered her father, gently removing his glasses and leaving them on the coffee table.

An idea popped into her mind, her mother even though she didn't attend dinner tonight, maybe she was still hungry. Mia went to the kitchen and heated up the rest of the lasagna in the microwave and took it upstairs on a tray.

What the little girl didn't expect was her mother's bedroom door to be open.

"Mommy?" She called, opening the door a little wider so she could see her mother clearly.

And there she was, her black hair caught in a loose coke, wearing only a sweater and sweatpants, with her back to Mia, sitting on the bed.

"Mama, I brought your dinner. Daddy and I made lasagna." Mia approached with caution.

"Thank you, sweetie." Her mother answered with a weak smile, Mia left the tray on the bed and approached hesitantly watching her mother's red eyes and pale face.

"Don't cry." Mia lifted the sleeve of her blouse and wiped her mother's eyes, receiving a weak laugh.

"I'll be all right, darling." Her mother touched her face. "Mommy's just..." Suddenly her mother stood still, eyes glazed and distant.

"Mommy?" Mia touched her mother, not expecting a wave that invaded her body, images and faces of people appearing in her mind. A man with blue eyes, long hair and a cruel expression on his face, a woman accompanied him, with black hair, tanned skin and brown eyes, people screaming and running and blood everywhere. "Who... Who are these people?" Mia asked scared.

What she didn't expect was a strong push from her mother who knocked her down.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Her mother screamed angry, an expression of terror and anger on her face.

"Mama?" Mia called her tears in her eyes, being greeted by a look of hatred, being ignored by her mother who locked herself in the bathroom. “MAMA!”

Sweat dripped from her forehead, with her breathing panting and her heart racing, Mia sat on the bed. The girl sighed, passing her hand across her face.

"It was just a nightmare..." She said to herself, trying to calm down. “...Or a really fucked-up memory." She was used to her frequent nightmares — which usually involved Gaius, Rheya, Lily's death, or some of her many traumas. They were frequent and agonizing, but she was already used to them. Now seeing her parents... She didn’t know which one of them, was the worse.

The girl looked to her side, finding Kamilah, who was lying on the left side of the bed, her tanned chest descending and ascending, immersed in a light sleep. The silk sheet partially covered her naked body, memories of last night wrapped Mia's mind, and a smile came over her face as she silently observed the features of Kamilah's gorgeous, calm and serene face.

She still had no idea how she had managed to marry Kamilah, but the thought that after 2000 years she was the only one who had managed to put a ring on Kamilah's finger made her chest fill with pride.

The thoughts involving her wife were interrupted by the memory of her nightmare involving her mother. The girl sighed and looked at her watch, there were still 4 hours left for her to go to work, and she was sure she wouldn't be able to get any more sleep.

Mia got out of bed carefully so as not to wake Kamilah, and went to the bathroom. Under the hot water shower, the girl leaned her face against the marble wall, letting the warm water fall under her face.

"It was just a memory, that's all." She said to herself.

...

Raines Corporation, 19:30pm

Sitting in her leather armchair in her Raines Corporation office, Mia leaned back while talking to one of her newest clients.

"...You have to admit that the potential of this contract to benefit both us is extremely high..." She supported the phone on her shoulder as she spoke. "Danny, at the end of the day you and I are the same, we think and see the profit this will bring us.”

“...Exactly, we can run this country. Japan? Who cares about Japan? You and I will close this deal together and be partners." With her attention focused on the origami swan that she patiently made in her desk, she noticed her assistants entering her office silently.

"...Really? I am so happy that you and your investors liked the whiskies and cigars I sent. Seriously, it was from the heart." She laughed. "Sure, I'll see if I can convince Kamilah, for us to go spend the holiday in Hamptons.”

She gestured for the assistants to leave the contracts on her desk.

"Danny, you're the man. I knew you'd understand, I'll see you and your investors on Wednesday, with a celebration." She smiled victoriously when she saw that she had managed to close another deal. "Okay, I'll tell Kamilah you sent her a hug, tell your wife and kids, I sent a hug too.”

When she turned it off, she raised her eyes to her assistants.

"Guess who closed another deal?" She pointed to herself. “That's right, me. Booom, it's Britney bitch" She gestured by pretending to knock over a microphone.

"Um, by the way, we have something else." Natalie mentioned it.

“Yeah? What?" Mia turned her attention to her origami swan.

"Your mother called. She asked you to return the call." Tyler told her while collecting some papers, making Mia stop at the same moment.

"My mother? What does she want?"

"She didn't say, she just asked you to call back," Natalie told her.

At the same moment her heart began to beat fast. Was her dream a warning she chose to ignore? If she'd mentioned it to Kamilah, maybe she'd say yes.

"All right. You two can go." Mia said and picked up the phone, sighing patiently before calling her.

The phone rang a few times before her mother answered.

"Hello, hija," Her mother said at the other end of the line. “It’s has been so long.”

"Hey, mom." Mia said sheepishly.

...

"You are so quiet today," Kamilah commented in a low tone, as if making a mere observation.

Of course she had noticed, she always notices all things, Kamilah would not let go of a behavior that differed from her usual behavior, but as always, patient, Kamilah waited for her to pronounce herself.

"Huh?" Mia looked at her.

"Distant and distracted too." Kamilah completed her observation.

"It's nothing." Mia lied looking at her plate. "Didn't you enjoy your dinner?" She asked.

"I'm not the one not eating." Kamilah told her, drinking a sip of her glass of wine. "And you know I like it when you make puttanesca paste."

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Kamilah asked, as if she was stretching out a hand so she could pick it up.

"I had a bad dream yesterday." Mia started talking. "It was a memory, like I was reliving this childhood memory, you know?"

Kamilah nodded, silently. Her brown eyes warm and understanding.

"I couldn't sleep afterwards. I didn't want to wake you so I came to the kitchen and arrived early at work. My day was going so well today, I kicked ass at meetings, closed two deals today, and even made Aiko lose a contract. I was so happy, and then my mom called."

At the same moment Kamilah's expression changed, she was watching her cautiously now.

"And what did she want?"

Mia bit her lower lip, looking at Kamilah with fear, her brown eyes looked for an answer that Mia feared to give her.

"Mia?"

"She called to say she's coming to New York. She wants to stay a few days... A few weeks with us." She waited, she waited for an answer from Kamilah, when she looked at her, she saw the expression on Kamilah's face, the same one she saw in old memories that made thousands run for their lives.

"Your mother... wants to stay with us." Kamilah said it like she was trying to absorb the information. "She automatically invited herself to stay here?"

"Yes."

"I think I've lost my appetite"

"Babe..."

"Why? I don't understand."

"She said she wants to spend some time together. She wants to get closer and improve our relationship." Mia told her, taking a sarcastic laugh from Kamilah.

"She's up to something." Kamilah said more to herself than to Mia.

"Babe..."

"I don't understand why she decided at the last minute to come here and stay in our house." Kamilah dropped her napkin on the table. "You invited her?"

"No!"

Kamilah sighed, Mia touched her hand over the table.

"Mia, your mother hates me." Kamilah told her.

"What? She doesn't hate you!"

"She specifically told me that she was against our marriage, that I wasn't good enough for you, and that we wouldn't last. Aside from all the comments she made during, before and after the ceremony to make you quit."

"Alright, I agree, but my dad loves you, he's crazy about you. And he supports our relationship, as does my whole big family."

"Except your mother."

"My mother doesn't like anyone. It's not personal."

"I guess in that case it is. Your mother's a Bloodkeeper, she's seen all my past and knows all the terrible things I've done, I never expected her to approve of our relationship, but I also didn't imagine she'd make my life hell. She criticizes me at every possible moment, and I can't kill her because she's my mother-in-law.

"She made my life hell too, but now she seems to want to fix things, maybe it's different. Babe, I did not want that either, but please, just this once, if she does something, I will send her away. But make an exception for me." Mia looked into her eyes, looking for a breach.

Kamilah sighed, thoughtful.

"Alright, for you." She knew perfectly well that there was nothing she didn't agree with when it came to Mia, she could deny it and roll her eyes and say it was stupid and kill anyone who told her, but she knew that if Mia asked her to stop a moving train, she would. And even if she had to accept the devil woman itself in her house, she would accept to please her wife.

[andorerso]

Oh boy, there's so many good ones in that prompt list! I'll limit myself to three: #1 with Jyn and Cassian (trying to) have a lazy weekend; #28 and then Jyn proceeds to beat the crap out of her captor herself; or #127.

Hey! I went with #28 “Take one more step and I snap her pretty little neck.” Prepare for some angst :)

Cassian steps into the seedy motel room cautiously, his eyes trained on the man holding a blaster to Jyn’s face. He’s a human in his forties, his hair short and spiky, his clothes worn and tattered. There’s something unsavory in his eyes that would have set Cassian on edge even if he wasn’t holding his partner hostage. This is not a man to play around with, Cassian decides, because he will shoot.

“There you are,” the man says, his voice delighted as if they were old friends meeting again. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

This is about him, then. A bounty hunter? Someone out for revenge?

Cassian’s eyes sweep the room, looking for opportunities, but he doesn’t make any hasty movements, much too aware of the blaster pressed against Jyn’s temple. Stay calm, stay collected, stay professional. He’s always been good at compartmentalizing, and now all he focuses on is the stranger watching him with a greedy grin. There’s a syringe on the table but Cassian ignores that for now. Could they escape through the window?

“Drop your weapons,” the man tells him, and Cassian obeys, slowly putting down his blaster and removing two vibroblades from his breast pocket and his pants. He kicks them in the man’s direction.

“All of them,” the man says, and Cassian gets rid of another two blades from his boots.

“That’s all of them,” he speaks at last, even though he does have one more vibro-shiv tucked inside his right sleeve.

“Good. Now stand up. Careful. Take one more step and I snap her pretty little neck.”

Cassian keeps himself from grimacing, unwilling to give this man an ounce of leverage. It was only a small step forward, disguised as him straightening up, but the man is clearly not a rookie who wouldn’t pick up on it. He had to be careful here.

“Let her go,” Cassian says, his voice even. It’s a long shot but he has to try.

Jyn hasn’t said a thing yet and he tries not to look at her face. He thinks if he did look, she’d be more pissed than scared. Of course she would be, his fearless Jyn. But he couldn’t look at her – he had to be in control.

“Yeah, sure. As soon as I have you.” A nasty grin lights up his face; Cassian could see his yellowing teeth. “You’re gonna make me rich, rebel scum.”

A bounty hunter then. It isn’t Cassian’s first time dealing with one – but it’s the first time they try to use someone else against him. It’s the first time he cares about anyone enough that it might work.

“There’s a syringe on the table, it’ll knock you out for a few hours,” the man tells him, nodding with his head. “Go and inject yourself with it. No sudden movements,” he emphasizes, pressing the blaster harder against Jyn’s temple. His eyes catch hers for a second, – she looks murderous – and then he’s looking away.

He hesitates. Even if he does what the guy wants, there’s no guarantee he’d keep Jyn alive afterward. In fact, the chances of him not wanting to risk Jyn coming after them – and she would, Cassian knows this as he knows his own name – are rather high. He’s going to shoot her anyway.

He has to get her out of this somehow.

“Let her go first, and I swear I’ll go willingly.”

“Cassian,” Jyn speaks up for the first time, her voice a warning and a plea at the same time. She’s begging him not to do it, but he can’t risk her life.

“Do you think I’m dumb?” the guy asks, and unfortunately no, Cassian doesn’t. It would be easier if he was.

“Do you think I am? You’ll kill her as soon as I’m unconscious.”

“Just fucking do it or I blow out her brains now,” the man growls, his grip on Jyn’s arm tightening. Cassian wants to tear his arm off for even daring to touch her, but instead, he clenches his jaw and steps towards the table.

He eyes the syringe. Injecting yourself with an unknown substance is the most idiotic mistake he could think of. No sane person would even consider it. But the alternative is Jyn dying and that… is not acceptable.

“Cassian, don’t,” Jyn begs him again, her voice holding a hint of desperation now, and he’s sorry, so fucking sorry, but he presses the needle to his arm and pushes it into his vein anyway.

It could be poison, he muses, but he doubts it. An intelligence officer is useless dead. They’d want to question him first. It’s most likely just a sedative that’ll knock him out for a few hours while the bounty hunter hands him over to the authorities.

Briefly, he thinks about the small pill hidden in his breast pocket. Not yet. He isn’t ready to give up yet, not with Jyn watching.

As soon as the syringe is empty, Cassian feels his limbs becoming heavier. Jyn. Force. I’m so sorry. He stumbles a bit, grabbing the edge of the table for support before falling to his knees. His eyes find Jyn’s at last, and she’s watching him in fear, her face filled with sorrow. Please let her go.

“Jyn,” he gasps, voice weak, and it seems to trigger her anger as she turns her head towards her captor, hissing in his face.

“I’ll find you, you hear me? I won’t stop until I find you no matter what you do, no matter where you go – you won’t have a moment of peace! I’ll hunt you down!”

Stop it, he thinks, his brain fuzzy and his vision blurring. Don’t make him kill you.

He can see the man’s eyes clouding with anger, his grip loosening on her arm as he takes a step closer and waves the blaster in her face, and that’s all it takes.

Jyn takes a wild chance by slamming her elbow into his stomach, but it works – he doubles over and she catches his blaster. Her fingers are on the trigger in a millisecond, and she aims for the head. The man falls to the floor with a thud, and Cassian can see blood splatter on Jyn’s face through his blurry vision.

She runs to him without stopping to wipe it off, gathering him up in her arms. He thinks he’s going to pass out soon but he gathers up enough energy to breathe out her name as she checks his pulse and strokes his hair.

“We have to go. There could be others,” she murmurs to him, voice gentle and still so terrified.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, then everything goes black.

Cassian wakes up lying on his cot in hyperspace, long gone from that cursed planet they left behind. He doesn’t question how Jyn managed to get him back to the ship by herself; she was nothing if not determined and resourceful. She would have carried him back herself is she had to.

Cassian stands up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. Whatever was in his system, it leaves him still weak in the legs, his head pounding like a hammer. The mission is a bust – it might have been from the start if his informant is the one who sold him out to that bounty hunter – but he strangely doesn’t care about that right now. There’ll be time to care later when they’re back on base. Now he just wants to find Jyn.

On unsteady legs, he makes his way to the cockpit where Jyn is sitting, idly watching the stars outside. She’s not the greatest pilot in the world but he taught her just enough to be able to get herself back to base, if he was ever not with her or otherwise incapacitated. With their luck, he knew it would come in handy someday, and now it has.

She turns to look at him when she hears his footsteps, clumsier than usual, and he gives her a soft smile. “Hey.”

She stares in silence, then looks away.

“Hey. We’re still four hours away from base. You’ve been out for ten. Are you okay?” She says all this in a monotone tone that almost reminds him of himself. He watches her face before answering, noting the taut line of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders, the straight line of her lips.

“My head is pounding,” he answers honestly. They have a deal about being honest with injuries. “And my legs feel a little shaky. I think I’m fine otherwise.”

She nods once, her voice still very even. “Good.”

He sits down next to her, watching her face as she watches the stars. He can’t get a feel of why she’s angry yet. At him for injecting himself? At the bounty hunter who outplayed them both? At herself for – in her mind – failing him? He decides to prod her a bit.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

He’s silent for a moment, deciding his best approach. “What happened?” he asks in the end, choosing not to push her just yet.

Her eyes close briefly and her mouth twists – a small sign of anger.

“He was waiting in the room. Caught me off-guard. He was lucky, nothing more.”

So she is angry at herself. He could hear it in her voice; the frustration and contempt. She believes it was her mistake, that she shouldn’t have been overpowered like that. But they’re all just human and they all make mistakes.

“Somehow, he knew he could use me against you,” she adds after a second, her voice quieter and… sorrowful. Cassian frowns. “And you let him.”

There it is. Her words are an accusation, and he’s not too surprised. She’s angry at him too. He takes a deep breath, looking out the window for a second. Trying to compose himself and his thoughts.

“We’re fine now,” he says simply. Jyn’s head snaps towards him and he turns back to her. She’s furious, a fire in her eyes as she glares at him. He looks back at her calmly, unintimidated.

“You injected yourself with something we don’t even know and then you weren’t waking up –”

“There was a bigger chance of him letting you go if I complied –”

“So I’m your weakness now?” she cuts in, her voice rising in indignation and disbelief. “I don’t want to be used against you, ever.”

She looks upset but clearly still holding back from feeling her true emotions – which was not anger but fear. Cassian fights the urge to take her into his arms and soothe all her worries with touch alone; he needs to say this, she needs to hear it.

“Jyn,” he begins slowly, his tone serious, “loving you is not a weakness. It never could be.”

“It was today,” she breathes out, her shoulders sagging as a cloudy expression overtakes her face. Cassian can’t help himself anymore. He pulls her into his arms and she goes willingly. She buries her face in his shoulder, her breathing shaky as she finally lets herself go. A few minutes pass in silence, Cassian gently rubbing her back just to let her know that he’s here.

“I was scared,” she admits once she gets her breathing under control, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t want to be the reason you were captured.”

“He had a blaster to your head,” Cassian says, the memory of it seared into his brain. He didn’t want to dwell on it too much then, but now that it’s over, he knows the sight will haunt him for a while to come. “I’m always gonna choose you.”

He pulls away to look at her, carding his fingers through her hair as she stares up at him with sad green eyes.

“Maybe that’s a weakness in a way.” He strokes a finger down her cheek, flicking her chin with a gentle smile. It earns him a tiny quirk of her lips and he’ll take that as a win. “But it’s also my strength.”

She looks at him for a while, contemplating, her big green eyes seeing right through his soul. Eventually, she puts her head back on his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist as she clings to him like a loth-cat. He holds her just as tightly, his chin falling on her shoulder.

“You’ll always be my strength, Jyn.”

[thehoneybuzz]

Chasing Baker

My Nana was my greatest adversary.

In an otherwise charmed life, Nana was an immovable force and the only legitimate challenger to my willpower. Not without the warmth one would expect from a grandmother, Nana could be sharp - like a sun-warmed pane of glass. Lesser hearts might have bent to me when I requested accommodation - but not Nana. Nana set a firm bedtime, insisted on efficient tooth brushing, and rather than negotiate with hair tangles, made short work of them in single, swift wrenches when brushing your hair. No nonsense. When you stayed with her - in one of two twin beds in a room made precisely for grandchildren - you often found yourself in bed with the lights out, with no real memory of having gotten there, swept away in the tide of your sheets. Nana was uncompromising, and no arena was more suited to our mutual stubbornness as the dinner table.

I grew up a notoriously picky eater. After a weekend at my Uncle Jerry's, my mom received a hardcover copy of "The Strong-Willed Child" from him as a gift. He had spanked me for not eating chicken nuggets. As evident by its title, the book was meant to coach my mother on parenting strategies for mitigating my innate obstinance. This would not be the only copy of the book my mother received. Though, I think she could have written one by the time I turned 4. I simply refused to eat the things I didn't like, and that was a long list.

A relative once applauded - clapped his hands together in joy- upon learning that I had graduated from having the crusts cut off my bread to full-blown sandwich eating. The peanut butter and honey sandwich was my signature dish and an absolute staple. I'd like to say I've grown out of it - and I've certainly grown having tried llama steak in Peru, lamb heart at the table of a Lebanese family, and Greenland shark in an Icelandic cafe - but it took me a long time to let go of my habits and permit myself to try, and it took some coaxing. My preferences ran deep.

My diet from ages six through eleven included Eggo waffles, peanut butter and honey sandwiches, an assortment of cereals, a handful of specific fruits and vegetables, and the occasional steak when mom thought my iron was low. My mom - on the advice of a pediatrician who told her that if she force-fed me, I'd develop an eating disorder - catered to this preference. Nana did not. They must have been seeing different pediatricians.

Nana took the clear your plate approach - The approach driven by reward and consequence. Finish your plate, cookies delivered. Fail to try, become hungry and hungrier still as dessert passes you by. I took to swallowing food whole, and my mom took to sending me with granola bars on visitations. She'd line the interior of my suitcase like we were smuggling drugs. I'll admit it was an unusual form of contraband, but the measure seemed necessary in a divorced child's duplicitous world. What my mom saw as nourishment, my Dad might see as undermined parenting strategy even under the best of circumstances - which they often weren't. I was hungry, so decided it best to keep things a secret and wrappers out of the trash.

Despite Nana's apparent best efforts, I avoided the eating disorder. Thanks to my mom, I avoided most foods until my early 20s. I don't know who was right. What I know for certain is that I was loved.

When I sat down with Nana after my trip to Mt. Baker, she clutched her heart as she said. "Ally - to think about you as this little girl - and that you would only eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches - to think of you climbing mountains…" she shakes her head, "… well I just can't believe it."

I started to laugh and asked her, "Want to know the best part?"

She nodded, smile in her eyes, full of that sunny warmth - playful and kaleidoscopic.

"I ate peanut butter and honey sandwiches up and down the side of that mountain, Nana," I told her, laughing, and then we laughed together. Growing up is fun, I thought, especially in moments like this.

Laughing with your grandmother is a gift you receive in exchange for time, and it is a beautiful gift indeed. Here is a woman who bathed you, clothed you, fed you - and by the time you're old enough to understand the magnitude of the life she held before all that, she is often gone. I'm lucky to have this time. Nana is 90 years old now, and my mother's mother passed at 74. I never got to have the conversations I wanted to have with my grandmother, who died. To ask her questions like, 'Who were you?' 'What lifetimes made up the love you gave so effortlessly away?'

There is something about mountain climbing that makes you consider those kinds of questions in real-time. There is something about mountain climbing that makes you feel as if you are in the process of 'becoming.' So when, at the parking lot of Grandy Creek Grocery, I met my fellow climbers and our guides - there was a feeling of anticipation and nervousness about who I'd be sharing that story with. Dropping me off, my mom described it like the first day of kindergarten. The first person I met was Sharon.

I had been worried about Sharon. Weeks before, on the pre-trip Zoom call, she stood out from the digital crowd as the most visibly senior person there. Sharon did not look old - she looked undoubtedly the oldest. I think this is an important distinction - particularly to Sharon. I remember thinking - "I hope she is not on my trip because I'm worried she will show me down." A very judgmental thought and the universe saw to its reckoning. Sharon surprised the hell out of me.

She paced the parking lot, and I jumped out of my rig to greet her. We quickly began commiserating. Baker would be her first mountain. I had Mount St. Helens under my belt, but it's not much in the way of experience. We talked about our training plan, recounting long drives to taller places. Sharon was from Wisconsin, and she had to drive 45 minutes to get to peaks at 3,000 - the same as me in Eastern Washington. We had a lot in common. Where I ran, she had been hiking with weight and jogging. Sharon wasn't afraid of hard work. On our drive to the trailhead, I learned that she had just lost 75 pounds last year. I learned later that when Sharon signed up for this climb, she hadn't told anyone in her family she was doing it. She was 62 years old and had never once traveled alone. What on earth possessed her to climb a mountain? I'd be afraid of that question, too.

Sharon eventually fessed up to her family and made the trip official. That's how we found ourselves on the side of a mountain together. I'm embarrassed to have been so fundamentally wrong - but my confession is not without meaning, and I learned an important lesson. Never underestimate a Sharon.

When Melissa, our guide, described Mt. Baker for the first time, she called it by its indigenous name, Komo Kulshan. She then gave us its epithet - "The Great White Watcher." Having now met Kulshan face to face, I can tell you that's precisely how he feels. The summit looms as you navigate through the trees. Stoic in the face of the wilderness that surrounds him. Ice cold, he waits. In the Lummi language, he's called 'white sentinel.' He is persistent, vigilant, and watching.

I focused my nervous energy on preparing to meet this mountain by learning what I could about him. I learned that Mt. Baker is 10,781 feet tall, an active volcano, and the second most glaciated mountain in the continental united states (Rainier's got it beat, and you don't count Alaska). It's a formidable mountain, known - as nearly all alpine environments are - for its quickly changing conditions and the perils of its geology. This all, somehow, frightened me less than the thought of meeting Melissa Arnot-Reid. Her legend loomed not in the Cascades - where only a single peak resides above the threshold of 14,000 feet by which the Rockies measure their formidable "fourteeners." Melissa's legend loomed as large as Everest, on who's summit she has been six times - the only American woman to summit without the use of supplemental oxygen and survive. 29,032 feet. Melissa was someone I wanted to learn from, and I was scared shitless of her by reputation.

Suffering a bit of social awkwardness around celebrities, I prepared to meet Melissa by seeking to learn nothing about her at all. The antithesis of my mountain strategy - I told myself our experience would be what it was when we met on the mountain. My job was to learn - to ask my questions courageously - and be vulnerable and bold in seeking truth. I spent a fair bit of time wondering if she might be an ass hole, too. The age-old adage, "don't meet your heroes," drifted in and out of my mind.

In the last 15 minutes of our drive to Grandy's, my mom started reading Melissa's Wikipedia page aloud to me as I navigated the road, undoing months of my concerted preparation. I let her continue, greedy for information. "It says she trains by depriving herself of things - that she'll go without food and water."

"Probably a good idea if you're ever going to be stuck on the side of a mountain without it," I told her. I braced myself for a response. In the past few months, my mother had a growing sensitivity around topics that might suggest I could die on the side of a mountain. Admitting, so blatantly, that mountain climbing was a dangerous sport left me vulnerable to excessive mothering accompanied by exclamations of "Don't you dare!" Instead, my mom sort of nodded and continued, "I'm surprised her baby came out healthy."

My brow furrowed. I hated my mother for saying it. I had avoided a lecture from the mother of the mountaineer but failed to account for the mother of the daughter aged-almost-thirty. My uterus is a topic of conversation around my mother's table. Apparently, so was Melissas. Not wanting to discuss either, I let my mother's comment go unchecked as she continued to list accomplishments. "This article says she's focused on business, not emotions. That she is an incredible problem-solver." Now her reports felt more like cheating - it felt like an unfair advantage to meet someone armed with publicly available information about them. When you Google "Allyson Tanzer," you won't find much about my disposition under pressure. I told my mom it was time to focus and turned up the music.

When we parked, and I went to introduce myself to Melissa, three things happened. As I introduced myself, she first quickly let me know that she would not be giving out hugs due to the pandemic. Then, taking my hand in a firm grip, Melissa detailed that she and our other guide, Adrienne, had critical guide business to discuss and would be with us in a moment. She reported being thrilled to be meeting us as she quickly dropped my hand. Within thirty seconds, I was apologizing profusely and backing my way into the grocery. What can I say - first time formally climbing mountains, and I wasn't sure of the protocol. I fiddled with a bag of Cheetohs and continued to hope that she wasn't just an ass hole.

I went to the bathroom for something to do and remembered what my mother said. Task-oriented. I figured Melissa probably didn't hate me, after all. Despite my earlier misgivings, I was grateful to know a bit about her character, regardless of how 'honestly' that information was obtained. Thanks, Mom.

Our climb began. We left Grandy's in a caravan and parked near 3000' at the winter routes trailhead. On the first day, you ascend to 6000' and establish camp. You carry about 40 pounds, walking 1 mile and about 1000 vertical feet per hour, stopping for 15-minute breaks in those intervals. Conditions are warm, which means you're doing something the mountaineers call "post-holing" - ramming deep holes (as if for a fence post) into the ground as you step through snow that's washed out underneath. It's slow-going and rigorous. An hour and a half in, Melissa reports that we're standing in the location where she usually takes the first break. Unseasonably warm weather with a heavy snow accumulation has made for an exciting start.

You walk along a canyon ridge formed by a retreating glacier. You realize that time here is not measured in the same cadence that it's known to you. Mountains measure time in millennium, not decades. The formations of rock are carved by years, not minutes. The ground holds a history you can't conceive of - an ancient history of rock and ice. You are constantly struck by feeling small both physically and in your very chronology. I spent the first day happily in awe.

At camp, you maintain - guides (and playfully designated junior guides), boil snow, establish a base, dig a toilet. You assess whether or not you need to poop in a bag and carry it down the mountain with you as you try - for the first time - a rehydrated meal claiming to be chili Mac and cheese. Melissa teaches us how to walk on rope over a glacier. I try to mimic her knots. She redefines your concept of efficiency - breathlessly describing a packing order that accounts for calorie intake, warmth requirements and weight distribution - Every contingency considered. When I win the Ice Ax Rodeo by landing my thrown ax in a particular configuration - all is right in the world. Melissa is a drill sergeant giving instruction. She outlines the next minute - next five minutes - next hour - next day.

Her matter-of-fact nature reminds me of something. When I gave my parents a ride in an airplane for the first time with me as the pilot in command, I provided them near the same briefing as we were parked on the ramp. It ended dramatically with, "And if anything should happen, you have to exit the aircraft first in the following fashion." At which point I launched myself from the plane. I wanted them to be prepared to fight their instincts to protect me. I’m the only pilot on board - and my job is to protect my passengers, no exceptions. They both described a sense of foreboding and peace at the demonstration. It’s precisely how I felt when Melissa explained how she would be rescuing herself from a crevasse. “If you fall, I get you out. If I fall, I get myself out, but I need your help as an anchor to do so.” She took the approach of coaching us in only what we needed for the next challenge. We would learn crevasse rescue on a need to know basis. At Grandy’s, she told us to expect 48 hours of endurance. At camp, we’re at hour 9. She painted a picture of the following day.

"We'll begin between 11, and 2 am. Expect switchbacks up the glacier, a series of flats, and gains over the next hour. In 3.5 miles, we'll gain an additional 2000 feet - meandering a path through the glacier's crevasses, and it will gradually become steeper over time. About 1.5 miles to the summit, we'll hit the Easton glacier culminating in the Roman Wall. Then, because God has a sense of humor, you have a long flat walk to the summit after the steepest portion. All said it will take us between 5-7 hours to the top."

Frankly, it was just about as simple as that.

My eyes opened at 11:50 pm to the sound of movement outside the tent. Melissa had coached us here, too. "You may not be sleeping," she told us as we readied for 'lights out.' Days from the summer solstice, the sun burned brightly above us at 7 pm. "Remember that you don't need sleep; you need rest. That's what you're getting here at camp. You're horizontal; your feet are out of your boots. Close your eyes, and know you're getting what you need." Felt like a lie, but sure enough, with two hours of sleep, I couldn't describe myself as tired.

I did, however, feel cold. Chilly night temperatures had crept into our tent, and dressing for the day was arduous. I knew to keep my clothes in my sleeping bag. It was a trick I learned from a friend made trekking in the Andes for dressing in the cold. I knew to shorten my trekking poles while climbing, thanks to my guide on that same trek. I'd be leaving my trekking poles behind today, though. Ice axes only. We divide into rope teams. The race begins, but there's no starting pistol - only wind.

Fifteen minutes into our climb and we're struggling to find the rhythm. I'm still shaking the bleariness of the cold. The rope between climbers takes on an interesting dynamic. While it connects you to your fellow climber, it also isolates you from them. You have to maintain a certain distance away from one another while maintaining the same pace. It's a dance with crampons on in glacial ice - a delicate dance indeed - and it's where climbing feels like a team sport. You're all in it together.

Voices rang out in sequence like a game of telephone - one of our team would need to climb down. We said short goodbyes and waited as Adrienne (guide) descended with climber to camp. We were lucky - we hadn’t been climbing long which meant Adrienne could climb down and back to rejoin her rope. Guide redundancy is a safety net when groups of climbers work together.

Darkness continued. We continued. As you persist, darkness seems to persist along with you. In the first hour, it grows heavy. Your world begins and ends at the light of your headlamp, and that's where you find it—your rhythm. Crampons crunching, breath steady, and the gentle swish of your layers create a sort of timpani, a medley of percussion sounds. Clink, brush, crunch, and clink, brush, crunch, as ax bites ice, the movement of your clothes, and the toe of your boot kicks crampon into snow propelling you forward. There isn't much to think about in this grinding meditation. You're grounded in tugs from ahead or behind you as you march, slowly up. You can count steps, miles, feet of elevation - whatever keeps you moving. Whatever keeps you going up.

Moments before sunrise, we would lose another on our team. I listened to Melissa coach her. "What we're headed to is going to be harder than what we've just done. If how you are feeling is taking away from your ability to focus on your next step - I can only tell you that it's not going to get easier from here." That's when I saw the decision on her face. Another round of goodbyes - this one a bit more somber. She had worked so hard.

The decision to descend is a difficult one, but it’s one of the most important you can make. There are steep consequences to being in over your head in a place so remote. The summit is a siren, beware. Melissa - aware of the remaining teams intention to summit - advised us to plug our ears as she told the descending climber the Sherpa belief that a mountain won't let you summit for the first time if it likes you. Mountains bring you back. Further, she coached, the decision to go down can lift an entire team's chance of success if you feel you're a liability. Recognizing yourself and your limitations truthfully is a mountain in itself. That's the summit this person made in her decision to descend.

Like a good Agatha Christie novel, our list of characters dwindled. We added layers and continued - five of the original eight. Melissa was right, again. After we lost the second climber, our ascent became a proper climb. From that point forward, if anyone decided to turn around - we would all have to. There was only one remaining guide, and she had to protect all her climbers, no exceptions - me in the cockpit all over again.

She didn't show it, but 62-year-old Sharon was genuinely frightened. She had realized the same thing I did. If she didn't make it - no one would. Sharon kept climbing. Remember when I was worried she would slow me down?

When the sun starts to rise, everything begins to feel possible again. I don't mean to say that things were hopeless, just that with the sun comes energy and a sense of renewal. Color returns to the landscape, and you can begin to be able to measure your progress concretely. The mountain casts a shadow across the earth, stretching miles. You can't believe that you are contained within that shadow, on the face of such a giant who stands so impossibly tall. Melissa stood there, and I took her picture.

She had turned out to be not an ass hole at all. Where I sought to be her student, she aspired to teach - at once brilliant and kind. Her stride - her sport - a work of art. The precise art of what she calls slow, uphill walking. Her shadow and the shadow of the mountain impressed upon me the power of legends.

As the Roman Wall came into view - I knew we had it. We short rope in and make one last push. If Mt. Baker is a joke from God, the ending of the Roman Wall is its punchline.

Atop the incline awaits a long, easy walk to a haystack peak some few hundred yards in the distance. I was bubbling with emotion as my heart rate settled and the view became clear. There wasn't much difference between where we stood and where we were going. We dropped our packs, unroped, and ran up the summit. I was in tears.

Melissa broke her no-hugs-in-the-pandemic rule and celebrated us each in turn. I snapped countless photos and spent each frozen moment smiling. I pulled Melissa and Sharon in close. I had felt something on my heart and only needed a moment's bravery to share it.

I started awkwardly.

"I'd like to say something to you and Sharon," I muttered, barely audible over the wind, as I tugged on Melissa's sleeve. I grabbed Sharon's arm and pulled her in too. I don't remember the exact thing I said or the exact way in which I said it. I remember pausing to make sure I got it right and wondering for a long time if I managed to do so.

I told them that I had come to the mountain expecting to be impressed by one person. Melissa promised an impressive education - on which she delivered. She is of that rare quality - the kind who’s presence improves you. I came to Baker with that expectation, I confessed, I expected Melissa. I paused before telling Sharon, her gloved hand in mine, “You?” I laughed nervously. “I wasn’t expecting. A 62-year-old woman….” I nodded back to Melissa, “And you, the mother of a 3-year-old…” I didn’t want to get this wrong. “You are two people who our society labels and confines. Yet, here you are - on top of a mountain. I have to tell you….” I was choked up in earnest here and struggled to continue.

"It matters.” I said. “What you do matters. It matters to have an example of what is possible. Both of you have provided that example to me and women like me. Thank you." I sobbed. "I am so grateful for it and grateful for you." Melissa smothered me in her jacket as she embraced me, once again, in a hug. Pandemic be damned. My tears froze. While I expected a "There's no crying in mountaineering" a la Tom Hanks in A League of Their Own (it was a climb of mostly women, after all) the admonishment never came.

Sharon grabbed hold of me next and we shared the alpine view. Before I knew it, we were the last two on the summit. The wind howled a steady cheer. Celebrations concluded, it was time to leave. I stayed for just a moment longer, watching Sharon as she left. They don't make anything more beautiful than a mountain, and it's a view worth savoring. I descended, joyfully, to my team.

I didn't bury Jake up there. In Ashes to Ashes, I told the story of taking my old farm dog's remains to the top of my first volcano. He's not so much a good luck charm as he is an omen of protection. I don't need luck as much as I need safety, and he serves his duty well. Jake stayed with me through our descent to camp. I needed a little protection coming down off the Roman Wall, I thought. I wanted him close until we were off the glacier. He lays now at the foot of my tent—a very good place for a very good dog.

There's a natural mindfulness to climbing. I often find myself living in the present step - not thinking about the route that lies below. You forget in moments that the trip up is accompanied by an equally long and perilous journey down. From the summit, your journey is far from over. Yet, time flies by even as you stop to admire the steam vents. The rainbow that surrounds the sun refracts joy and color the same.

You reach camp, celebrate, pack up. Miles and thousands of feet remain even from there. That's when you realize it's ending and when I realized I didn't want it to end.

We spent the next few miles getting to know each other in earnest, savoring time and mountain views, chatting in the way of long-form hikers - about the nature of things and through storytelling. Melissa regaled us with vulnerable truths and comedic parables. We laughed. I kept sipping at the wells of knowledge around me, drinking in the moments. Laughter distracted from hunger, from wet feet, and from the dull and dim realization that all good things must come to an end. We made our way to the bottom of the mountain. Just like that - we say goodbye.

Sharon drove me back to Grandy's. We chitter like school girls - adrenaline and nostalgia collide in our post-climb delirium. We talk about the future. I realize that we are good friends. I am humbled by just how wrong a person can be to believe something about someone for no good reason.

Mom picks me up, and with her embrace my adventure is over. I’ve come full circle - safe and sound, parked in the lot of Grandy Creek Grocery.

Melissa found us there and knocked on our window.

"Your daughter is really special. The MOST special,” my hero and friend told my mom. Mom beamed with a special pride reserved exclusively for mothers of strong-willed daughters. I had been misreading things - the adventure had only just begun.

There are eight years between Melissa and I. I’m not sure I’ll be chasing Everest in that time, but I know I won’t be finished. I’ve got thirty-three years to catch Sharon at 62. In the mountain blink of sixty-one years, I’ll be as old as my Nana and I hope at least half as wise. Good thing there are so many years - for there is so much left to climb.

[scarlettkat86]

FC5 GFH Tag!

Tagged by @chyrstis ty bb💜

My brain instantly emptied when I saw this tag. Hopefully I got it working enough to give y'all Lo as a GFH.

Loralai Dale Jones (GFH)

With Fangs for Hire

Boomer: "Bebee booms!" "Who's the bestest boy? You are!"

Peaches: starts singing pussy cat by bridge city sinners

"How bout a treat for that catitude eh? Wouldn't wanna end up like those peggies."

Cheeseburger: *offers hand and ear scratch* "hope you don't mind some fruits for a snack, I'd like to see you around for a long time big guy"

"hey cheesie, think I could ride on your back into battle? No?"

With other Guns for Hire

Sharky: *checking him out as he joins the team* "dammit, forgot my 'caution: wet floor' sign"

*high fives and secret handshake before shouting "team loshaw in the house!"

*sharky turns on radio. Set those sinners free starts playing.* "this is such a Johnny Cash knock off but goddamn it's good." * Starts singing off key and slaps his hand before he can turn it off.*

Adelaide: "Hey Ads, why's Jacob not on the 'any hole' list?"

*if adelaide is talking bad of hurk jr* "I'm all outta Bitch b gone spray, but these hands can show you what happens when you don't have anything kind to say."

"Im 100% certain I didnt need that image. Now I can't go back to the marina."

Jess *after watching her stealth kill a chosen and two judges in seconds* "I think you're lady boner is showing."

*while waiting* "You know sometimes I wish you'd talk more, but I'm learning the beauty of being one with natur-" *one of Jess' arrows hit the tree beside her head* "Fuck. I don't know if I'm afraid or horny right now. Both. I think both." Jess smirks, barely visible, but its there.

Nick Hey nick, wanna make a deal? *scratches beard* "Depends what you got in mind"

"Free flying lessons in exchange for painting a giant dick onto John's plane?" She rambles on about her plan and he agrees.

"Oh! I almost forgot! I found some of that old baby stuff the peggies took in a bunker a while back, tell Kim I'll be by this weekend."

Hurk Jr. Always greets her as ElDeeJay *finger guns* "Hurkinator!"

After a fight* Hurk runs over to her "Are you alright amigo?" *clutches scrape on her head* "first of all, did you see that peggie get launched? Amazing, and i think he's still in the tree!! Secondly, don't ever aim that rocket near me again or I'll throw you off a cliff."

Grace: *first time meeting her* "wow, you're gorgeous."

"sick shot! Think you could give me lessons?"

"I can sense your an honest person. Glad to have you at my back."

In combat:

•seeing an enemy: "the big ones mine."

•sneaking: "one two Lo is coming for you..."

•killing an enemy: "this never gets easier." "It's my life or yours!" "Think I strik have brain on my boots. Disgusting."

•Reviving: "I'll be there lickety split!" "You're not dying on my watch."

•Hurt: "sonofabitch!!owww." "I'm fine, it's just, a scratch." "Come on! Push through the pain, just a few more."

•Downed: "Take your time, I've got all day. Just bleeding out here." "Fuckfuckfuck" *vision blackened* "I don't see a light. That's.. that's a good thing, right?"

Driving:

If asked to drive: "Buckle up mother fuckers!" "You can totally trust me behind the wheel."

Reckless driving: "cheese on a cracker!" "Who the fuck taught you to drive? A blind man?" "Watch out, I don't want to meet a fiery death at the bottom of a cliff!"

•Changing the radio stations:

Faith's music *exaggerated yawning* "Nope, no, nein, I can't."

*oh John while riding with grace. Making up lyrics* Oh lawd!! Beauty and Grace! She's putting bullets in each and every peggies face!"

Idle:

• If you haven't tried Chad's grill, you've gotta. Don't be put off by the whole roadkill thing. It's fresh, it's delicious. Here feeds the whitetails. I mean have you seen Eli? That's a piece of meat I could sink my teeth into...."

•I wasn't born here in Montana, don't remember much of Tennessee. I do remember always going for hikes to local waterfalls or fishing with my dad there. Was a little more dense, a little less serene... man, I wish he'd of had a chance to see this place.

•Can't stand sitting around. Anyone wanna go for a run? No one?

Location specific:

•In the Whitetail Mountains: "Nothing makes my skin crawl quite like those wolf beacons. Faith has nothing on Jacob when it comes to psychological horrors."

•At Fall's End: So glad to see this place outta John's hands. Im not much for religion but I try to stop by to see Pastor Jerome often. Mans got some interesting stories from his time in service, and history of Hope County.

•Near any Clutch Nixon mission: Greatest or stupidest stuntman of all time. I tried the Baptism of fire one time. Lost an eyebrow, took two years for the burnt hair on the side of my head to grow back normal and broke my arm but man. It was thrilling.

Tagging: @goodboiboomer-fc5 @wewillryesagain @minilev @theblissburns @nightwingshero @jacobmybeloved if yall wanna.. sorry for any double tags, maybe you have a 2nd fc5 oc to share? No obligations though! I took... forever to find this in my drafts :/