#dis was more than i could've ever asked to come home from work to

[kiwibubbles5]

UR TELLING ME HONEYSUCKLE AND ROSES ARE THE JUNE BIRTH FLOWERS?!?! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA 💥💥💥 THAT'S ENTIRELY TOO WONDERFUL AND PERFECT KSHBDJDKSGSKFJDK W H A T

Happy Birthday to Dark (the second out of three this year) and of course I had to celebrate by drawing the birthday boy~ With honeysuckles and roses, as those are the birth flowers of June.

(I wanted to include pearls, moonstone, and alexandrite as well - as those are the birthstones of June - but couldn't think of any way to incorporate them without it looking too messy.)

@kiwibubbles5

[dadvans]

my favorite line in the entire bucktommy saga is maddie's reading of "wait, it's the same tommy?" because at that point you know this girl has been THROUGH IT way too many times in a short period, like:

her soon-to-be husband comes home. he just fake called out sick from work to fly into a hurricane with his closest coworkers, her disaster-prone brother she mostly raised included, to save his boss and his wife. he tells her all about it, adrenaline still pumping the day after he comes back from the COAST OF MEXICO, and is like, no, it's fine! see, my old co-worker tommy works in air ops and I saved his life once, and we used to be super tight--[insert 10 minute off-topic backstory about how tommy used to be a jackass but now he's different here]--until he moved away, and funny enough, buck was the guy who filled in for him? anyways, tommy's the coolest, we could've died but we didn't! how was your shift at dispatch, honey

her brother she pretty much raised comes over and also brings up this tommy guy. yeah, he's so cool! do you think it would be weird if i called him up and asked for a tour of harbor? he just seemed like a neat guy, i want to be his friend, you think chim would put in a good word for me?

her brother she pretty much raised comes over AGAIN and is like, okay FUCK this tommy guy, he's so cool and knows everyone and his meat is huge!!! my best friend likes him more than me and they're doing things without me and i'm so sad about this in a really abstract way, can i please have a bagel

her soon-to-be husband comes home in the middle of this and is like, yeah he's cool and knows everyone and his meat is definitely huge. LOVE that guy!

her brother she pretty much raised shows up at her workplace and is like, remember how i was experiencing jealous thoughts and feelings because the coolest guy i've ever met with the biggest meat isn't paying attention to me and is new besties with my best friend? i may have caused bodily harm about this and yes i did involve your almost husband as a co-conspirator

approximately 2-to-3 business days pass where she experiences quiet. maybe too much quiet

her brother she pretty much raised comes over for a fourth time and is like, i lied to my best friend who i was just telling you i was angry at and s l i g h t l y injured because he kept hanging out with this other guy i was trying to hang out with and totally unrelated but i went on this date with someone and lied to my best friend about it and oh yeah it's the same guy but that is so besides the point it's not even worth mentioning

justice for maddie

[ihrthoney]

no grave can hold my body down

pairings: arkham knight!jason todd x f!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, a lil bit of suicidal thoughts but nothing too major

word count: 1.8k

an: this is a more detailed version of this post! please request jason todd fic ideas pls pls pls. sorry if theres any mistakes it’s almost midnight lol

Almost two years had passed since Bruce Wayne came to your door and revealed who he was. Nearly 730 days since your boyfriend "died". Gotham was a city full of awful crimes and even worse people but you've never hated anyone like you hated Batman.

You can understand that he tried, the guilt he must feel probably consumes him and a sick part of you is glad. Not only was your boyfriend killed, with video evidence might you add, but his body was never recovered.

Jason would hate it if you saw the video of the Joker killing him but you needed to know. It was all for naught though, you never buried a body so your brain fully believes he isn't dead.

Whether or not it was the grief of having the love of your life ripped away from you or the feeling in your gut, you know Jason isn't dead. Until there is a body in front of you, you will do anything that you can to find him.

-

It started with swallowing your pride and asking the person you loathed for help.

Bruce obviously refused, he wanted to avoid another young person's death. You caught him by surprise with how you begged for his help, he fully expected you to be mad at him, to threaten him for answers. But no, instead you got on your hands and knees and begged him for help, which somehow made it worse.

For weeks you kept reaching out to him, asking him for any clues or hints, anything at all! He has all the resources a person could ever need, he's known as the greatest detective in the world but he can't find his son?

"I've told you, Jason is... Jason is dead. You saw the video. Get out of Gotham and move on, there is nothing more I can do for you." You didn’t stop there though.

You knew of Nightwing, that he was the robin before Jason. So you reached out to him when he was on patrol. Unlike Bruce, you actually felt bad for asking for help, especially since he was working and was grieving himself.

Even through the domino mask, his face scrunched in sympathy, and as gently as he could he told you he couldn't consciously help you. He couldn't let a civilian rope themself into business they wouldn't be able to walk out of.

Understanding of his reasoning, you started going against the law. You started to sneak into offices at different police stations in Gotham (they were sloppier than you could've ever thought, no wonder people love Batman).

Given Jason's at the time profession, he taught you how to defend yourself. There was never a time you didn't carry a knife on you, but you always left your gun at home. Living in Gotham, it was best to take all and every necessary safety precautions.

Using the very low-level skills you had, you searched places that were abandoned and discarded, anywhere that Joker was ever near in the past few years. A part of you knew that what you were doing was dangerous, that if Batman had found anything he would've done so already.

But you couldn't just go to work and pretend your boyfriend wasn't out there somewhere, alive or not you had to be absolutely sure. If you died trying then so be it, it's better than living in the reality of Jason not coming home.

-

A year went by, 365 days of feeling your sanity drain out of your body. You've been caught a few times by the police for trespassing and once by Batman himself who scolded and lectured you about your activities. He was livid, upset at you willingly putting yourself in danger. You were at a higher risk of dying than he was and yet you go out in nothing but black clothes and a few weapons. He's genuinely shocked you're still alive.

After Bruce catches you, he makes sure to keep tabs on you which prevents you from going out. Even if he's busy, if he sees your tag too far out he will drag you back to your place.

There's a part of you that wants to give up, to actually take his advice and move away. But you know deep down inside nothing will put out the fire of finding Jason. Even if you moved to a different country, you know you would still look for his hair, to listen for his voice in the crowd.

Months of gaslighting yourself that he'll knock on your door and say it's just one big prank, that he was on a big mission far away and couldn't tell you to keep you safe.

Millions of excuses rolled around in your head day and night, work was a blur. Bruce even tried to compensate by offering to pay for your rent, to help you seek medical help like a therapist. You know it would do you good to rest but the guilt of leaving Jason behind was too strong. He's been through so much in his life, you wouldn't dare abandon him.

You still stayed in the apartment you were looking at with Jason, "a safehouse" he called it, you weren't even 18 at the time but you both allowed yourselves to think ahead.

Every piece of furniture you bought it with him in mind, "This would be convenient for him to hide his gear," "He likes this color, plus the blanket is soft so it'll help him sleep." Jason consumed you, call it unhealthy but he was your night in this dark city.

There was a spare bedroom, you were going to originally use it as an office/workspace but instead, it's covered in all the papers you've stolen to find him. The floor, walls and even the door were covered, overlapped, and written on with any possible clue you could've stumbled upon. It's been months since you've been able to add something that wasn't already on there. So instead, you sat in the room and just stared at it, cried, ripped things down, and put them back up with tears streaming down your face. It didn’t help that you would hear Jason’s voice soothing you whenever you cried, reassuring you whenever you were down. You knew it was your subconscious trying to console you but you liked to believe he was really there.

Then there were the hallucinations, they started back when you stumbled upon a hostage situation in an old arcade at the end of Gotham, you swear it was Jason but when the guy looked up at you all you saw was a stranger. You were stuck in the police station for hours, yelled at for stupidly interfering in a dangerous situation. The cops looked at you with annoyance now, you were nothing more than a crazy love-sick girl.

-

Lately, work has been exhausting, learning there was a new robin made your stomach swirl. It was like Batman just moved on, how is that fair? How could he move on while you were stuck chasing dead ends? Why couldn't you just accept his death?

Instead of eating dinner, you let yourself boil in whatever hot water Gotham could provide and scrubbed layers of guilt off of your skin. You put on an old shirt of his, which was horribly faded by how much you wore and washed it then curled up in bed; The bed was too big but you didn't want a smaller one in case he came back.

Usually, you triple check that your windows and doors are bolted shut but for tonight you just trusted your brain. Sometimes, it felt like it would be easier if you didn't wake up anymore, at least when you closed your eyes you could see the Jason you knew and loved.

Tonight was one of those nights where sleep was in and out, so when you felt a hand push back some hair behind your ear, you grabbed the knife under your pillow and lunged forward though there were no sounds of anyone in pain, in fact you heard the knife hit the floor.

"You have to be faster than that, sweetheart."

That voice. You would know that voice anywhere.

You blink your eyes open, slowly revealing the man you love in front of you. Except, he wasn't in front of you. This wasn't the first time he's appeared in front of you, it broke your heart all the same.

The exhaustion creeped up your throat and tears started to slip down your face, "No don't cry baby, it's okay." 'Jason' attempted to reach his hand toward you but you shook your head, backing into the corner of the bed,

"This isn't real. Go away, please. Not tonight."

The ache Jason felt in his chest at the sound of your distress hurt him in a way he's never yet experienced. His poor girl crying, thinking he wasn't real.

"I'm real baby, I promise." He calmly approaches you, kneeling on the bed, a hand reaches out towards you again,

Your head was buried on your knees as you hugged yourself into a ball, "You're not! I haven't found you! This can't be real!"

"Please look at me sweetheart."

You noticed his voice sounded different, deeper, more matured. It caused you to slowly look up, "There you are."

That's when you see him. The scars, the tired look in his eyes, the rage he's hiding behind it; There’s a difference in color in his eyes but they're beautiful all the same. They still look at you with love.

None of your hallucinations were this detailed, to be honest you couldn't imagine what he would look like after the years have passed. So to see this, you knew it was real. (Or some villain was damn good at illusions.)

He was caught off guard as you hugged him tight, he had to swallow down the feeling to pull you off. You were the exception to everything, so for now he could stomach the feeling of being held in place because he (is trying to convince himself) knows it's out of love.

You sobbed in his chest, apologizing over and over and over again, "It's okay baby, take deep breaths please."

Again, you started to shake your head, "It's not okay, I should have found you. I tried to find you, I'm so sorry!"

"I saw the room baby, I know you tried but that wasn't your responsibility." He tried to reason with you, doing what he could to calm you down. It's been years since he's seen you, years since he's dealt with anything normal, his mind is all over the place.

"Don't say that, I love you Jace. I would rather die than stop looking."

Jason tensed at the phrase, after everything it's hard to believe you, to believe any of this but he wanted to see you. He had to.

A hand found its way in your hair, holding you close to his chest, "You did good honey, thank you for trying."

Lifting your head from his chest, you looked into his eyes, "I would do anything for you, I need you to know that."

He can only offer a small smile, he knows you did and there's a small piece of his heart that can rest knowing you didn't forget him, that you still loved him.

He hopes he can learn to love you again, too.

part 2? lmk down below :)

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[bohbee]

Do you think you could do some genshin characters reacting to you flinching during a fight? 👉🏻👈🏻 Im not picky with which characters as long as Childe is included

Flinching During an Argument, Genshin.

Part 1?

Masterlist

Characters: Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Wanderer.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, misunderstandings, past abusive relationships, insecurities, yelling, blood (unrelated), potential harming.

Notes: There are some kinds of spoilers for The Wanderers but yeah >:). Sorry for not writing for a long time, there's been a lot of stressful things happening in my life right now but I'm trying to write more :). There will be more parts to this I just don't know when.

Childe (Tartaglia, Ajax)

The room which was usually filled with laughs and smiles now had a dark aura. Both occupants of the household argue with each other, in a fit of rage and hurt. "Ajax please just listen to me! I could've lost you!" You said, wiping the tears from your eyes, a shudder left your chest as your boyfriend's eyes darkened towards you. His boots took a step forward and he pointed his finger toward you.

"You always underestimate me!" A vein popped from his forehead, the air getting thick causing your heart to speed up. "Ajax I di-" He cut you off with a shout causing you to back up into the wall "No! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I SUFFERED THROUGH TO BE SEEN LIKE THAT"

He went to push the hair out of his eyes, his gloved hand swayed in front of your face causing you to cover your eyes, frightened of his next course of action. Your knees buckle slightly. Childe's movements came to a halt, and his annoyance quickly left, now filled with shock and pain.

"Dove... I-" he started to speak, his hands gently grabbing yours, delicately not to strike for negative emotions in you. As he moved your defense, he winced at your fear-struck face, tears he caused painting your skin. "I would never... ever harm you... I'm so- so sorry" He opened his arms slowly, trying not to frighten you, offering for you to hug him, and you pounced into his grasp. Small sobs emitted from your throat, "I'm sorry- I just don't want to -hic- lose you, and I-" your rambling was cut off by a small hush from the ginger.

"I would never leave you... I was being unreasonable, let's just drop it for now, come on I'll take you to the bedroom."

The rest of the day was filled with soft hums, and both of you enjoyed each other's presence. "My dove?" Tartaglia's voice was soft, you looked up to meet his eyes questioning him. "C'mon let's go to a restaurant.... let me treat you?" He said, well more of asked... still not knowing how much you were willing to do. "Of course.... let's go."

Diluc

Nothing was different from today than any other day, you went on commissions and came home to your loving husband. However, the crimson irises begged to differ. "You need to stop being so reckless! You've come home yet again with a new bloodied bandage!" His tone was deep, filled with irritation and worry. Though, that didn't do much but annoy you. "Luc, please listen to me, love. This is a part of working for the Guild!"

His eyes shot toward yours, pure frustration filling his pupils. "Every. Day." He started, his body slowly getting up from where he was sitting. "I. Have. To. See. You. Get. Hurt." His body was slightly in front of you, a two-foot gap in between your bodies. "EVERY. DAMN. DAY.!" His booming voice shook the air, causing you to flinch and stumble onto the ground.

A few seconds of silence went by until he kneeled to where you fell. "I am deeply sorry, I- it was never my intention to frighten you, my love." His eyes were filled with shame and insecurity, his gloved hand reached out to you slowly. You softly grabbed it allowing him to pull you up and into a hug, watching for your injuries. "I'm sor-" you started but your husband shushed you "No need dear, I must be the one to apologize. I was being rash, just promise me that you'll be more careful?"

You nodded softly and hugged his torso a bit tighter, the both of you stood in the common room for a while before he broke away from the embrace. "Why don't you let me re-bandage your injuries and then after we can go for a walk?"

As the day continued on, the well-known couple could be seen walking down the paths of the outskirts of Monstadt. Hand in hand, soft delicate smiles painting both of their features.

Kaeya

Sadly, petty arguments with Kaeya always happened, it was all fine though. None of it really went far, that is until now. The two of you were in his office at the KOF building, snapping at each other. Snarky comments and shouts were heard throughout the whole building, though no one dared to enter not even Lisa nor Jean.

"You are being unreasonable!" you shouted at the blue-haired male who only scoffed back, he stood from his seat and turned his back away from you. "For the last time, now listen real closely and get it through your more than thick skull." He slowly turned towards you, his deep frustrated tone quickly shutting you up. "She was NOT flirting with me, just because you're insecure does not mean you get to PROJECT your feelings on me nor the poor lady who was being nice."

His words made you wince, stepping back in shock as you look up into his eyes with hurt, no more than hurt..... betrayal "oh." Your head bobbed in a quick nod as you went to leave the room. "W-wait.... (y/n) shit... I didn't mean-" he chased after you. The people in the city watched in shock which only rubbed the salt more in your wound.

You finally made it to your home, your boyfriend rushing in behind you. No words were spoken, his strong arms yanked you into a hug as you sobbed into his chest. "I....... I am so so sorry snowflake......" your loud cries pulled at his heart strings. After gathering your emotions, you went to respond, feeling guilty for the situation. "You were ri-" his soft lips slammed onto yours, effectively stopping your words. "Don't even think about finishing that sentence."

The two of you made an executive decision to take some time off together in which Jean more than happily approved of. The two of you were now in the amazing city of Sumeru, sitting together in the Grand Bazaar. Your head laying on his soft shoulder as both of you watch the amazing dancers.

Wanderer (Kuni)

You and the umbrella hat male were walking down a trail in the outskirts of Gandharva Ville, when suddenly a random root appeared from nowhere, which caused your body to fling forward into the ground. The Wanderer turned around slightly shocked, he laughed slightly and swung his hand to help you up. But the sudden motion frightened you and caused you to cower backwards. "I'm sorry!" you yelped out while closing your eyes, preparing for the hit that would never come.

Kuni looked at you shocked, no words left his mouth, he was truly stunned at the scene in front of him. You soon opened your eyes and looked to the side embarrassed, "I- uh- sorry heh, that's embarrassing.... well lets uh continue." You stood up and brushed your pants off and walked past your "new" boyfriend, expecting him to follow you. Though his next words, stopped your movements.

"What......" he paused before slightly hanging his head in shame "I know I used to... treat you unfairly....... just know that I am trying to get better." he muttered before walking to you and gripping the back of your shirt. "I don't want to lose nor hurt the one I love...." he mumbled before he slowly and awkwardly hugged you from behind.

"I know you are trying.... don't think I've given up on you Ku.... I trust you."

Over time, the two of you slowly dropped your walls with each other, becoming closer than ever. He was a completely different person than the one you used to date. Same face..... same body.... same soul..... just different purpose.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

I hope this is good :), I love you guys... also dude why are genshin characters written so WELL gah damn!

[cowgurrrl]

Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her. 

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her. 

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love." 

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out. 

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours. 

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints. 

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive. 

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know." 

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything. 

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute." 

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler. 

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall. 

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face. 

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room. 

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful." 

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself." 

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird." 

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself. 

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place." 

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass. 

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable." 

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track. 

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this. 

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his. 

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up. 

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college." 

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look. 

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything." 

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls." 

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly. 

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'." 

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety. 

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles. 

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me." 

"Then, that's what I'll do." 

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you. 

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in. 

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one. 

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him. 

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?" 

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down. 

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery. 

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting. 

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art. 

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck. 

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen. 

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to." 

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting. 

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness. 

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year. 

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand. 

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?" 

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says. 

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods. 

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him. 

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think. 

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd. 

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. 

"He is." 

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone." 

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email." 

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years." 

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands. 

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters. 

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you. 

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you." 

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault." 

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process. 

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree. 

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours. 

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks." 

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick. 

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

[torukmaktoskxawng]

run away with me

Pairing: Nor/Sarentu!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers for Avatar Frontiers of Pandora, fluff, angst, mentions of brainwashing and residential school trauma

Taglist: @mooniequeen

A/N: No one has requested me to write for AFoP so I decided to take matters into my own hands *cracks knuckles* Let's get to work.

This is basically my rendition of the cutscene you see when playing the game, after the title card. I made it lean more toward the angsty, romance play that we were robbed of when the game finally came out XD Enjoy!

Part 2

When So'lek told you that Nor had left Resistance HQ to have some time to think, you knew you needed to seek him out.

Using your new abilities and talents to track him down, it didn't shock you when you found Nor on one of the highest cliffs near the base of their new home. You remember he made a comment earlier about how there were more colors on Pandora than he remembered and how he had no names for them. You suspected he'd be all the way out here, admiring those colors and maybe trying to invent new names for them.

He didn't react when you approached the small fire he made, likely expecting you to come find him. He turned to face you with lowered ears and a forlorn look in his eyes, "What must our ancestors think of us? Do you think they pity us? Sad to see what we've become?"

"We're still Sarentu."

"Teylan barely speaks our tongue, but then... he always preferred human words."

"Alma says we all need time to adjust."

"Alma is not Na'vi." He growled lowly, turning away to kneel down in front of the fire.

You weren't deterred by his attitude, knowing Nor better than you sometimes knew yourself. He felt things stronger than most. He was passionate about what or how he felt and he wasn't afraid to admit it, hence why he didn't shy away when he proudly proclaimed his feelings toward you. It was years ago now, just the night before Alma snuck you and your friends into cryosleep to wait out the war. All that time you could've been with Nor... lost to cryosleep.

Nor felt the same loss as well, and that is why he wasn't wasting any more time. When neither of you are out on missions, you're with each other, safe at HQ, making up for lost time. Your relationship is technically still new and can easily be chalked up to young love, but Nor didn't see it that way. He claimed that was the way only Sky People saw it, but not the Na'vi. He wanted to do this right, and in his mind, the only right way was the Na'vi way.

So he asked So'lek for advice, on standard Na'vi customs and what the older man might know about the Sarentu ways to court someone. Nor was determined and straightforward about what he wanted to make sure you only got the best treatment. The Na'vi treatment, something that you deserved to have when you were younger but it was taken from you.

That's what you loved about him, growing up beside him. He reminded you so much of your sister at times with their shared determination as kids, though you refused to continue making that comparison after she died... afraid that if Nor acted too much like Aha'ri, then he would die just like her. You couldn't bear to lose him, too, not after everything Mercer and TAP have done to you.

Even now, as you two stood on top of that cliff, you were afraid of losing him, either to death or to life, should life and fate decide to tear you two apart. You wished you could vocalize your fear to him, but you were never as brave or as straightforward as Nor. You were grateful he had approached you about his feelings first, or else neither of you would've ever known.

Although you were not one with words, you were one with actions, and even Nor knew that you communicated with deeds.

Walking up to him, you slide your hand over his shoulder, and while he doesn't say a word, trapped with the demons in his head, he places his own hand on top of yours, a gesture of gratitude. He was thankful for your comfort, knowing that your way of communicating stems from being touch-starved and you would rather voice your thoughts through your actions instead of just saying them because, to you, that means so much more.

You keep your hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his palm bleeding into your skin while you look up and over the cliffside, admiring the scenery with a sad tone in your voice, "Why did the RDA come back?"

"They wanted more of Pandora," he responds with defeat, "They always do."

"Then we'll need to fight," you express with determination, squeezing his shoulder, "Aha'ri would have wanted us to fight."

You try to pull away, but Nor is suddenly too fast. He grasps your hand, gently, and you pause in your movement. He stands to his full height to gaze into your eyes, trying to relay what he's thinking without saying a word. But he wasn't like you. He wasn't good at sharing his thoughts through actions. He was better at it by talking, so that is what he did.

"Or we could run," he suggests and is quick to continue when the expression on your face falls, "Leave this place. Find somewhere else to call home."

"We've talked about this, Nor," you sigh tiredly, recalling not long ago when you, him, Ri'nela and Teylan were all sitting around a fire as Nor suggested they could all run away together. You express the same thing you said back then, too, "Alma brought us here for a reason. She believes in us."

He snarls, though there isn't much heat behind it, "Alma just wants to control us."

Not even you believed what he was saying, lowering your voice to a comforting whisper, "Alma is not Mercer. She actually cares about us as People."

"She left us."

"She thought we were gone."

He steps closer until he's nearly pressed against your chest, his hands sliding up to gently grasp both sides of your face, entwined in your hair. His voice wavered, desperate eyes staring back into yours, "If it were me instead of her, I would've clawed through the rubble of TAP, and I would've looked forever. Un... until I knew for sure if I lost you or not."

You wanted to be touched by the statement, your heart fluttering in your chest while Nor could no doubt feel your heartbeat, pumping through his hands as they rested near both sides of your neck. You shake your head slightly, "That is different. What Alma feels for us is not the same as... as what you feel for me. For all of us."

He shivered, almost proud that you managed to admit your confidence in his feelings toward you. He leans his forehead against yours, breathing in the same air as you while he matches the intimate moment with a whisper, "Exactly. I can't trust Alma with my family. I can only trust myself or you to take care of the four of us, to ensure we stick together."

You wet your lips when they felt dry, deciding to play into his dream for a little bit, "Suppose we did run away... where would we go?"

'Wherever we want! All of us,' he wanted to say the same thing he told Teylan down by the campfire, but he says it differently with you, "Anywhere, far away from here."

"Just the four of us?"

"The four of us," he confirms with a nod, thinking that he had you convinced, "We'll start our own clan. We'll renew the Sarentu."

"And what will happen when the war eventually finds us?"

Your question drives Nor to freeze, and so you continue, "Either Mercer, RDA, or TAP, it won't matter. They'll find us. You know they will."

He unfroze finally, huffing with determination, "Then we will fight."

"But if we fight now, and we win, then we can leave and we will never have to worry about the Sky People again," your hands moved until they were wrapped around Nor's waist, a bold move to match his own, his fingers still wrapped up in the hair on the back of your neck,

"We would never have to keep running or look over our shoulders ever again," you continue, "If we can end this sooner than later, I will go with you. I'll go wherever you want. But... But I can't leave now knowing what the Sky People are capable of. I can't leave knowing that there would be another child out there whose clan was wiped out and I wasn't brave enough to stop it from happening. I would never forgive myself."

Your words stun him into silence, and the intensity of his gaze causes you to feel shy and embarrassed, lowering your head to avoid him until his hands pause your movement. He gently uses his thumbs to push your chin to tilt back up, and when your eyes meet, he pauses for a moment, his intense eyes scanning your expression before his lips twitch up into a small, fond smile, "Heh."

"What?" You tilt your head, hesitant but smiling as well.

"Nothing. It's just... Aha'ri would be proud of you."

He says it so confidently that you know you believe him, and his words make your heart swell with pride and grief, missing your sister. Nor leans back and digs in the pocket of his pants, "I have something for you."

"What is it?"

He provides a carved stone, bearing the mark you both have on your face to signify your long-lost clan, "It's something to remind you of me, whenever you leave HQ and I cannot follow you. It's also a promise."

"What promise?"

"That if I ever leave, it will only be when you are ready to come with me," he leans back into your space, pressing your foreheads together once more as he closes his eyes, taking in your scent, "This time, my love, I go wherever you go."

You clutch the stone in your hand, wanting the carved mark to brand into your skin as you close your eyes as well. You already plan to tie Nor's stone into the songcord So'lek had given you, and you hope that in time, the songcord will grow, and there will be many more milestones to signify. Milestones that you hope that Nor and your friends will share with you, as Sarentu and as your family.

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS

RULES

TAGLISTS

[suzukiblu]

Further adventures in "kidnapping your soulmate for fun and profit" for @twird96.

"You did good with that guy who wrecked the street," Tim says, putting on Smiling Normal Civilian Face #2, which is a little more reserved than #4. Superboy turns red again.

"Technically I also wrecked the street," he says, looking embarrassed.

"It was already a wreck when you got there," Tim snorts. Property doesn't mean shit next to people. "And this way nobody died or got hurt too bad."

"You helped with that part," Superboy says, still red-faced. "Made it a lot easier to keep everybody safe with somebody who was thinking straight about getting them all out of the way, like I said. It's hard to, uh–concentrate on that many at once, you know?"

"Keeping track of where all the civilians are has to be a pain in a fight," Tim agrees, though he tries to make it sound more like he's following Superboy's logic than already fully aware of the vitality of situational awareness from his own vigilante gig. Superboy blinks, cocking his head.

"Oh–no, that part's easy," he says. "I can feel everybody. It's just, uh . . . actively spreading my TTK out that much? I gotta concentrate a lot harder. So it's just way easier when nobody's in the line of fire."

Tim . . . pauses. Tilts his head. He is, technically, aware of how Superboy's tactile telekinesis works, but that sounded like . . .

"Sorry," he says. "You had everybody there in your TTK field?"

"Mostly," Superboy says. "Like I said, it's hard to concentrate on that many people, especially if they're running around in a panic."

"Why would you split your focus like that?" Tim asks, a little mystified. Though he guesses this explains how Superboy noticed what he was doing without ever actually looking at him, come to think. "Doesn't it weaken your powers?"

"Well, yeah, but that dude was blowing up the whole street, man," Superboy says, making a face. "Somebody could've gotten shrapneled or something."

It occurs to Tim, slowly, that the amount of injured civilians really wasn't as high as it should've been, and in fact most of the injuries he did see had most likely been caused in the initial attack. So that means . . .

Oh.

. . . huh.

"Huh," he says. "I didn't realize that was something you could do."

"I try not to advertise it," Superboy says sheepishly. "So, uh, bad guys won't start going after civilians harder when I'm fighting 'em. Or pick crowded areas to pick fights in."

"I was under the impression that you advertised most of what your powers can do," Tim says wryly, though again, he did get that impression from stolen files and cheap magazines.

"Well, yeah," Superboy says with an awkward shrug. "Otherwise people don't think I'm doing anything. Like, that I'm just punching stuff or whatever. Uh, so–how long are you in town for, then?"

"Just for the day," Tim says while making further mental re-evaluations of his soulmate. And it's an admittedly terrible cover, but–"I'm flying back to Gotham on a redeye. I just dropped in to get some time to myself, but I've got school on Monday and a paper to write for it. You know how it is."

"Not so much, man, I don't do that," Superboy says, and Tim . . . pauses, again.

"You don't . . . what, go to school?" he asks.

"Naw," Superboy says. "On account of supervillains attack it when I do."

"So you're home-schooled?" Tim assumes, trying not to cringe at the idea of Rex Leech teaching Superboy math or economics or anything even vaguely in that wheelhouse. That cannot possibly end well.

"Naw," Superboy repeats with another shrug. "Got superhero shit to do. And also, like, brand deals to do. Not really my thing anyway."

. . . Tim is reminded, again, that Superboy is not in fact legally a person and is therefore not in any way protected by labor laws, and Rex Leech and every single dodgy opportunist he's been selling Superboy's likeness to probably knows that. Not even the laws intended for civilians or metahumans or minors or animals would apply, in fact.

Fuck.

The next six months of this kidnapping plot are going to be an agonizing wait, Tim's already realizing.

Fuuuuuck.

[scoobydoodean]

ELEANOR: The demon I could've handled, but when the angel stepped in, I - I told him, Bobby. They have enough to crack Purgatory wide open.

Cas pops in right after Elenor dies from the torture Crowley and Cas inflicted on her. Cas immediately shifts the blame onto Crowley even though Eleanor said he was the real terror.

CASTIEL: I'm sorry this had to happen. Crowley got carried away. BOBBY: Yeah, I bet it was all Crowley you son of a bitch!

Sam and Dean have to hold Bobby back. He and Eleanor had a romantic relationship in the past.

Dean again appeals to Cas's conscience (or rather, his lack of one):

DEAN: You don't even see it, do you? How totally off the rails you are!

This season, Dean has seen Cas torture a child. Cas has used Dean without permission as bait and for a spell. Cas knew Crowley was forcing Sam and Dean to work for him after a certain point and allowed it to continue until he couldn't anymore because they were going to kill each other. Cas killed Lenore simply because trying to convince her to just lay low for a while was too inconvenient. Last episode, Balthazar told Sam and Dean that Cas's plan relied on Cas being able to sustain the energy of all the souls he planned to consume, and there was a high likelihood he'd fail and blow up the world. Balathazar tells Cas this too, but Cas's only reponse is too demand Balthazar's loyalty without ever addressing his concern. He ignores it because it doesn't support his narrative of how this will all go—how Cas needs it to go. Cas has abandoned so many of his convictions at this point just to prove that he was right to go down this path to begin with. He just tortured someone to the point of death and he's about to do more.

CASTIEL: Enough! I don't care what you think.

And yet lying to them all season was explicitly because he did care what they thought. He knew they wouldn't like what he was up to. He knew Balthazar wouldn't like it either and lied to him too, and to Rachel and the other angels. All because he was ashamed.

CASTIEL: I've tried to make you understand. You won't listen.

This is code for "I told you how things would go and that there was no discussion to be had and you didn't fall in line". Now the threats:

CASTIEL: So let me make this simple. Please, go home and let me stop Raphael. I won't ask again. DEAN: Well, good, 'cause I think you already know the answer. CASTIEL: I wish it hadn't come to this.

No one is making him do this. What he's about to do is a choice he is making that no one is forcing him to make. Even if he wanted Sam and Dean out of his way, he could have done any number of things other than this. In fact, he could have done other things that were arguably much more effective. He only needed to delay them for 24 hours. He could have flown them to the other side of the world and left them there. He could have locked them in a prison. He could have knocked them unconscious. He could have even made them forget, which would have also been cruel, but it would have been more effective. But the path he chooses is breaking Sam's mind.

CASTIEL: Well rest assured, when this is all over, I will save Sam, but only if you stand down.

Whereas in the previous episode, we can reasonably argue that Cas's words come out wrong and he doesn't actually mean to imply that he'll save Lisa only if Dean does as Cas tells him to do, in this case... we can't argue that. He is explicitly telling Dean that he's going to destroy Sam's mind, and that Sam's mind will remain broken even after all of this is over if Dean doesn't do as he's told.

Cas is trying—not as effectively as he knows how, but rather as cruelly as he knows how—to bring Dean to heel. He chooses this action even though it's arguably less effective than other things he could do because he wants to not just control but also punish Dean for disloyalty and disobedience. Dean returned Sam's soul behind Cas's back after Cas told him not to in 6.10 with ulterior motives. Breaking Sam's mind in this specific way is another way of proving that Cas is right and that Dean should have listened to him. Cas makes the thing he was worried would happen—happen to punish Dean for not listening to him. It's honestly incredible that their relationship recovered, especially with all the personal experiences Dean has with angels specifically trying to force him to comply with their demands via force and threats.

[chivgf]

One Last Time (pt. 1)

izogie x reader

summary: the mighty agojie attacked the men of your village. your husband, along with many other warriors died, but you and the women have a choice; join the agojie, or leave with nowhere to go. you choose to stay but are in no way prepared to find comfort in the same cold-blooded warrior who stuck her machete through your husband's heart. (Izogie calls reader a nickname throughout fic.)

warnings: violence/death (duh, if you scared you shoulda stayed tf home!), kinda fucked up romance given the fact that Izogie murdered your husband but she's just a girl. idk what other warnings i need to add so yeah just read it & i hope you enjoy enough to anticipate more parts possibly???

A/N: ik this part is kinda short but it's pretty much just an intro to this series, plus ive been working on this for months on end and i need to publish it before i start to despise it.

Spite and resentment consumed you as you watched your husband bleed out on the dirt. You remembered her face vividly. Sharp jawline, thick eyebrows and full-ish lips. Scars that could've created roads to walk on. Bursting out of your hut like a mad dog, you kneeled down over his weak body.

“Efosa!” you weeped. “Wake up, it is not the end! You must fight.” Tears streamed from your eyes like mini rivers. Your blood stained hands reached down into the sack on his belt and retrieved the wooden charm you gifted him before the war. You held it close to your chest and closed your eyes to avoid taking another glance at him. You could hear the metal clanking and battle cries cease.

“I will never forg--”

Before you could speak a last word to your husband, a hand grasped your shoulder firmly. Your body jerked and you turned slowly, afraid. It was her. There was a formerly healed scar on her eyebrow that appeared to have reopened during this fight.

“You have to come with us,” she spoke. Her eyes started on you, then moved to your husband. A disgusting smirk formed on her lips. She was proud to have killed him.

“I refuse to go anywhere with you! You are a monster. You find this amusing?” you spat at her. The smirk fell quickly.

“On your feet. We are taking you all to Dahomey.”

“My home is here. I am staying here.”

“I will not ask you again.”

“Good,” you replied, turning your focus back to Efosa.

Without a doubt, she stuck to her word. She aggressively snatched you up and threw you over her shoulder, taking you to the march line. You began kicking your feet and punching her back like a child throwing a tantrum. “Let me go!” you cried. “You killed my husband, you savage! Don't touch me!”

“If you continue to disobey me you will end up just like him,” she said without hesitation.

You were silenced. You stood quiet in line the entire march to Dahomey.

•••

“...any woman who does not wish to stay, is free to go.” General Nanisca ended her speech and watched many women make their exit. The woman from the battle was burning holes into you with her eyes, watching, waiting for you to crack and leave like a weakling. You refused to give her the satisfaction. You stared back into her brown eyes, clenching your jaw in nervousness.

“Let us move along then,” Amenza, Nanisca's most trusted warrior spoke. The intense eye contact was finally broken.

Moving further into the palace you were sent to sit with more experienced Agojie and wait for further instruction. You found yourself next to a woman with a small Afro and two braids on the sides of her head.

“They call me Desi, who are you?” she said as she studied you.

“Does it matter?”

“Mm, fair enough. Freed captive or Mahi?”

“Mahi,” you replied.

“Ah, I see.”

“Who is she?” you pointed as Nanisca, Amenza, and the husband slaughterer walked past.

“Izogie. Strongest warrior I know. Ran into trouble?” she asked, picking at her frighteningly sharp nails.

“You could say that.”

“My advice? Put it behind you. You will need her more than you will ever know.”

You nodded your head. She did seem strong. And smart. Perhaps you would need her. But you didn't want to think about that; for now she was still the same woman who ripped your life from you in a matter of minutes.

“Go and bathe yourselves, you know the drill,” Izogie boomed, walking to the area that you were in. You and Desi followed the other women heading to the baths, your hand in hers. An uneasy feeling consumed you as you felt Desi let go of your hand and walk at a swifter pace. “Eh-eh,” Izogie interrupted, grabbing your arm. Desi continued to scurry along. “Not you.”

You looked down at her hand. Her nails were like Desi's, only sharper and more deadly. Making matters worse, they were also digging into your skin. You whined at the pain a tad, but refused to say anything. When she finally released you, a little bit of blood slowly trailed down your glistening arm. You weren't sure if she even noticed. You covered the nail marks with your hand. “Have I done something?”

“Taken a liking to Desi I see.”

“Not necessarily.. she was informing me of the way things should work in advance.”

You impatiently awaited a response, but there wasn't one. She just stood over you, her frame completely blocking you from joining the others. You were micro compared to her, and she found it extremely amusing.

“If that is all, I'd like to go bathe now,” you croaked, breaking the silence. Her chuckle released some of the tension on her side, in turn building up some on yours. “Was there a joke?” you said, slightly irritated. She saw you as nothing but a pampered village wife, and you knew it. Izogie placed her hands on her knees and bent down to your level, once again reminding you of how small you are to her. Her face only inches away from yours, she whispered into your ear two simple words before walking away from the entire conversation.

“Be careful.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine as she made herself scarce. The scent of essential oils and incense lingered in the air, making you dizzy. Unsure of what she meant, you stumbled in confusion to the baths. There were many bodies taking up space in the water, but nowhere you looked was a familiar face. You scanned and scanned for Desi, your head still spinning a tad bit from your confusing conversation with Izogie. What about Desi was there to be careful about? She seemed sweet enough, no?

After a minute or two of searching for Desi, you found it pointless and decided to just bathe and get it over with. The steam from the warmth caused you to sweat as you let yourself sink into the water. You let out a small wince as a mix of the sweat and hot water grazed the nail imprint in your arm. “Ah!” you whimpered aloud, quickly looking around to make sure no one heard you. It was awkward to be alone in the baths with everyone speaking to people that they knew, so you found it easier to just close your eyes and pretend that you were alone, just like at home. You tuned out all of the loud voices and started humming a song to yourself, and finished up your bathing.

•••

You flapped out your mat lazily. It was your first day in the palace; no training yet, no nothing, yet you felt like you'd been worked half to death. The smell of palm oil and Jasmine floated in the air as you smoothed your mat out more and sat down on it. There were many women around you, some talking to absolutely no one, just like you. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to speak to anyone. You had no appetite at mealtime, and you weren't in the mood for sleep either.

Your thoughts of your late husband rang loudly in your ears. You had rarely ever been without him. He went to battle, yes, but he would always return safely to at least kiss you goodnight. Now, his caring and loving was simply just gone. Every part of you wished he was a ghost, haunting you in the sweetest ways. Brushing past you with a cold breeze when you feel alone, showing up in your dreams when your memories of him fade.

You found your restless body wandering around the dark palace. It was silent for the most part, besides the light and distant voices of the wives conversing in their quarters. It was surprisingly calming; the fires burning through the chilly night to warm you. After a while of aimlessly walking around, you started to hear faint noises. Your ears rang slightly as you strained to listen further. There was grunting and hacking, like someone was cutting down a tough tree. You followed the noises and a trail of sandal prints. The prints let you know this was none of the girls and women you had arrived with; this was someone who'd been settled.

Tiptoeing to the gate, you peeked around it curiously to find her.

Why couldn't you avoid her? What is her problem... What's yours?

You tried quickly to make yourself scarce from her, as she was equipped with her machete and swinging it angrily at the hay soldier ahead of her. Unfortunately for you, Izogie senses everything.

She tucked her machete in close to her and bent her knees in a defensive position. She continued to inch closer to you, asking, “Who is there?”

Low hung your head as you slowly revealed yourself to her.

“Ahh, it isYona.”

You looked up and raised a brow. “Yona?”

“Dove. You are meek and gentle; far too passive to make it here.” She placed her machete gently back into her scabbard and folded her arms. You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply. You knew you were not a warrior, but where else would a Mahi woman go in Dahomey? You could only live off of the streets for so long. Stepping closer, she followed your wandering eyes with her head. “Look at me,” Izogie demanded.

“I am not a dove,” you spat. You raised your head to meet her eyes. “I can do this, I will survive here.”

“Mm,” she nodded and retrieved her machete. “Show me.”

It was scary, to say the absolute least. Never in your life had you touched a weapon with intention to use it. Not even for defense. You reached out, your hands grazing her sharp nails once again. Recalling the moment those same nails broke through your skin sent a chill down your spine, but you managed to mask it. Holding the machete tightly in a fist, you bent down low like you'd seen your husband do in training.

“Swing it.”

“At what target?” you inquired studying the four hay soldiers to your left.

“Me.”

Your heart dropped. You didn't want to hurt anyone. Maybe that was your problem; you weren't willing to put anyone's life at stake, even if your own depended on it. Not to mention, Izogie is not only second-in-command, but has much experience. You don't have an ounce. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it and moved closer, still low in position.

“Are you sure?”

“Yona, you would not ask the enemy such questions. Show me that you are a warrior. Show me that you have what it takes.”

You shut your eyelids tightly, took a breath, then studied her. Her eyes, to be specific. Efosa used to say, “The weakness is in the eyes,” but you could not find it. There was a strange coldness that she carried in her gaze; never breaking, never shifting.

“I've got all night,” she taunted, motioning for you to bring it on.

You noticed the same smirk on her face from when she stood over you, her blood covered hand on your arm. Blood that belonged to your husband. Anger consumed you as your breathing started to pick up. You gripped the machete tighter and began to follow her movements. After a minute of mirroring her, you took your first swing. It was wild, but you didn't care all that much. She dodged swiftly by an inch. Watching the fire from the torches dance on her face, you slid on the dirt and took another wild swing, this time at her lower half, cutting a gash in her clothing and her lower thigh. She let out a dry grunt but stayed focused on dodging your relentless jabbing and swatting with the weapon.

Your eyes were mad and fierce, your fury practically burning your skin. Izogie lunged forward at you, grabbing hold of both of your wrists with just one of her hands.

“That is enough, Yona.”

You pretended not to hear her and continued to struggle to get loose. The look in her eyes changed from demand to worry as she disarmed you and tossed the machete to the side. Still you fought, grabbing at her shoulders and taking her to the ground. It was like your body was moving way ahead of your brain. Izogie quickly overpowered you and climbed on top of you, pinning your wrists down near your head. You felt restless and weak underneath her.

“Enough!”

Her voice echoed in your ears as your vision started to get blurry and dark.

•••

“No, Miganon, what she needs is food. She hasn't laid one finger on anything since her arrival,” Izogie complained.

Nanisca scoffed and leaned over you.

“Take that up with her. She is awake now.”

You quickly scanned your surroundings. You lie on a highly elevated mat in a tent. There were weaponry decorations everywhere, a horn made of elephant tusk, and a pot of indigo dye. This was Izogie's personal tent.

Izogie watched from the tent's entrance as you took in everything. As you slowly locked eyes with her, you two exchanged no words. Your face carried a look of shame, remembering the actions that led up to this moment, while hers carried a look of guilt and concern. You keep your actions were irrational, especially since you would have to fight alongside her from now on, but you couldn't bare the pain of staring in the cold eyes of you husband's murderer.

Izogie took a breath before finally moving closer and speaking up.

“How..”

There was an odd change in her voice, was it hesitance that you heard?

“How are are you feeling?”

Your initial thought was to give her the silent treatment, but you decided against it and answered her question.

“I've been better,” you replied weakly. Your stomach growled, and you wondered if it was just as loud to the outside world as it was in your head. Clutching your torso, you tried to sit up for a second.

“Woah, careful,” Izogie rushed over and supported your back, holding you upright. She shook her head at her own actions. Why was she going out of her way to make sure you were alright after you...

Something clicked. You forgot that you'd injured her during your little explosion. You grabbed hold of her forearm with both hands and leaned over the mat. There on her thigh. That laceration you created. Pain inflicted on her, of your doing. Even after everything she'd done, you couldn't shake the feeling that she didn't fully deserve that. War is war, sides are sides. None of it was in her control, and it wasn't personal. You had to keep reminding yourself of that to get by.

Your head felt extremely heavy, but you still managed to pick it up to look at her. “I apologize,” you murmured. She looked down at her thigh, then back at you.

“I've had worse, trust me.”

The tent fell silent for a few moments before she spoke again.

“You should eat something.”

A nod from you was enough to send her straight out of the tent without hesitation, and when she returned, in her palms rested a fresh bowl of stew. The smell made your mouth water.

“Don't just stare, eat up.”

She passed you the bowl and leaned against one of the wooden posts set up in the tent. She watched you as if she was obligated to; as if she didn't have other things to tend to. You began to dig into the food she brought, completely ignoring the fact that her eyes never once left you. There was a deep regret tracing her face as you felt her presence move closer to you. Slurping the remains of the stew and wiping your lips, you looked to your side in curiosity. Her right hand was fidgeting with something in her beltsack nervously before she started to tell you something.

“You dropped this,” she presented you with Efosa's wooden charm. “..during the fight.”

You dropped the empty bowl immediately and grasped for the charm, your hands shaking as you turned it every which way to make sure nothing had happened to it. A great sigh of relief escaped your fragile frame. What would you have done if you'd lost it?

“I carved this myself, you know,” you told her, a tear forming in your waterline.

“It is very..”

Izogie grappled to find the right words, practically walking on eggshells so that she wouldn't trigger anymore negative emotions.

“It takes skill to create something like that.”

You let out a dry chuckle. The irony was too much for you to handle.

“What about your skill? What techniques work best for you when you leave your tent prepared to take a life?”

“I leave with intent to protect, not to kill, Yona. The Agojie are not just cold-blooded murderers, you must understand-”

You cut her off. “Save it. No words will remove that sight from my mind. How can you do something like that, then pretend it never happened? Tell me how, Izogie!”

“This is my life! I cannot change his fate, and for that I apologize, but you have no right to fault me when he, too, was rushing at me with a machete in his grip. He was trained not to stop until his target was down, as was I. Tell me, Yona, was I supposed to stand there and die? What else could I have done in such a situation?!” she raised her voice, slightly losing her breath after her statement.

She paced back and forth, her nails scratching her chin softly while she tried to think of what else to say as best she could.

“I am sorry! How many times must I repeat it until you forgive me?” she mumbled, her voice lessening to a whisper. In the short amount of time you'd been there, you'd taken note that every one of these warriors looked up to Izogie. They spoke of her as though she was some sort of unmovable force, yet you, in all your physical weakness, moved her with such ease.

“I don't know if I can.”

At your words, Izogie nodded and peeled back the entrance of the tent, clenching her jaw before removing herself. The sound of her footsteps retreating left an uncertain reaction in your body; you weren't quite sure if you wanted her to stay or not. The words she spoke to you were circulating through your mind, and you couldn't help but feel like she made a point. Before you could swim around in your mind for too long, you heard the tent open up once more. Expecting Izogie, you felt a pang of hope creep in, but it was just Desi, holding wildflowers.

“What's this?” you laughed, hands outstretched to receive the flowers she was handing you.

“I picked them myself, by the river. I figured you would appreciate some color,” Desi smiled sweetly, the new wooden beads attached to her two braids clanking in the wind. “That is very kind, Desi.”

She nodded. “The palace whispers, you know? About you.”

“Oh? What do they say?” you asked as you propped yourself up to listen better.

“They whisper that you were the cause of that cut on Izogie's leg; they also whisper that you are aiming for high ranks. They say that General Nanisca is next in your movement. Is it true?”

A snort escaped your nose; you'd never heard something so absurd.

“You cannot be serious. There is no movement, it was a simple fight,” you clarified firmly.

“I see, so you are just another palace myth?” she chuckled, but you didn't find anything funny. You shook your head and rubbed your temples.

“I am not in the mood for jokes,” you stated. You turned over on your mat and faced away from her. “You may leave, thank you for the flowers.”

“But I have just-”

Desi was interrupted by something. Rather, someone. You flipped back over to see why exactly she'd stopped talking so abruptly mid sentence. A tall familiar figure loomed over her shorter frame, its hand on her shoulder.

“I believe you were asked to leave.”

Izogie guided her out of the tent and walked to her weapon stand. You noted that her legs and hands were drenched in water as she placed her scabbard on the stand and removed her sandles, tossing them to the side.

“You are back,” you stated plainly, a pinch of relief lacing your words.

“Well yes, this is my tent.”

Facing away from you, she continued to dress down into clothing that provided more comfort for sleep. You couldn't help but watch, unable to fathom how one could be so rough around the edges, yet so graceful in every movement she makes.

“You are wet,” you added on top of your previous statement, your eyes still glued to her. She finally turned to face you. You'd never noticed how pretty she really is. You suppose nobody talks about things like that all that much in the palace unless speaking of Ghezo's wives, but Izogie was genuinely a good-looking woman in your eyes. You'd never blatantly admit that though, no.

“Any other observations you would like to voice before I lay down to rest?” she responded in an exhausted tone. She reached behind her stand and pulled out an extra mat, much more shabby than the one you were laying on.

A sigh escaped your lips before you shook your head no and spoke up again.

“Is that for me?”

“Do you really think that I would force you to-”

She stopped herself to take a grounding breath.

“I am not the monster you think I am, Yona.”

And those were her last words to you that night.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Outside of the fox

Chapter 18 of ???(I've entirely lost track)

2577 words

Y/N longs for a new life when the one she'd been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.

Last

Jin departs in the late afternoon of the day after the holiday, not before Namjoon convinces him to go for coffee with him. Not that it seemed to take that much convincing. 

The bear swore it was only as friends, but the little blush crept onto his cheeks whenever the others brought up the doctor.

Taehyung never actually leaves... 

He doesn't even attempt to go home for the remainder of the time off from work, in fact, he doesn't even leave to fetch his own clothes. The first Monday back at work arrives and you find him waiting for you at the front door in a pair of Jungkook's slacks and Jimin's shirt. It's been odd having him around, especially now knowing that he was your boss. He had also monopolized a lot of Jimin's time so you hadn't exactly gotten a chance to talk to the redhead alone much either. 

It didn't stop you from catching him staring at your lips every time he zoned out. 

"So do you ever intend to actually go home?" You ask Taehyung, glancing sideways at him as soon as he pulls away from the drive. 

"I don't know what you mean." He shrugs, although a smirk plays at the corner of his lips.

"I mean, you must have your own home and your own clothes to return to at some point." You make a point of tugging at the slightly too-short sleeve that was slowly creeping up his wrist. 

"In theory, I must... But everything, before I walked through that door on Solstice eve eve, is a blur. I don't think I was ever alive before Jimin."

You can't help but roll your eyes. The pair had been sickeningly in love since the wishing party. And yes it was cute, but it also cause your stomach to bubble as you watched them fawn over one another so easily. 

Your late husband had never been so openly affectionate with you, and you knew you could've had JImin's attention like that if only you hadn't closed yourself off so hard. It seemed it might be too late to try and open yourself up more now, each member too preoccupied with another. You were happy for them, but sometimes it made you question if you should have moved out.

Namjoon was constantly texting back and forth with Jin, it was like you'd caught a naughty child with his hand in the cookie jar every time you went near him to find him on his phone. He would immediately shut it off and fling it across the table. He'd smashed his phone in at least two places so far from misjudging the distance. The poor device never stood a chance against the kitchen floor. 

Yoongi and Hoseok had claimed inspiration had struck and hadn't taken themselves out of the studio in days for anything other than water and food. Hoseok did make a point of sitting close to you for the short periods of time when they did surface. And you had noticed a distinct increase in Yoongi scenting you as he glided past you on his way in and out of the house. It made you jump the first few times, now it just makes your cheeks feel a little too warm. 

"Y/N? Did I lose you somewhere?" Taehyung's voice breaks through your thoughts

"Sorry?.." You blink away the memories and try to focus back on him. 

"Where did you go?" He asks

"Nowhere, sorry."

"Did I make you jealous? Talking about Jiminie like that? Do you want me to tell you about how I thought I'd died and gone to heaven the first time you walked into my office building?"

"Oh shut up." You roll your eyes.

"I'm serious..."

"You ignored me completely."

"You took my breath away."

He pulls into the parking lot outside of the office building, saving you from dignifying that with an answer. You glance around nd see all of your colleagues clambering from their own cars, each looking a little depressed over the prospect of returning to work.

"Is it a good idea I'm seen getting out of the boss's car?" You half-joke.

"You eat lunch with the boss every day... I think it's late to be concerned about being seen with me." He laughs. "Hardly anyone knows I'm actually the boss anyway. Why do you think I still get harassed some days?"

You remember then how you had never actually seen the jackass that was making him uncomfortable after your interview day, you had just assumed he had moved on careerwise. Now it made sense that perhaps Taehyung had taken more drastic steps. 

Taehyung locks the door and wraps an arm around your waist to direct you into the building.

___________________________

Your day at work is dull, nothing new happens, and everyone was still emotionally hungover from their excessive family time (some may have also been physically hungover, but you thought it more polite not to ask...).

Taehyung does finally admit that he needs to go and fetch some of his own clothes as he spent most of the day pulling Yoongi's boxers away to stop the ever-encroaching wedgie. So you walk home like you normally would. 

The house is dark when you pull up. You assume that maybe everyone else is still at work and Kookie's asleep so you creep through the door trying not to wake the bunny in case he is passed out on the couch. 

To your surprise, there is no Jungkook insight. instead, Namjoon is standing at the dining table which has been reduced to just two chairs and covered in a white tablecloth. A candle flickers in the middle of the setup and fairy lights are draped around the room creating an ambient glow.

"I'm sorry Joon, I didn't realise you had plans... did I miss it in the group chat?" 

Usually when the boys had individual dates planned they posted it so everyone else could make themselves sparse.

"What? Oh... no. This is for us, for you..." He swipes at the back of his neck anxiously.

"For me?" 

You walk further into the room and take in his smart clothing. A simple white button-up under a light brown blazer with matching slacks. 

"Well, I was hoping... If you wanted... Maybe we could get to know one another better?" He stutters as he asks. 

He leans over onto the breakfast bar to pick up a bouquet of flowers you hadn't noticed before and holds them out for you to take. You sniff the flowers and hold them close to your chest, hoping that Namjoon can't see how warm your face has gotten.

"As a friend?.. or as a... date"

It seems like a stupid question, with the specific design he had gone for, but you had been known to read a room wrong before.

"As a date if that's okay? If it's not I can turn the lights on and get rid of the candle. We can completely forget this ever happened." He says gesturing so close to the flame he nearly knocks it straight over. 

"A date is okay." You nod, "But I am going to change out of my work clothes first."

He takes the flowers back and puts them into a vase as you head up the stairs. But you hesitate on the first step.

"Joonie?" You ask

"Yeah?"

"Did you cook..?"

"No, Yoongi helped."

You sigh in relief and head up to change. Joonie is so amazing in so many ways but you weren't really looking to get food poisoning in time for your second day back at work.

You find a cute little dress amongst tan dress amongst your things that would match Namjoon's outfit nicely. It gives you pause for a second, maybe you are trying too hard but you shook the thought away and threw it on anyway, not allowing yourself to back out. 

The smell of food from downstairs was making your mouth water and you decided it was best not to allow yourself to think too hard for fear of locking the door to your room and not returning downstairs. 

Namjoon is placing a plate on each side of the table as you walk back down into the main room. He pulls a chair back for you and gestures for you to sit down. He bumps the table with his knee as he slides in opposite you. 

"We made pasta, Jimin said you told him you liked pasta," Namjoon said.

"I do, thanks." You take a bite, it's delicious, concrete evidence that the bear had had substantial help. 

"How was work today?" He asked.

You talked about your day for a little while in between mouthfuls of food, and soon the main course was gone, plates emptied. Namjoon shares some anecdotes about his morning filled with meetings with his editor, nothing unusual in his day. 

Your hand rests on the table and you watch as Namjoon's eyes flicker to it a couple of times, his own hand slowly inching across the table towards you. Eventually, he makes his move locking his fingers with yours.

"Is this okay?" He asks, not making eye contact. 

You don't answer, simply use the opportunity to squeeze his fingers so he will look at you. He visibly relaxes when you don't reject his advance, his thumb rubbing at your absent-mindedly as you just look at one another. Your eyes flit accidentally to the adorable little freckle below his lower lip more than once. He must notice because he startles a little and pulls his hand away. 

He coughs and excuses himself to fetch dessert from the fridge. Your hand feels cold at the loss. 

He places a small gateau in front of you both with two forks. You wait until he takes a bite before picking up the fork that was meant for you. The cake is gorgeous and decadent, it clearly took a lot of effort to make something this nice.

"When did you have time to plan all of this?" You ask in between bites.

"I've been trying to set this up for over a week. Honestly, I thought you'd caught me the day I launched my phone across the room..." He says sheepishly.

"Oh! Is this what you were doing? I thought you were texting Jin!" You exclaim.

"How often do you think I talk to the doctor?" He asks.

"A lot... Do you not talk to him a lot? You sure talk about him a lot..." You tease. 

You watch as his cheeks tinge and he struggles to stop himself from smiling. 

"I guess I do... But I don't want to talk about him right now." He says, holding out his fork with the last bite on for you to eat. 

You take the bite from him happily licking your lips when the cake is all gone.

"What do you want to talk about?" 

"I want to talk about you, about us, about the pack going forward." He says.

Your stomach drops at the mention of the future. He takes the plate over to the sink allowing you to stew in your thoughts as he rinses the remains from the porcelain. When he comes back over he offers you his hand and you take it, not sure what to say yet. 

He leads you out into the backyard where the furniture is still set up with pillows and blankets. He takes a blanket and drapes it around your shoulders before settling next to you and placing another blanket across both of your laps. You offer him the other half of the blanket around your shoulders before he can reach for his own.

His body heat next to you is warmer than any blanket could ever be. The two of you sit and watch the stars in complete silence for a short while. The looming conversation weighed heavily on your heart as you waited for him to start talking.

"So... I don't want to push anything. I really really don't, but I want to know where you are at. I know that Yoongi talked you through our intentions, and I know Jimin finally made his move. I just need to know what you're comfortable with because I'm going a little out of my mind." He admits.

Your heart beats even faster, you hadn't realised everyone knew about yours and Jimin's kiss, although you probably should've guessed. It's hard to be put on the spot like this but at the same time, you understand where Namjoon might be coming from. You were giving these boys nothing to work with, and most of them had been very upfront with you about the way they felt, even if you didn't always quite believe them. 

"You're not pushing. I've been thinking about it a lot. Watching everyone this week, all so touchy and in love with one another, it made my heartache." 

You don't turn to face him, choosing to focus on a star far in the distance. You can feel his gaze on you.

"If that's what you want, you need only ask." He whispers leaning in a little closer. 

"I think it might be what I want..." You admit.

When you finally meet his eyes, his face is mere centimetres from yours.

"Then go ahead and ask me, because I am going to go insane if you don't tell me I can touch you." He says.

You can feel his breath ghosting across your lips. You're not sure if it's the proximity or the wine you'd had with dinner but your mind goes cloudy, and the only things you can see are his eyes pulling you into him.

"Touch me Namjoon." You breathe.

Immediately his hands are around your waist as he pulls you onto his lap. His pillowy lips find yours and he kissed you gently, his fingers drawing circles into your back as your legs settle on either side of his. The blanket that was across your legs falls to the ground, neither of you caring to pick it back up as his heat radiates through your body. 

Slowly the kiss gets more intense and you find yourself naturally grinding down onto him. He moans underneath you and bites down on your bottom lip. His mouth travels down from your lips along your chin to the collum of your throat, he nips along the exposed flesh as you wrap your arms around him.

It's when his tongue licks over your scent gland that you finally come to your senses, feeling how hard he is underneath you, startling you away a little. The second you pull back he stops, hands coming to rest on your hips, him breathing heavily with his pupils blown as he looks at you properly.

"Sorry, I took that too far..." H apologises, moving to release you from his grasp.

"No!" You exclaim holding his hands in place. "Just no one has ever done that to me before..."

"Oh, okay, I shouldn't have assumed, it's just something most hybrids I know have done, licking a scent gland is usually reserved for horny teenagers." He looks sheepishly at the hickey he had just started to leave behind.

"I didn't... I didn't really fool around as a teenager, and my husband... he was human."

"Your... husband?" Namjoon looks especially confused, and that's when it occurs to you that none of them know... Not even Jimin is aware of where you really came from 

Next

Masterlist

[crow2222]

this is a yap about parry i made like a few days ago

parry………….

at the rumble when darry first saw paul come up, in the book- "Something flickered behind Darry's eyes and then they were ice again." This could just be a sign of recognition but i feel like it was more like a shock- seeing him again after years and in the MUSICIAL (i didnt see it sadly but) Paul asks him if he still has the shirt paul gave him, and that he looked good in it . As much as someone will say "oh friends just say that to each other" I'll never listen because these are men from the SIXTIES and def did not compliment each other that often!!!

They have history and i will forever imagine it as exs- and maybe toxic because of their dynamics/ upbringings. Darry always having to work for what he has- and paul, who probably never lifted a finger for much. Darry would've put in so much effort for paul, afriad paul would realise he's better than darry. He'd be ashamed of his neighbourhood, his brothers and friends (who are more greaser-like than him, because they dont buddy around socs like he does).

Obviously paul must've liked him too, i doubt he'd be crazy enough to mess around with boys like that during this time, seeing how it could've gotten either of them killed. I feel like paul wouldn't put in nearly as much effort in their relationship, doing the same things he'd do with a girl- maybe even less with internalised homophobia- which means darry would be treated like shit, paul jus grew up being able to toss away anything at any time and that would dangle above darry's head when he'd think about paul's girls that he'd dropped without a second though…

They were both on the football team……. and if they were together, those team showers would be awkward for them, seeing how they'd find it hard to rip their eyes from each other's bodies. But they'd also feel so proud of each other after the other does a good play, and maybe run off to be able to congradulate each other without peering eyes?

They'd still have girlfriends. if they didn't, it'd be weird- seeing how they're both part of the football team and good looking. Darry would probably keep one and keep enough effort to make it seem like love while paul would go from girl to girl without a care- it'd be easier for him too, seeing how he has money.

Darry truly loved Paul, and Paul just loved Darry. University is probably what broke them off; Paul was excited to go to the same university as Darry until he breaks the news that he can't afford it. Paul maybe sneakily tries to tell him he can help- but darry refuses, wanting to work for it himself (he'd feel guilty taking it, he always had to work for what he wants.) Paul is annoyed and snaps- takes it as darry seeing himself as better than paul- slaving away on roofs for some stupid education with his run down home and dirty family. Darry can't take it, and calls him the spoiled bitch he might be and breaks it off,

they end horribly, and even if darry got the last word- paul still feels smug about being in uni at the rumble. Darry's more worn out and tired- yet more worked out than ever when he notices him. Paul takes him on, sneaking a punch when darry looks away because he knows how good darry is at fighting- sneaking is probably the only way he could've gotten a first punch in- solidifying his position above darry (even if he runs away later, no one remembers the rumble and socs will always be on top..)

they will never end off on a good note, and if they were to meet in the future again, paul would always see himself as better than darry (Darry refuses help and will always be working for everything until he dies- of course I'm better, just see how scuffed his shoes are compared to mine.)- and vice versa (paul never earned his money, somehow feels better than everyone else because of it.- he'll never know true work like i do, I'm better.)

[pantherastevens]

His Sunshine in the Darkness: It All Started With Her Smile

Hello everyone~ I'm back, and it's with a new little series (technically, it's really just one extremely long story, but I broke it up in parts because if not, this post would be dumb long). I literally read two Yandere!Miles fics and kinda been obsessed with the idea (?) ever since.

Here are the two works, written by the lovely @l0v3morales (please write more of these, I'm begging you):

Stay With Me

Yours Forever

Thus I present to you, His Sunshine in the Darkness: Part One! This will most likely be divided into three parts (because I'm still writing this story, I'm currently at 12,838 words and counting. Buckle up kiddies, this is gonna be a long one).

I title Part One, "It All Started With Her Smile." I'm gonna ease y'all in with some fluff. Enough of me rambling. Enjoy!

Warnings: None, unless you're allergic to fluff

---------------------------------------

It all started with her smile.

Miles Gonzalo Morales was the new kid at Visions. It was the middle of the recorded school year, and he was a new kid. He wasn't a huge fan of the school, but his parents insisted it would be good for him... whatever that meant.

The first few days, he pretty much kept to himself. Socializing wasn't his strong suit, and he didn't desire to make a fool of himself in front of his new classmates, who seemed to understand that he didn't belong like the rest. It just so happened the school was "wise" enough to recognize he had a brain and offer him a scholarship to be there. His only escapes were his dorm (Ganke seemed like a cool enough guy), his home, and his art class.

Miles loved to draw more than anything. Whether it was his pencils, markers, or his uncle's spray paints, he found his freedom—the freedom to be himself.

And she noticed it, too.

Panthera Stevens was a fellow freshman who shared quite a few classes with him—including art. Upon seeing her for the first time, Miles swore Cupid must've stabbed him when he wasn't paying attention because he must've died and was meeting one of God's angels.  She had to be the prettiest girl that he'd ever seen. Smooth dark chocolate skin, thick dark shoulder-length sunbleached locs, naturally full, thick brows, plump lips, and almond-shaped expresso-colored eyes. She was on the short side, about 5'5 if Miles had to guess. While Miles was raised to be a gentleman, he was still a teenage boy. He had eyes and could see that Panthera was slowly developing a sweet little figure. He admired the girl from afar, seeing how he wasn't sure how to approach the beauty (Miles didn't care what his uncle said. The "hey" trick had to be the stupidest and most embarrassing thing he'd ever heard).

So you could imagine the boy's surprise when he heard the screech of a chair being pulled up next to him and found her big dark brown eyes staring into his soul.

"Hey, you're Miles, right," she said with a smile. The boy could feel his face heating up at the sight.

'She even has dimples... Buen Dios Todopoderoso, ella es tan linda...'

"U-uh... yeah, that's me," he said, fidgeting with his pencil. Panthera giggled, making the boy's blush worse.

"Nice to meet you, Miles. I'm Panthera. I couldn't help but notice that you're always by yourself and... well, I was wondering if you wanna be friends," she said; a bit of shyness could be seen in that smile. The boy blinked owlishly at her.

His crush wanted to be friends with him? The awkward, quiet new kid?

"I'm sorry. Was I being too forward?" Panthera asked softly, mistaking the boy's silence for rejection. Miles mentally slapped himself, urging his mouth to form words.

"N-No! Not at all. I-I would love to be friends with you!" That could've come out much smoother, but it still did the job.

Panthera Stevens's smile could rival the sun at that very moment, and Miles wanted to bask in its warmth forever.

-----------------------

Panthera and Miles became close friends very quickly. They would have study sessions at least three times a week and pretty much hung out every other weekend. Miles brought her to meet his parents toward the end of their freshmen year.

As expected, Panthera was the perfect angel. She came to the apartment in one of the prettiest dresses he'd ever seen with a bouquet in hand.

He always remembers her soft laugh at his dumbfounded expression.

"What are you staring at, Mi?" God, that nickname will always make his stomach explode with butterflies...

"I-uh, it's j-just that..." Panthera blinked those pretty eyes at him, waiting for him to finish.

"You look so beautiful, gatita," Miles muttered breathlessly. Panthera did a cute, shy shuffle. A sweet smile was on those soft lips.

"Thank you, Mi. My Baba always told me a good first impression is everything." Miles nodded mindlessly, eyes still trained on her lips.

"Mijo? Is that your friend at the door? Don't keep her waiting now!" Rio's voice broke the boy's trance, and he promptly ushered the girl inside. Miles secretly smiled as the girl slid off her shoes and left them by the front door, already knowing his parents would like that.

The meeting went even better than the young boy expected. Panthera greeted his parents with the same smile as when they first met. She called them by their last names. She gifted his mother with the bouquet, who happily accepted the flowers—even going as far as explaining the meaning of each one.

"I wanted to find something to represent the family you two built. The Black-Eye Susans represent justice, seeing how you live to serve and protect Mr. Morales. The Daylilies represent the Chinese emblem for the mother of the home, something you're doing such a wonderful job at, Mrs. Morales. And finally, the honeysuckle represents your love for each other and your son. I hope you like them."

The more his parents talked with the girl, the more taken they were with her. Rio insisted that she stay for dinner, which Panthera gracefully accepted. As the two women entered the kitchen, Miles turned to find his father looking down at him with a knowing smile and a teasing glint in his eye.

"You know, son, you seem pretty taken by Panthera... you sure you two are just friends?" Jefferson did his best not to laugh too hard at the sight of his son's red face.

"C'mon papá, stop it. W-we're just friends, nothing more," Miles huffed, not without shooting a glance of longing at the kitchen.

Panthera and his mamá seemed to chat joyfully, Panthera even stepping alongside Rio to help cook dinner. Rio's green eyes glowed with approval as she taught the girl how to make Mofongo.

God, if that didn't do funny things to his heart...

-----------------------

Miles knew his feelings were getting stronger by the day in their sophomore year. There wasn't a sketchbook he now owns that didn't have a sketch of Panthera somewhere among the pages. After meeting her, Rio insisted he bring Panthera around as often as possible. His room started carrying the faint smell of her and her vanilla and cocoa musk perfume.

If he cuddled his pillow that carried the scent of her hair oil that smelt like honey and cocoa butter, that shouldn't be anyone's business but his own.

The boy had it bad.

Everyone in his family could see it.

Uncle Aaron had demanded that he introduce the girl he was partially head over heels in love with (Miles can't even deny it anymore; it's been at least a year). Only to find out it was Eric's little girl, whom Aaron had basically adopted as his niece when she and her father first came to Brooklyn. The man was ecstatic, privately telling Miles that Panthera would make a kickass future wife. Miles nearly screamed that he was too young to think about that (even though that thought has passed his mind... multiple times).

She was invited to his dad's party to celebrate his upcoming position of becoming the Police captain. It was a little embarrassing having his family coo and giggle at the two of them, excitingly asking Miles if she was his girlfriend. Panthera was nice enough not to laugh out loud at the permanent blush that settled on his cheeks.

Miles thought his head would explode when his mom had the DJ play a song with everyone breaking into couples to dance bachata. 

"C'mon, Miles! You could dance with Panthera," Rio encouraged as she danced with her husband, who looked a little awkward trying to keep up with his wife's graceful movements. Panthera cocked her head at the boy, reminding him of the animal he, oh so fondly, nicknamed her.

"I don't mind dancing with you... but I don't want to step on your toes," Panthera offered. Miles focused on the girl, not the heat melting his face.

"I doubt you could do that, gatita. I could show you some basic steps," Miles said. Panthera nodded, relaxing as she allowed the Afro-Latino to guide her through the dance. Once she felt she got a feel of it, she was able to flow much easier with the boy. Miles' could feel his heart pounding away at his ribcage as he twirled the girl under his arm before holding the beauty close once more.

"I don't think I ever told you how beautiful you look tonight, gatita," Miles said softly as he rested his forehead against hers. Panthera's dark eyes twinkled at him.

"Thank you, Mi. I asked my dad to take me shopping for the occasion. Since I was gonna meet more of your family and all," she said shyly. Miles couldn't help but drink at the sight of her for the umpteenth time that night.

"I'm going have to send him a thank you card then. Not for just the outfit but for siring the most beautiful girl of all of Brooklyn," he said, a flirty grin tugging on his lips. Panthera laughed freely, the sound reverberating deep in her throat.

"Mi! Such a flirt," she giggled as she was spun about yet again. The girl seemed at peace, humming contentedly as she felt the heat of Miles' palms bleed through the material of her dress. Miles couldn't help the easygoing smile tugging on his lips as he lost himself in the music and those sparkling eyes.

-----------------------

"Your dad's speech was beautiful." Miles turned to look at the girl next to him. The pair decided to get some air from all the people. Panthera was looking out at the party lighting up the rooftop, her face glowing from the bright lights. Miles knew this image of her would be the newest addition to his sketchbook later that night when everyone went home, and he was alone in his room.

"Yeah, it was," Miles said softly. Panthera turned to him, reaching up to cup Miles' face with her hands.

'So soft...' Miles thought as he was pulled to Panthera's height. Puberty finally decided to be nice to him these past few months and give him some inches, much to Panthera's annoyance.

"Something in me is telling me to say this, so listen to me for a second, yeah?" Panthera could be reading dictionary definitions to him, and he would still hang onto her every word like he was now.

"Y-Yeah, sure. Anything for you, princesa," Miles mumbled. Panthera chuckled and shook her head at the nickname. Miles could tell he managed to fluster her a little, which he joyfully counted as a win.

"Never for one moment think you're alone. You have beautiful parents who love you more than life itself. You have a dope ass uncle who considers you his own son. And you have me. I wasn't sure what would happen the first day I sat next to you in art class, but I can say this is something I cherish deeply. You will always have me, Miles. Even if you feel like the world is crashing down around you... when you feel as if you have no one left... when you want to fall into the darkness... I'll be there to shield you as best I can. I'll be there to hold your hand. I'll be there to show you the light. I love you, Mi. Always." Miles felt his heart stall.

'I love you, Mi...'

Miles knew that Panthera could just be confessing her love for him as a friend, but his lovesick brain wouldn't let him see it as such. He wants to believe that Panthera sees him as something more. See them as something more.

Miles' shaky hands found Panthera's waist, tugging her closer.

"T-Thank you, Panthera... a-and I-I love you too," the boy whispered, breathless by the sheer intensity of it all. Her eyes, her warmth, her scent, her lips-

Miles nervously licked his own as he focused on Panthera's. So many times, he's daydreamed and dreamed about those lips. Full, soft, and oh so kissable. He often saw her put on some tinted lip oil (she barely believes in chapstick, only having one or two as a backup) which made them all the more enticing. It made the boy wonder what flavors she uses and how good she'll taste.

He may have kissed his pillow pretending it was Panthera for practice, but again, that was nobody's business but his own.

Miles leaned in, gauging the girl's reaction to him. Those lovely dark eyes lower, eyeing his wet bottom lip. Her hands migrated to his shoulders as she carefully balanced herself on her toes.

"I love you, mi vida," he whispered in the small space between their lips. He could hear the soft hitch in the girl's breath at his quiet confession.

There was no denying it. He loves Panthera Genesis Stevens. And finally, one of his fantasies was about to come true.

Miles closed his eyes as he felt their lips brush against each other... only for them to snap open when he heard,

"Hey Miles, you up- WHOA, MY GOD!" Miles and Panthera instinctively jumped away from each other to find an embarrassed Jefferson and an exasperated Rio.

"Dios mío, amor. I told you that there was a chance they would be up here and to leave them be. Now look what you have done," Rio playfully scolded her husband. Miles groaned out of embarrassment, tugging his braids while Panthera laughed nervously.

"Sorry about disappearing like that, Mr. and Mrs. Morales. Was there something that you need," Panthera asked, hoping to ease the tension and move on from... what almost happened between her and their son. Jefferson, still fighting off his embarrassed blush, let out a chuckle.

"Nothing crazy important. We just wanted to let you kids know that we're about the cut the cake Miles brought. Just in case you wanted some." The pair nodded.

"Yeah, we'll be there in a few minutes. Thanks for letting us know, papá," Miles said, finding the city skyline much more interesting than it was a minute ago. He could hear his mother's quiet laughter, dragging his father away to leave him alone with Panthera again. Before he could turn to her to apologize (for what, Miles wasn't entirely sure because, damn it, he wanted that kiss to happen), he felt something on his cheek.

That something was Panthera.

He turned to the girl, whose arms wrapped around one of his. She had a goofy smile.

"Don't apologize, alright? We're fine, I promise. Now come on, I heard you got red velvet, and I always wanted to try it!" Miles allowed himself to be dragged away by the cheerful girl, hand on the cheek that held a faint kiss print.

Not exactly what he was hoping for... but he certainly isn't complaining. And also trying to figure out how was he going to wash his face but preserve the mark...

---------------------------------------

Tags: @444morales thanks for being an amazing friend to listen to all my random ideas at odd hours at night. 💜💜💜

-Translations-

~Spanish~

Buen Dios Todopoderoso, ella es tan linda : Good God Almighty, she's so cute

Gatita : Kitten

Mijo : Darling

Papá : Dad

Princesa : Princess

Mi vida : My life

Dios mío, amor : My God, love

[ieatyourbeauty]

** I know it wont work like that - Phillip Graves x OC character**

This is probably gonna be a one off I am working on something with Enemies with benefits but other than that this one is just for fun.

Graves being the lonely bastard he is not the biggest ladies man hires a escort he's been intimate with for a while he's caught feelings for the woman strangely enough he seems familiar with her but why?

PinV segsuals, slightly stalkerish, Angst at the end : )

Graves is Orange

Lana(bunny) is Pink

(if you see me Im yellow)

Graves is waiting on the hotel bed looking up at the ceiling daydreaming about the past, There's a knock at the door and it snaps him out of his trance the knock is repeated. So he goes to open the door. After a moment, he gives a tired sigh and a faint smile.

Graves: You can come in, Lana.

She walked in a short maude dress her hair done up how He liked Graves was her biggest paying customer actually her only customer seems that every time she got a new customer they got run off scared by something....hmm weird, She only knew him by his last name Graves it sounded familiar to her but she can't remember why.

Lana(bunny): I thought I told you to call me Bunny Graves.....

Graves: You did. I'll.. call you Bunny. But, please.. make yourself at home.

He starts unbuttoning his shirt while he speaks, she puts her purse down on the table and moves the straps of her dress down.

Lana: Can u unzip me baby..

He nods and approaches her before slowly unzipping her dress. He speaks softly in a warm whisper.

Graves: Yes.. sweetheart. I can do that for you.

Lana: Thank you.

Oddly enough Lana remembers a boy that looked like him when she was in high school star athlete of the school straight A student a stark contrast to what she was in school a loner with no friends and only her journal to keep her company, she kisses Graves softly Her kiss is reciprocated by Graves, He's been more affectionate towards her even more as of late Graves speaks in return as he holds her close.

Graves: You've.. grown into a lovely woman since we were younger.

Lana's heart skips a beat she looks wide eyed at him she suddenly put two together, she remembers that rainy night between her and Phillip when she lost her virginity to Phillip....Phillip Graves

Lana: Phillip.....Phillip Graves?

He freezes a bit, before slowly letting out a sigh and nodding. He looks at her, then looks away before he speaks again. Graves voice is softer and there's a small smile on his face.

Graves: Yes.. I remember you. I have to admit.. you've changed quite a bit.. you used to be rather.. quiet.

He chuckles nervously

(Flashback time yipee It was raining outside Lana's father has forgotten to pick her up from school again Graves a senior in high school was about to drive home in his truck when he see's Lana alone in the rain he drives up to her and rolls down his window.)

Graves rolls down his window as he notices Lana standing out in the rain her clothes soaked. He looks down, and sees the younger Lana. There's a soft smile on his face as he speaks.

Graves: Hey you need a ride? It's raining pretty hard.

His tone is gentle and soft. He could've gone out with his friends, but he decides not to when he sees her, as his sense of responsibility kicks in. This is the first time he's spoken to her. She was hesitant at first but nods entering his truck she's quiet but she is polite.

Lana: Thanks, i'm sorry if i get your truck wet..

Graves: it's no problem this truck has seen worse.

The rain covers her tears due to her dad negligence After a few awkward moments, he asks a simple question.

Graves: Do you wanna talk about it?

Lana sniffs and looks down Graves could tell it was just not a good day for her and even though she really wasn't open with many people there was just something about the small kindness that Graves gave her that made her spill her guts.

Lana: He forgot to pick me up again.....ever since mom died....its just been getting worse with his drinking....he doesn't hit me no....its just..he forget's about me and...hes not there anymore.....like he's checked out of reality.

Graves: I'm so sorry.. I'm sure he's just.. going through a really hard time like you grieving I'm not excusing it just giving insight. But.. try to reach out to him, in anyway you can. He'll eventually get back.

He thought about his next response...both listening to the radio for a bit he let out another sigh and he continues speaking.

Graves: Is there anyplace you can stay at in the time being?

Lana: no.....we have family in Maine....but its so far away...and....I dont really have friends ever since I moved here.... it's partly my fault I dont talk to anyone.....well....besides you right now...

Graves lets out a small sigh, feeling guilty. He continues to drive as he looks at Lana, but then looks forward at the road and speaks in a soft voice again.

Graves: Well.. If you ever need somewhere to crash for the night, then you can always stay at my place.

Graves lets out nervous laugh as he speaks again.

Graves: That is.. if you don't mind, of course.. but.. the offer's always open.

Lana: that sounds...nice..thank you...I'm Lana.

Graves: I'm Phillip but people call me Graves..ironic since I'm in the military now.

Lana: you enlisted?

Graves nods his head as he speaks. His voice remains soft and gentle he keeps his eyes focused on the road as the rain beats harder on his truck, He looks happy as he explains why

Graves: Well.. Yeah. I enlisted. Seemed like a good way to build character. Learn new skills. See the world. Things like that.. and I've always wanted to do something meaningful, you know?

Lana: That's nice.....I'm still not sure what I want to be....I wanted to be a writer...but I need to be realistic at least that's what my dad says..

Graves: You could always be a writer. Just need to get a stable career first. Then, you just have to write a really, and I mean really good novel, and then boom! You're a writer! ah that was a bad joke I know.

Graves' laugh trails off, and he smiles brightly at her again, she laughs at his bad jokes she hasn't laughed in a long while when they pull up towards his house its in a nicer neighborhood, Graves dad is a Millionaire and his mother a socialite they were never home.

Lana: wow....your house is big

Graves: Yeah.. well.. It gets a bit empty, though. My parents are always traveling, and well.. There's not much life in this house. So.. You're always welcome, any time.

She nods they get out of his truck and enter his house its neat tidy the cleaning lady must have came and went Graves goes to his sisters rooms and grabs some dry clothes for Lana since she was out in the rain. Graves' expression stays soft as he hands her the dry clothing.

Graves: Get changed, if you'd like. I'll get you something warm to drink.

Lana: that would be nice thank you.

he closes the door and she looks around his room it looked neat tidy she did see his jersey on the floor and picked it up and put it on his bed she started to get undressed getting out of wet clothes and putting the dry clothes on Graves lets out a sigh, walking down to his kitchen once she shuts the door. As he walks down the stairs and enters the kitchen, Graves begins to grab different drinks and snacks before preparing to walk back upstairs, as he heads back to the room, Graves speaks loudly.

Graves: I'm coming back in, alright? I've got something for you.

Lana: oh wow....you didnt have to go through this much trouble.

Graves: Well, I wanted to So.. Take all you like.

He gives her the plate and they both sit on a couch in his room.

Graves: You look pretty, by the way.

Lana's cheeks blushes a shade of pink and takes a bite out of one of the cookies they talk about home life, their families etc.

Lana: So you have a sister is she out?

Graves: Yeah.. My older sister is in college right now. She's studying to become a teacher as far as I know. Do.. you have any siblings..?

She shakes her head.

Lana: So far its just me and my dad..

she takes a bite out of her cookie Graves noticing her face falter a bit directs to a different more positive question.

Graves: You said.. you want to be a writer.. So, do you, well.. write? Stories.. Or maybe poems?

she nods going to her bag and taking out a journal giving it to him

Lana: here....If I think of something then I write it down

Graves takes the journal. His hands hold it in an almost gentle, respectful way. His face looks at her in a way that says he is curious and interested as he begins to gently flip through the pages of the journal.

Graves: Well.. I suppose the next step.. Is to become a published author. Is that right..?

she nods

Lana: That's the plan....so....I got a question and you don't have to answer it...do you have a girlfriend?

Graves wasn't the type to commit he had a few girlfriends sure but they never lasted more than a month or two

Graves: Well.. I've certainly had my fair share of girlfriends.. But.. I've never found the right one.. Yet. How about you..?

Lana shakes her head honestly Graves is the first guy she talked to that wasn't her dad or a teacher.

Lana: nope...don't have a guy I think they get scared off by me or something

Graves: Nonsense. You're gorgeous, and I'm sure you're amazing. So, there's no way they'd be scared of you they're probably just dumb do you want a boyfriend?

she takes a bite out of the cookie finishing it.

Lana: well....maybe one day I'll have one....it would be nice....I think

Graves": Lana you'll find the right person, I'm sure. Someone who sees how amazing of a person you are inside and out.. and well.. someone who will love you.....you deserve it.

She blushes and kisses Graves on the cheek it stuns him a bit the rain outside going harder hiding his heart beating out of his chest, He lets out a quiet, short chuckle, and tries to compose himself. After a few moments, he looks at her again. His face has soft and warm expression and he leans in kissing her on the lips. They lay on the couch their making out turning into a clumsy love making between teens.

( When the night ended they were cuddled up together, even though this was a budding relationship real life would ruin it, Lana's father decided to move them back to Maine the next week and Graves would soon face deployment. So here we are now several years pass and were in a hotel room with graves and Lana, Graves a harden soldier and Lana a escort.)

Lana: I thought your name looked familiar when you kept calling and requesting for me....I thought it was a cruel joke but...you remember me....you remember that one night we spent together as teens in your house....

His face becomes more serious and calm. His voice becomes soft once more as he speaks.

Graves: I do.. I remember that night...In truth I never forgot it...I never stopped thinking about you Lana...

She walks to him kissing him passionately their tongues dancing together in their mouths, Graves moved his hand down into her panties rubbing her clit gently making Lana moan softly he would whisper in her ear.

Graves: this will be different Lana it wont be like when we were kids inexperienced and dumb I'll make you feel good feel real good. lay on the bed baby spread them pretty legs.

Lana sat on the bed she took off her panties showing Graves her little cunt, he kissed her thighs and leaving little bite marks on them do remind her who she truly belongs to. He inserts a finger inside of her making her throw her head back and moan loudly while he sucks on her clit making circles with his tongue making her bite her lip.

Lana: ph-phillip...fuuck

Graves: Remember to call me Graves lil bunny.

Lana: y-yes Graves...fu-fuck

Graves: good job baby cum on my face

Her eyes wet from the pleasure moans loud enough for the other hotel guests to hear she orgasms making a mess on his face he licks his lips removing his finger from her pussy. Lana sits up her face in front of his crotch putting her teeth on his zipper pulling down, she helps take his briefs down showing his cock she puts a hand on his cock licking the tip of precum.

Graves: ohhh fuck f-finger yourself baby.

While sucking his dick she fingers herself she moans while deepthroating his cock making Graves moan in pleasure he pushes her head down on him making her gag.

Graves: come on baby come on come on oooh fuck yes.

He cums in her mouth he took his member out of her mouth she swallowed his load showing him by sticking her tongue out he puts a hand under her chin putting his thumb on her lips.

Graves: fuck your beautiful

Lana: ph-phillip....

It made her blush Graves took off the rest of his clothes and Lana took the last piece of clothing on her body her bra off as well.

Graves: all fours bunny.

Lana: y-yes sir.

Graves: thats what I like to hear sweetheart.

She on all fours on the bed he gets behind her teasing the head of his cock rubbing it up and down between her folds. He enters her carefully Graves wants to be sure that she never forgets how she feels with him inside her his thrusts hard and slow he leans on her back whispering in her ear.

Graves: You're gonna quit this job...and you're gonna be mine understand? Repeat it for me..your gonna quit being a whore and only be mine.

Lana: y-yes I'll be yours only yours.

Graves: thats what I like to hear...on your back baby

He pulls out of her and she turns and lays her back on the bed he puts his hand on her neck making her head turn to face him he kisses her with passion she returns the kiss with a bite to his bottom lip, He thrusts inside her his pace going faster than last time she wraps her legs around his waist and he kisses and bites her neck.

Graves: fuuuck I dont wanna let you go....not again..

Lana: it feels so fucking go-ood ahh fuck d-dont pull out

Graves: not this t-time fuuuck

In the past he would pull out every time cumming on either her chest her stomach or her face but this time was different he was deep inside her in a mating press thrusting wildly into her. Lana eyes rolling in the back of her head she could barely think much less talk in a coherent sentence.

Lana: ohh-h fuck-kk m-me

Graves: fuuuck baby come on my fucking cock

They were both getting close to their climaxes tears in Lana's eyes her pussy spasmed around his fat dick making a mess he laughed kissing her making her have a second orgasm with his thrusting he came deep inside her he wants to see her with his kids he wants to see her raise them he wants to be with her and only her. He pulls out his sperm leaking out of her he uses his fingers to scoop any leaking cum and put it back into her cunt, making her whimper because of her sensitive womanhood he lays next to her.

Graves: fuck baby you're too good for me.

Lana: I love you Phillip

Graves: I love you too Lana....

He pulls her close to him kissing her ,his hand on her waist it was far from over from the two of them but they just decided to take a small respite just to talk.

Lana: ....are you the reason I dont have other patrons...?

He wraps his arm around her holding her close.

Graves: .....they're no good for you....anyway you quit that job

Lana: oh...thats right huh...

Graves: ill take care of you don't you worry....are you still writing?

She nods kissing him softly her hand caressing his cheek.

Lana: yes....that's why I took this job....the money helps...

Graves: ....I mean it Lana I will take care of you no more worrying about money..no more struggling.. I'm here for you.

He kisses her gently on the lips and she pulls him close to her continuing their lovemaking.

The next morning Graves is holding Lana he hasn't fallen asleep and holds her close, he didn't want this to end it was like a dream but like all dreams reality tends to ruin them.....he hears a notification from his phone and picks it up from the nightstand it's a text message from general Shepherd.

"You're needed in Las Almas to take care of loose ends, they're getting too close to the truth deal with them."

He sighs looking up at the ceiling then at her sleeping body he carefully gets out of bed and gets dressed lucky for him she was a deep sleeper, he kisses her cheek a sad look appeared on his face.

Graves: I'm sorry....I'll be back....I promise Lana....

He walks out of the hotel door careful not to wake her up on his way to another mission his final mission.

The Epilogue of this story

( :) did u like that ending I did.... this is a oneshot since u know he blows up in itty bitty pieces also small note when he dies Lana gets all his money so at least she aint raising the baby he put in her without a dime.)

[deusexlachina]

Wannabe Warden Part 20: Emo Warden Bethany cannot catch a break

At this point, all that I need to do to end the story of Aveline Hawke is to read my mail and then pop over to the delightfully-named Gallows, whereupon the mage-templar whole thing will spiral out of control and lots and lots of people will die. I don't want that, so despite my quest log telling me to read my mail, I simply don't. This makes sense because this story is being narrated by Varric "Never Reads His Mail" Tethras.

"But what about Anders?" you ask. "Isn't he conspiring in the shadows?" Well, dear reader, he can't do that if he's not in Kirkwall. So I take him with me on an adventure. And when I say adventure, I mean Emo Warden Bethany Hawke has been attacked. In her Warden base. Again.

This time I learn that their base is in Ansburg. Ah, yes! Good old Ansburg! I discreetly look up Anburg to see where the fuck this is and you know where it is? In the fucking Free Marches. They took Bethany away from her home in the Free Marches to a Warden base elsewhere in the Free Marches. Could they not have...just let her live in Kirkwall with her family? For that matter, why don't they have a base in Kirkwall? It's got a route to the Deep Roads right there, and if you don't feel like going underground, there's often darkspawn on Sundermount.

"At least the Wardens let me come," says Bethany. Not to Kirkwall, just to the Vimmark Mountains (right next to Kirkwall), to face her attackers head-on. They generously deigned to let Bethany actually defend herself, and they can't even spare any Wardens to come with her, because apparently an assault on their base by an unknown enemy is not Grey Warden Business.

An unknown enemy, I reiterate, that is based in the Vimmark Mountains, which the Wardens should know full well is very much their Business, because (as I will learn later, in approximately fifteen minutes of bothering to investigate) they built a prison there for Corypheus, the most dangerous darkspawn ever. What do they have going on that's more pressing than this? I'm starting to think the Grey Wardens just don't like my family. But why? Unlike nearly everything else about the Grey Wardens, this mystery will be explained. But why they didn't go themselves will not be.

Unlike the official Wardens, Anders bothered to come to help Warden Bethany. Anders has joined Bethany in being an emo Warden. He complains that Meredith could be burning down the Circle of Magi, not realizing that his own actions are the catalyst for her doing so and Kirkwall is objectively safer without him.

Unfortunately, Aveline doesn't know that either, so she cannot stop his plans. But she can accidentally delay them. Accidental heroics are Aveline's bread and butter. (Being a Grey Warden is her jam, so she'll have to go without jam, which is truly a grim fate for any posh British Ferelden girl).

Ostensibly, Bethany's attackers are from the Carta. Technically they are, but they've drunk darkspawn blood and now work for Corypheus, the most dangerous darkspawn ever and apparently not Grey Warden Business. I learn this in a conversation with Gerav, who I also learn (while Anders looks on awkwardly) is Varric's old friend and the original inventor of his crossbow, Bianca. I glean all of this in about two minutes before Gerav tries to kill me and dies just as quickly.

I fight wave after wave of assassins making my way to their boss. Well, really Corypheus is the boss, but this is their more immediate boss. He's darkspawn middle management. A fellow who goes by the name of...Rhattigan!

Rhattigan used to be just a petty crook scurrying around in the sewers like all the other rogues in the Free Marches, but now that he's drunk Corypheus' blood, he is inspired to greater heights - so much so that he has littered his base with deadly traps that can instantly kill any of us.

Varric dutifully narrates to Cassandra all the ways the traps "could've" gotten Aveline & Pals. Aveline could have charged forward only for a blade trap to activate and kill her instantly as it pops out of grooves in the floor that WEREN'T THERE BEFORE IT TRIGGERED AND VARRIC COULDN'T DISARM THEM WHAT BULLSHIT.

Or Aveline could have tried to go around the blade trap only for Anders to follow by her side and step right on the blade trap and die instantly. Or she could have tried to manually corrall her party through the tiny gap between blade traps in an attempt to completely circumvent the blade trap only for all three companions to step right on the blade trap and die instantly.

But, after a gruelling fight that costs me an embarrassing amount of resources, I spring a trap of my own. I manage to get my entire squad up the fucking stairs, which means that his pet Bronto, which he calls Wanka, cannot reach any of us, which is good because I hate Brontos. On the stairs, I methodically wipe out his archers and then - with his allies gone, I have him backed into a corner. Literally.

With Rhattigan dead, it's time to face an ancient evil sealed in the Vimmark Mountains. Not Corypheus, this is another guy. Malvernis. Who's Malvernis? Well. He's. A real bad dude. He devours the living and turns their bodies into slime. And that's...about all anyone knows about him. I make him appear by touching his Pulsing Obelisk with my Warm Orb. He's very dangerous, nearly as hard as the Ancient Rock Wraith which I fought at the end of Act 1.

This fight has three phases: first, you fight a bunch of skeleton archers while he decides not to exist or something. Then he summons more minions and he's a mage. Then he turns into a dragon who can unleash firestorms, which would be very deadly if I hadn't given everyone flameproof runes. Except Bethany, who has no rune slots and thus dies a lot. But it's nothing compared to the TAINT in her VEINS. Even then we'd be wiped out, but I courageously run far away from the dragon and distract him with my long-suffering dog (the little blue circle left alone in the distance) while Anders spams Martyr until he gets his revival off cooldown, and if he dies I use a Mythal's Favour.

I bring people back from the dead so much that I quickly run out of injury kits and elfroot potions and eventually just leave people with next to no hit points, putting them in a vicious cycle where they keep dying more and more until they hit the maximum number of injuries and cannot possibly have less health.

Unfortunately, that was not Corypheus, so I have to go back to Rhattigan's base to uncover the mysteries of the Vimmark Mountains.

[worlds-4th-best-dad]

what made u want to become a policeman?

Heh, well ain't this a funny sight? Just a few weeks ago, I helped conduct a seminar on stranger danger at a local preschool and some of the kids asked the same thing.

Given that you ain't your average five-year-old, I'll fill you in on more details on my road to the force than the sugar-coated one I handed out to them kids.

Well, that's what I would've done if Tumblr hadn't crashed multiple times before I finished it...

And I worked so hard to go into detail too...

Well, anyway, a summarized version it is then.

I really wanted to buy a Gundam model when I was a kid. I earned and saved my allowance into a piggy bank, but it wasn't enough.

I felt cheated and angry so I stole the toy from the store and ran home with it.

I showed it to my mom, who made my dad come over from his paper to see it.

Dad was happy for a bit, before asking questions and ordering me to see the piggy bank.

Dad figured out that I stole it when he felt the bank was full of money and proceeded to beat a lesson into me.

The only reason I didn't get beaten into a fine pulp was my mom breaking the heavy piggy bank over my dad's head and immediately rushing me to the hospital.

Ever since then, my mom was protective of me and my dad slowly distanced himself from us.

His distancing then turned into absences that began with a single day and turning into multiple weeks.

Me and my mom found out that my dad was never coming home when a police officer came over to our house to say that my dad died on the streets.

Apparently, his absences was for his petty theft spree since he lost his job and the money for the family was running dry.

And that's about it. Honestly, looking back on this, I really put a lot of detail in my story that could've been shorter. Can't blame a man from trying, I guess.

Anyway, the important parts of this story that made me want to become a policeman was when my dad beat me till I was black and blue and my mom saving me from entering the Pearly Gates early. I'm sure you understand what I'm trying to tell you at this point, but I'll still say it regardless.

When I was on the floor, bracing my little body from the blows from my dad, that's when I truly felt like my entire world crumbling before me. I felt many things during that harrowing experience. A lot of pain, obviously, but I also felt so small, like I can be blown away in a gust of wind. Yet, I wanted that, an escape from the ruins of my world. To get away from being the poor fool who got caught in the crossfire at the battleground that was once home.

And yet, when I thought I was done for, I heard a smash in the numbing silence and the tinkling of hope. The next thing I knew, the punches stopped and I was being carried off to who knows where before I passed out from the pain.

When I finally woke up from the pain, I was lying in a hospital bed in the Sakurami City General Hospital. My mom wasn't in the room with me, but when I rustled around the bed to get comfortable, she bursted from the door and immediately hugged me, tears in my eyes, and told me that everything was over and no one was going to hurt me anymore.

It was at that moment I knew what I wanted to be. I wanted to be someone like my mom, who risked getting herself beat up to save someone like me, a petty thief in dire need, from people like my dad, who didn't hesitate to become violent at the drop of a hat. After asking my teacher if there was a kind of job like that, they told me that sounds similar to a police officer and the rest was history.

Sorry, for the long story, but I had to get a lot of it out for you to get the full picture.

I hope my answer satisfied your question, Reisuke.

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

0.3 hurricane season

warnings : abusive home life, cussing

word count : 5.8k

0.3 Hurricane Season Comes a Couple Months too Early 

If I were religious, this confessional probably would've hit a little bit harder, but— y'know. It's never too late to repent or whatever the Christians say. 

I completely ditched Grover the second the bus made a complete stop. His bladder acted up every time he got anxious or nervous and this time was no different. He bolted for the bathroom the second he got off the bus.

He made me promise to stay right where I was and he'd be back in a second. But whatever happened, I had to stay there. 

I felt so guilty starting my bike back up. I'd even hoped it would be loud enough to grab his attention and make him come running back out to stop me. But it was New York, and the roar of my engine just blended in with the other loud noises. He didn't come out. So I left. 

He was out of sight and he was just freaking me out too much. And I had just finished a school year, which meant I was less than an hour from seeing my mother. The feeling of needing to see her just became too overbearing. 

A few words about her, just before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she is actually the greatest, most genuinely perfect person I've ever met. Which, by the way, just proves my theory that the best people have to worst luck. It was kinda sad really. Her parents both died in a plane crash when she was five, so she had to move in with her uncle. He didn't really care for her all that much, so she spent more than enough of her life feeling neglected and unwanted. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent highschool working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma. 

The best break she seemed to have ever gotten was meeting my dad. 

I have no memories of him, just this kind of... warm glow, maybe the barest trace of a smile. My mom doesn't like talking about him and she doesn't have any pictures. She said he was rich and important, so for all I know, I could've met him at an A-list party or something without knowing of any relation between us. 

The only problem with that was: no one in Hollywood looked like me, which for the record is funny— because I've met almost too many who would pay every dollar they have in order to do so. I've had many plastic surgeons tell me my face was the most requested one for women who came to them. 

RDJ, who played my father in the MCU as our Tony/Celeste Stark father-daughter duo, had once offered to be my fill-in father, once. I'd only laughed him off, but secretly wouldn't have minded. With how much advice I always asked of him, it was like he filled the roll in, anyway. 

But aside from that, it also isn't an odd thing to say because I look nothing like my mother. Everything to do with my facial structure and features came from my father because my mom's features don't match mine and our hair and eye color are both different. And there is also the even bigger point of: my mother said that he'd needed to go overseas to do whatever he did. So he set sail over the Atlantic and never came back. 

She'd always said he was lost at sea. Never dead, just lost at sea. 

Either way, she worked odd jobs to provide for us, even though I could've done it myself. She always hated it when I spent my money on her, so she didn't let me buy an apartment, at least not one she'd live in, and she didn't let me buy my Harley. She paid for food and everything else because she is a stubborn woman and "doesn't want anyone's charity— not even her daughter's." 

She took night classes to get her high school diploma because she'd gotten pregnant right after what would've been the start of the second semester of her freshman year of college (at least, if everything had gone her way). She couldn't go back to actual high school, so she did it during the night and online. She never complained or got mad, which was kinda crazy, all things considered. I was not an easy child, not by a long shot. 

That, combined with paparazzi always following me around, combined with how awfully I got along with my asshole stepfather, her life was a trainwreck. She'd married Gabe when I was around 5 or 6. He'd been nice the first few seconds we knew him, but quite soon after revealed his true world-class asshole, misogynistic colors. As I grew up, I'd started calling him a range of nicknames, most including curse words that my mother always gave me a dirty look for saying. 

I didn't know if it was just me being superstitious or paranoid or something, but I always felt gross around him. He stared at me like I was a piece of meat or a stack of 100 dollar bills or something. It always made me feel like I needed to take five showers and scrub a layer of skin off of my body. 

Just to add salt to the wound, he smelled awful. Like so bad to the point where I'd have to apply perfume outside of my apartment because it would wear off the second I walked into the same room as him. 

The two of us made my mom's life a living hell, with how much we hated each other and how awfully he treated her. When I get home is a really good example of how our 'step-father, step-daughter' "relationship" worked. 

Our apartment was pretty small, mostly because it was coming from mom's money and not mine. When I needed a fix of seeing my mom, this is where I'd hunker down, but that didn't mean I lived there full-time. I had my own apartment in my name in the Upper East Side, almost too luxurious for a seventeen-year-old, but there were certain pretenses I had to set as "Hollywood's  Shining Star". Plus, I needed a few bones to throw paps whenever they got too close to figuring out my mother's address. The absurdly large amount of rent I paid, in addition to giving me an escape whenever Gabe pissed me off too much, was another way I attempted to save my mother. I'd been used to the business for my whole life, she still didn't understand many of the ways my world worked. 

But even as small as it was, Gabe mostly took over the living room so he could play poker with his buddies, so that always made it seem even smaller. I never knew why he enjoyed playing so often, since the times he won were few and far between. The T.V. blared ESPN, talking about an NFL player who'd hurt his hamstring during practice. I'd hoped my mom would be home, but I doubted it. Stale chips and beer cans were strewn all over the place. Oh, if only the cameras could see me now. 

He hardly looked up from his cigar, but I knew he knew it was me. "Well, there's my darling step-daughter, home from school. I was wondering when you'd make it home. Got any cash stuffed up that bra of yours?"

"No. Is my mom home yet?" I asked, praying he wouldn't actually check. 

He raised a greasy eyebrow. "She's still working. And don't lie to me, I know you love carrying cash around. I'd say you have a few twenty's in there. Maybe even a hundred or two. C'mon sweetheart. Just a little something for your step-daddy. Wouldn't want me to check now would you?"

Fuck. I sighed mentally. He could sniff money out like a goddamn bloodhound, which was funny considering his smell should've masked everything else. He was right though, not that I'd tell him; I did have a few twenties and two hundred dollar bills. And I definitely did not want him checking, considering the only time that happened was when I'd been close to getting sexually assaulted by another dude who came over to play poker with the asshole in front of me. 

I gritted my teeth and pulled out some of the cash that's been there. I slowly counted it in front of him, $280 in total, and used a little sleight of hand to give him only $60. It was a little trick my instructor had taught me a few months prior when I was filming Now You See Me. 

Gabe managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I never knew why he hadn't been fired long before. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. I may have enjoyed a drink or two here or there— a bit of wine at dinners, and a bit of tequila and others at certain parties— but I was never able to stomach beer. Even the smell made me sick. No doubt Games proclivities were to blame. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "little secret." Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out. Again.

"Gabe, the girl just got home. And she makes the money herself. Shouldn't you give her a break?" Eddie, our on-the-older-side-and-mostly-better-than-the-rest-of-Gabe's-asshole-friends building manager said, doing his best to reel Gabe in, to no avail. 

Gabe twisted his face into a frown, making his quadruple chins ripple. "Now why would I do that? She's Hollywood's bitch. She's loaded and I'm her step-father. If anything, I deserve the money she gives me considering I agreed to raise her freakshow self." He threw the money I'd given him to the middle of the table. "Give me my chips. Let's start another round."

I left as soon as the money started getting counted and replaced with chips. I was not in the mood to get screamed at for not giving him the full amount. 

My suitcase had been thrown haphazardly into the hallway, kind of close to where my bedroom door was. I picked it up on my way and once I made it into my room, I tossed it onto my bed. Gabe wanted to use my room as his own personal 'man-cave' while I wasn't in school, but my mother always made sure my door was locked and he wasn't smart enough to break-in. 

Home sweet home, I grumbled in my mind, pulling out the nearest perfume and spraying it generously. Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

But as soon as I thought about that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic— how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me. I felt like someone— something— was looking for me right now, maybe pounding its way up the stairs, growing long, horrible talons. Step by step, almost there—

Then, with one single word, my fears melted away. 

"Allie?" My mom's voice called. 

I felt my whole body immediately relax. My mother could make me feel good just by walking into the room. Her eyes sparkled and changed color in the light. Her smile, as warm as a quilt. She'd gotten a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown hair, but I never thought of her as old. When she looked at me, it was like she was seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe.

"Oh, Allie!" She cried, almost tackling me onto my bed with a hug. "You look so grown up! I can't believe my princess graduated today!"

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples," the way she always did when I came home. My dietician hated it, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. 

We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand over my double dutch braids and demanded to know everything I hadn't called or texted her about. She asked about all the new movies I'd starred in since the beginning of the year and talked a lot about college. She mentioned a few interviews I'd done, and my cover of Vogue that I'd told her about, but hadn't come out yet. All she wanted to talk about was me. Was her baby okay? Was she doing all right?

She'd been in the middle of saying something about Columbia when Gabe interrupted from the other room. "Hey, Sally! How 'bout you make us some bean dip?"

I saw her shoulders sag, just slightly, and I knew she saw my whole body tense. She knew I hated him and she knew how much I wanted to stab him in the eye with a spoon, but she always wanted us to get along. My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to one of the hot actors who'd played as my dad in some of my movies, not this ass.

For her sake, I'd tried to sound super happy about my last year of high school, but in all honesty, it sucked. I suffered from a bad case of senioritis (even though I wasn't really a senior) and I got sexualized and catcalled almost daily. I didn't tell my mom about that, though. I also didn't tell her about Mrs. Dodds or the old ladies. With the usual horrible stuff she read about me on the internet, she didn't need anything to add to her worry. 

"I have a surprise for you!" She said, and she snapped her fingers like she always did once she remembered something she'd forgotten. "We're going to the beach. I want to use the beach house you bought a lot now since, for this moment, you don't have shows or movies to worry about and you won't have to model again for a few more weeks."

I perked up immediately. Our summer beach house was virtually the only thing my mother let me buy with my own money. At least, the only thing that she'd use, too. Her parents used to rent it out until they died, which is where she'd hunkered down when her uncle died. She stayed there for a week to wallow in her misery before she had to rejoin society, lest she blow all her money to stay there. She'd met my dad there, on her last night. She never had the nerve to go back until I was around six, also around the time of her and Gabe's first year of being married. She tried to make it back every year, but it was a large and expensive beach house in the Hamptons, and cost a lot of money to rent out, even for a night. 

By the time I was 12, I had a pretty good understanding of life and why the number in my bank account could actually be a great thing, even if it was accompanied by a countdown for how long it would be until I turned 18. I'd asked Danny to look into buying it out, and low and behold, the woman who owned the property was looking to sell, as she was close to having blown all of the money she'd inherited from her dead Oil-Tycoon husband and didn't feel the need to care for it anymore. She was all too happy to sell it to me. 

But I'd done all of that behind my mother's back and she almost boycotted going that year entirely, before deciding this would be the only thing she'd relent on. She strong armed me into an agreement that I'd never spend so much money on something that had to do with her again, however, and not wanting to see the disappointed look on her face due to not being able to provide me the same luxuries I could provide myself, I relented. She knew how much it meant to me, being able to go to the house every year with her, and since I'd already bought it, there wasn't much else she could do. 

"Uh, when?!" I asked, almost jumping up and down. 

"Once I get packed, we will be ready to go. You already have your suitcase of clothes and things here, so all I need to do is get my stuff ready. I'll take your step-father's car and you can take your Harley."

Quick bit of information: I kinda have a car obsession. So I own many cars, however, they are all stationed at our beach house in East Hampton. I wasn't about to temp Asshole Gabe into wanting to drive my luxury cars. The only vehicle of my own that was always near, was my Harley, which I knew made my mom happy. I tended not to use any of the cars I bought around her, for the same disappointed look reasons. 

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?" 

I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for East Hampton. Then we would get out of here. 

"I was on my way, honey," she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip." 

Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?" 

"Pig," I muttered. "He won't let us go, will he?" 

"Of course he will. He doesn't have control over you anyways," my mother said evenly. I tried to ignore her emphasis on 'you.' "Your step-father is just worried about money. That's all. Besides," she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

"Money," I scoffed under my breath. "I bought the damn house. The only money we spend going is the gas money we use getting there and back." 

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip... it comes out of your clothes budget, right?" 

"Yes, honey," my mother said placatingly, settling her hand on my arm to keep me from pouncing. 

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back?" 

"We'll be very careful." 

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip... And maybe if the girl apologizes for interrupting my poker game." 

Maybe if I cut off your dick with a butter knife, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week. 

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad. 

Why she put up with this guy was beyond me. I cleared my throat quietly, preparing for the intense acting energy I was about to exert. Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather, yellow leather.

"I'm so terribly sorry," I lied, "for interrupting your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe's eyes narrowed and for a moment I doubted my acting and lying skills, but then he rolled his eyes. I guess his tiny brain couldn't detect the intense sarcasm in my voice. 

"Yeah, okay. Whatever," he settled on. He went back to his game. 

"Thank you, Allie. Let me go get ready. Get your helmet and keys and I'll be right back."

She left to go pack and make Gabe his seven-layer dip. 

We were ready to leave an hour later. Gabe watched me roll mine and my mom's suitcases down to his car and kept watching as I got my bike ready. 

He yelled down to me once I finished putting my mom's suitcase in the trunk. "There better not be a single scratch on that car once you bring it back or there'll be hell to pay. I'll have a beer bottle with your name on it waiting. I'm sure it'll love getting broken over your head and I'm sure you remember how that felt last time."

I wasn't going to be driving, but I doubt he cared. It'd be my fault because I was easy to push around and had a lot more money than my mother. He'd find something to blame on me and that beer bottle would connect with my skull at some point. As long as he could hold my mother over my head, he had the upper hand. 

Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on a few different occasions while we were in school. I thought it was a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. 

The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the ass and sent him flying up the stair-case as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out.

Once I saw my mom walking towards me I got on my bike, put my helmet on, and was ready to drive as soon as she'd opened her door. 

Our beach house was very large and sat right on the beach. It was perched right at the end of the neighborhood and was easily the largest house in a couple-mile radius. There was a shitton of rooms, most of which weren't used often, so there would be a few cobwebs if it wasn't taken care of. The beach had white sand, the same shade as my hair and the seas were normally pretty cold. 

So, of course, I loved the place. 

It calmed me down in a way nothing else could. The water hitting my feet made me feel like I could do anything. Like the feeling you get when you walk out of a movie theater and you feel like you could conquer the world, except I don't feel like I'm in a daze. It's quite the opposite, actually. I feel wide awake. 

As we got closer, my mom always seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea. I didn't even have to be in the same car as her to know that. 

We got there at sunset, opened all the windows (well, not all the windows. Mostly the ones in the living room and on the main floor), and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

Should I explain the blue food?

Gabe had once told my mom there was no such thing. They had this fight, which seemed like a really small thing at the time. But ever since, my mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This— along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano— was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, which wasn't shown often, but did remind me that I did get a few things from her. My polite streak was proof of that. 

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

I told her I'd get her a laptop and an editor and a publisher right then and there, but she would hear nothing of it. If she wanted to be an author, it wouldn't be because of her famous daughter. She'd probably use a fake last name so it wouldn't seem like she was leeching off of me. I asked her why she wanted to go the hard route and she smiled and shook her head at me; the 'you'll understand when you're older' went without saying. 

Eventually, I finally got enough nerve to ask about my father, one of the few things that was always on my mind when we were here. My mom's eyes went misty and I almost took the comment back, but I stood my ground. She took two blue jelly beans from the bag. I figured she'd tell me the things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them. 

"He was kind, Allie," she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But he was also gentle. You look exactly like him, it's almost uncanny. If you were to style your hair the same way he did his and had the same physique, you two would be impossible to tell apart. You have his white hair and those pretty green-blue eyes. And you definitely didn't get your height from me." 

That was true. I'd passed my mother in height a while ago. She was very short and petite, and while I did get the petite from her, I was also tall and curvy. 

"I... I wish he could see you now, Allie. He'd be so damn proud."

I was shocked. For one, I'd never heard my mother curse. Ever. And secondly, I couldn't quite decide what was so special about a 16-year-old girl who got sexualized on the internet, in public, and pretty much everywhere else. Sure I'd quickly become one of the highest paid actors and models in the world and just that previous September I released the most streamed album of the year, but what would that really mean in the long run? Hollywood is wishy-washy on the best of days, and fame is fickle. The countdown was nearing on a year and two months. It would only get worse the more I did. The more people who knew my name meant a lot more trouble for me. On dark days, I wondered if the trouble was worth it. 

"Did he... stick around? After I was born, I mean," I asked, trying very hard to keep my voice from cracking. It was close, but I think I did it. 

"He... he came to see you a few times. His work was very serious and he didn't have a lot of time. But he saw you." 

I nodded slowly, taking it in. I guessed that was why I'd remembered something about him. I wasn't about to tell my mother that, though. She was already on the verge of crying as it was. I felt like that would set her over the edge. 

"I was going to ask you... I got offered by Warner Brothers to do another movie. They wouldn't start filming for a while, but they wanted to go ahead and get the cast done. It's filming in Georgia, though. They said they might be able to pull a few strings and move it to New York, but Georgia would be ideal. Would you be okay with that?" 

"I don't know, Allie. There's a lot I need to think about right now. I'd feel better if you didn't leave. You know how worried I get every time you board a plane."

"I know. It's just, this one's... different. I think it would... I really want—"

"You know," my mom said, standing up slowly, "I'm getting a little tired. I think I'm going to turn in for the night. Please don't stay up too late. We can talk in the morning."

I just nodded and my mother left me to my thoughts. The wind picked up a little, and my hair flew from my shoulder to my back. My head fell to my right hand as I tried to rub away the headache that was starting to form. 

I only looked up when I felt someone watching me. I could've sworn it was coming from the ocean, but I didn't stay long enough to figure out if anything was there. I was not trying to be the stupid one in the horror movie. No thanks. I brushed my hair with my fingers as I walked into the house.

That night I had an awful dream, shocker shocker. 

It started with a whole bunch of memories I'd tried to suppress of all the bad things that had happened to me throughout my life. 

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head. 

Before that— a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

And there was one time when I was thirteen and I'd seen a huge lion prowling the edge of a forest we were filming near. I noticed every time the camera would move in its direction, it'd retreat back to the forest and then come back out once the camera moved. Finally, it just leaped away after hours of us filming and no one getting near it. 

Then, the dream changed. 

It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagle's wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuckled somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder.

I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. Both animals lunged at each other and before I could see what happened I woke with a start. 

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. 

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She ran into my room, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane." 

I knew that was crazy. Hurricanes were never seen around here this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end. 

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice— someone yelling, pounding on our front door.

My mother grabbed both of our suitcases and ran to the front door, a floor down from us. I followed her down to the foyer. 

She threw my suitcase to me and slung open the door. 

Grover stood there, out of breath and looking like he needed a seat. However, he looked different. What the fuck...?

"Searching all night," Grover gasped. "What were you thinking?" 

My mother looked at me in terror— not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come

"Allie!" she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing. 

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?" 

I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here, by himself, in the middle of the night. 

My mom looked at me sternly and spoke in a tone she'd never used before: "Allie. Tell me now!" 

I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to Gabe's car, pushing past Grover on her way. She took my suitcase and threw me into the driver's seat. Grover got in the back, while my mom ran to the passenger's side and sat down with my suitcase in her lap. 

She didn't even let me ask a question. She just put the keys in the ignition and said, "drive. Now. I'll tell you where to go. Take a left up here."

Now that we were in the car and I had more things to worry about, I finally processed many things. Grover's muscular disease finally made sense to me. Because he didn't have legs. Well, he did, but they weren't human legs. They were more like farm animal legs, all thrown together with fucking hooves.

*    *    *

previous | next

SERIES M.LIST | MAIN M.LIST | TIPS