#i haven't really talked about solitude on here

[spiritsncrystals]

[The Doll that gracefully weaves between it's own strings commanding them as if he wasn't bound to them] This is Nul. Tatsuya's avatar and ZERO'S closet ally. Acting ever so slightly as an enigma purely for the fun of it only really being known for the flute he plays

Though despite the jokester attitude he does have a stake in it all. He might be famous outside of VR , but even fame does not excuse hurting his family.

(for now i suggest looking at my instagram if you want context i'll try and put the rest of my solitude art on here soon)

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 2)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

@tatumrileyslover @nocturnest @i-keepmyideals @eddiestans-blog here you go!

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It has been exactly six days since Billy dropped you home that Monday after the trip. The following days he never fails to greet you if you cross paths in the hallways. He hasn't ignored you once, even though you haven't called him yet. The truth is, you are terrified of doing so. When you think about dialing his number, two days later, you think it's too soon and you will look desperate, so you put the phone receiver back in its place. At the same time, you keep mulling over his words. 'Call me when you feel like it'. It means you don't have to call him right away, maybe he really means to call him when you feel like it. On Saturday morning, you decide it's the perfect time to call him. Enough time has passed to avoid seeming desperate, but not so much that it seems like you don't want anything to do with him. You need to repay the favor, and even though it's pouring rain outside, you pick up the phone.

After a couple of hours of pondering and racking your brain, you decide to take the risk and go for it. You had written Billy's number down as soon as you got inside, safely on a piece of paper. As the phone rings, you're already regretting your decision, feeling nervous as hell.

“Hello,” a girl's voice answers.

“Oh, um, hello. Is Billy there?”

You definitely didn’t expect a girl to answer. She sounds very young.

“Hold on,” she says, sounding bored. You quickly move the phone away from your ear as she screams Billy’s name.

A few seconds later you hear the rustle of the phone being moved around. “...cking yelling like a banshee. Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N” you say, hoping he remembers your name. It would be weird if that’s the case.

“Hey. What’s up?” he says instead.

You instantly feel relieved. 

“You told me to call you when I wanted. I hope it’s not a bad time.”

“‘Course not,” he says. “You okay?”

“I’m good, thank you. And you?”

“Yeah, same. What you’re doing today?”

“Um, nothing special.” You glance at the window. “The weather is awful. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go grab a bite?” It feels like you’re inviting him on a date. It’s embarrassing. “Since it’s raining.” Now you’re repeating yourself. You’re glad he can’t see you blushing furiously as you keep rambling. “I mean, remember you told me you wanted to see more of Hawkins? I saw the weather and thought about this place. It’s a bit outside of town. If you don’t have anything planned.”

“Yeah, sure. Just need to finish working on some stuff. I can pick you up at seven.”

“Seven is perfect,” you say, your heart still hammering in your chest. “I’ll see you then.”

“See you.”

You change clothes at least three times, unable to decide what to wear. You don't even know why you're making such a big deal out of it—it's not a date, just an outing between friends. Actually, you two aren't even that close. But don't dwell on that too much; what is the reason for your outing, anyway? Originally, it was to show Billy the rest of Hawkins. Dinner is part of that plan, but Benny's Burger isn't one of the places he mentioned, even though it's a bit more isolated. However, that didn't seem to bother him. This time, you decide to bring enough money to pay for both of you. It's the least you can do.

Despite anticipating this moment with secret enthusiasm, seven o'clock arrives faster than you'd like. You leave the house in the pouring rain to find Billy's Camaro idling in front of your trailer, its low rumble cutting through the night. You hurry to open the door and close your umbrella, trying not to let any water into the car. As you settle into the seat and turn to greet him, your breath catches. You try not to look too impressed by the sight of him as you fix your wet hair, but a quick glance is enough to get your heart racing. You’re increasingly convinced that this man has no physical flaws, and that thought destabilizes you. He’s wearing a white tank top under a black leather jacket, with blue jeans that fit like they were tailor-made for him. As he puts his hand on your seat and looks over his shoulder to back up, he manages to keep his cigarette firmly between his fingers, one hand on the steering wheel. You take the opportunity to steal a glance at him. The movement brings him closer, and the scent of his cologne reaches your nostrils, making your skin prickle. His long curls are perfectly styled, reminding you of a lion.

“I didn’t think you’d actually call.” he says as he shifts from reverse to first, heading toward the end of the trailer park. 

“Oh,” you say. “Why is that?”

“Dunno.” he chuckles, his long lashes brushing his cheekbones. “Maybe you were scared of me or something.”

His sentence moves something inside you. "Oh. Not at all,” you say, your voice carrying a hint of determination. You are determined to make him understand that you may be shy, but you are not a fragile little thing. "I'm not scared of you."

“You’re not?” his voice is like a low rumble, it burns through you and sets you on fire.

“Uh-huh.” your mouth feels dry, and you distract yourself by feeling the hot air coming out of the vent with your hands.

“Good.” 

When you walk into Benny's Burger, it's practically deserted. There's just a couple of old gentlemen. From the way they are dressed, they look like fishermen. It looks like they have recently ordered because there is only cutlery and two glasses of beer on their table. Benny Hammond comes to take your order and greets you warmly. He and your dad are good friends, they went to school together here in Hawkins. Billy orders a double burger and a large portion of fries, and you order a steak with a small portion of fries. You were afraid the evening would be punctuated by few words and awkward silences. Billy is not the biggest of talkers, but the feeling of uneasiness quickly vanishes as the night goes on. You tell him about your dad and Benny, recounting how your dad was born and raised in Hawkins. When you tell him about his travels, you linger and talk a lot about California. Billy is curious about what your dad did there for five years. Then you tell him how he went to Jamaica alone and risked his life several times but had a good time. Then Billy tells you how his group of friends in California had been very diverse, two of them being a Jamaican and a Filipino. He tells you how good their mothers' cooking was when he was invited to eat at their house. You are surprised how the conversation always manages to bounce back. 

Half an hour later, Billy has cleared his plate. You, on the other hand, are still struggling to finish your steak, so he finishes it for you. You comment in amazement that he eats like a horse, then immediately apologize, feeling your face flush with embarrassment. Billy laughs and tells you he does weight training five times a week. You feel like saying you've noticed, but luckily manage to stop yourself in time and avoid further embarrassment.

You insist on paying to make up from last time, but Billy refuses categorically. You feel guilty, but his stubbornness prevents you from doing anything else. When you leave the restaurant, it has stopped raining. The smell of rain rises from the asphalt of the car park. As you walk towards the parked Camaro, you cross your arms over your chest, suppressing a shiver. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy take off his jacket.

"No, don't take it off, I'm good, really." you tell him, already knowing what he’s doing.

“Here,” Billy drapes it over your shoulder anyway. The weight of a jacket and the smell of leather envelop you. You try not to show your surprise as his warm hand gently squeezes the back of your neck. “Just wrap it around yourself. Don’t wanna catch a cold.” 

His hand seems to leave an imprint on your skin. You didn’t know you would like his touch so much until now. The sound of zippo rips through the silence and your mind. Billy walks past you, the orange glow of a freshly lit cigarette is the only light in the evening darkness. He opens the driver’s door and bents inside, inserting the keys and fiddling with the radio. You lean your back against the side of the car, enveloped in the warmth of his jacket, still carrying the lingering heat from his body. You breathe through the collar of it, smelling the faint scent of his cologne. 

The gentle guitar strumming of ‘Landslide’ wafts through the air as Billy closes the door, windows down, and leans against the car, beside you. You turn towards him, your eyes dragging over his body covered only by his wifebeater. He takes a drag from his cigarette, the tip of it vibrating until it almost turns red. 

"You’re sure you're not cold?" you ask, daring to be a bit bolder and nudging his shoulder gently.

Billy nudges you back, mumbling around his cigarette. “Hey, I’m a tough guy.”

You softly shake your head at his answer, looking at the trees in front of you, forming a wall of darkness, a trickle of wind shakes them slightly in the breeze. “I love this song,” you say with a soft smile. Then you look at him. “I didn’t know you liked Fleetwood Mac”.

“What did you think I liked?” Billy asks after exhaling the smoke, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

“I don’t know,” you hesitate, hoping he doesn't misinterpret your words. “I thought you were more into metal. Just ‘cause I heard you playing it from your car sometimes.” you hastily add.

Billy hums in acknowledgment. “So you were watching me, huh?”

“No, it’s not that! You just, sometimes the music is very loud.” 

He laughs, and it’s such a pleasant sound. It makes your insides swirl. “S’alright. I do play my music very loud.” he flicks the cigarette on the ground, the glowing ashes extinguishing silently on the wet asphalt. “I listen to metal, yeah, but I like rock in general. Hard rock, folk rock,” he jerks his head to his right where the music comes from. 

You hum thoughtfully, tightening his jacket around you. “That’s nice. I think they’re among my favorite folk rock bands.

“Those guys?”

“Yes.” 

Billy nods his head. “They’re cool, yeah. What else do you like?”

You hum while thinking. “There’s lots. My dad likes all these rock bands, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of others. I picked it up from him. He used to blast them in the house when I was little," you recall with a soft smile. "He's a big fan."

“Well, well, well.” Billy grins in appreciation, his smoldering eyes on you. “Didn’t know little miss was so cool.” 

You let out a small laugh, and put a strand of hair behind your ear with a shake of your head to do something with your hands. You thank the night for hiding how flustered you are. “I just…” 

“What else are you hiding?” he tilts his head toward you, the warming mood bringing him closer than before, his shoulder brushing against yours.

“Not much.” you laugh again, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Huh-huh,” he mumbles playfully, bringing the cigarette to his mouth. 

You switch the conversation on him, to shift the attention from you. “And how did you start listening to rock?” 

Billy initially stays quiet. At a certain point, you’re almost convinced he either didn’t hear you or doesn’t want to answer.

“My mom.” he finally says. You look at him, instantly feeling the shift in his mood. “She listened to all this folk stuff, like Joni Mitchell, Mamas and Papas, Bob Dylan. I remember hearing it play in the house since I was a toddler.” he muses, and for a moment seems lost in the memory, breathes a silent laugh through his nose. “She was a bit of a hippie.”  

You can imagine his mom dancing barefoot in the living room, him mirroring her movement with a smiling chubby face, his bright blue eyes looking up in adoration at her.  

“And my old man didn’t like that part of her one bit,” he says then, his voice turning acidic. He flicks his cigarette again. “You meet someone and expect them to change what they are for you. Kinda makes sense, huh?” 

Something in the way he talks about her suggests to you that her mother is part of his past. You don't know on what level, but surely the whole thing didn't end well. And that's one of the sensitive topics regarding his life in California. 

‘Dreams’ starts playing next, filling the last few seconds of silence. It makes you think about the vinyl of that album you bought in Chicago when you spent part of last summer at your grandparents’. It was the right before your mom left.

"I think it’s kind of cool. It's usually always dads who listen to that music,” you say gently in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, no.” Billy snorts. “Surely not mine. He thinks that’s the Devil’s music. Still into that conservative bullshit.”

“My grandma thinks the same,” you comment. “I had ‘Rumours’ on vinyl before.” you start, referring to the current song’s album. I bought it that summer when I visited them in Chicago. It got damaged shortly after buying it. I still think she broke it on purpose.

“Shit. That sucks.” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. “It’s my favorite one.”

“Do you still have your record player?”

“Yes. I have a few other vinyls too.”

As the two of you continue to talk about music, a topic you didn't think you'd be on the same tune on, the mood returns to a lighter one. Soon later, the rain starts falling again stopping you in the middle of your conversation and you both realize it got late. Billy crushes his unfinished cigarette with his boot and you get in the car.

“Thanks for paying tonight. Again,” you tell him sheepishly once on the drive back home. 

Billy slightly lowers the radio's volume until the guitar strums are just background noise, his eyes fixed on the road. “There’s lots of other ways to make it up to me, but I won’t let you pay. Sorry, sweetheart." 

His tone suggests he's not sorry at all. It almost sounds like it’s out of the question for him. You try to ignore how the nickname makes your heart flutter, refusing to dwell on its meaning.

“But why?” 

“Because,” he chuckles, probably amused by how you seem fixated on the question. “It’s just the way it works.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” you mumble quietly, burying half of your face in his big jacket still wrapped around you and suppressing a shiver. 

“Shit. Does it always rain in this shithole?” he squints his eyes a little bit as he lifts the lever to increase the windshield wiper's speed. The rain is now pelting the car more aggressively. 

“I think it’s because you’re used to California,” you say gently. 

There still are a few droplets of water on his naked arms and shoulders. However, he doesn’t seem to feel cold since he’s not shivering.

“Guess so,” he mutters. 

For the first time, you notice he has a tattoo on his shoulder. It’s a skull smoking a cigarette. You wonder when he got it done, what does it represent? 

Before you can stop, your mouth talks. Your voice is quiet, but it is still audible. “That’s a cool tattoo.”

He turns his head toward you, and for a moment he seems surprised. Then his face settles back into a composed expression, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement. "Yeah, you like it?" he responds casually, you swear his tone betrays a touch of warmth.

“Mh-mh.” you nod, feeling comfortable enough to say what you really think next. “It suits who you are.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle under his breath. “What do you think that is?"

Maybe it’s the relentless thundering of the rain over you, maybe it’s the fact that it’s pitch dark or you’re slowly being accustomed to being around him. You feel a sense of comfort enveloping you. 

“I think… You’re tough on the outside, you always act distant from what surrounds you, like you don’t care about anything and anyone. But deep down, you’re kind-hearted and really gentle.” 

The only sound breaking the silence is the soft hum of the music and the harsh drumming of rain against the car. Your swallow seems thunderously loud in the quiet, but the collar of his jacket offers some solace. Glancing at him, you breathe in the scent of leather and him, focusing on his forearms—robust yet slender—then his hands gripping the steering wheel, long fingers lightly wrapped around it. You wonder what it would feel like to have his arms around you, his hands on your waist, neck, cheeks. Every thump of your heart against your ribcage feels hyper-aware.

“Like, incredibly kind and gentle,” you venture, sensing the weight of your words. It's why you try to cloak yourself in the armor of a rough exterior, a fortress formed by sharp cutting gazes, sharky smiles and skinned knuckles. You want to say more, but it feels too personal, too revealing. You know he wouldn't handle it well. It would make him feel vulnerable, prompting him to close off. You guess he’s hiding some things from himself and the world, afraid it would spill over and flood the fragile sanctuary of his soul. 

Billy chuckles softly, his tone light yet evasive. "You're painting me as a real softie, aren't you?" his words carry a playful edge, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead. His eyes won’t meet yours, though. There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. "Got it last year. The tattoo. Hurt like a bitch."

You notice his subtle attempt to divert the conversation. But you can’t blame him. You went a bit too hard. 

“I want to get one too. Someday,” you murmur. 

“Yeah?” he glances at you.”D’you have something in mind?” 

“Not really…I guess I’d have to think about it.”

“You should. It’s gonna be there forever. Unless you get it lasered off, which is a new thing. And that’s a whole other level of pain.”

Just to make you think about it makes you shiver. “Laser it…?”

“Yeah.”

Getting a tattoo is something you have to ponder for a long time indeed. And you’ve always had a penchant for changing your mind. Getting excited about ideas, projects, and it always seemed to work for a long time until you changed your mind. Or something happened and you consequently changed your vision of things. You’ve always been uncertain. Your life had a penchant for unexpected events and uncertainties as well.

“Maybe getting a tattoo is not for me,” you mumble. “I’m bad at making decisions. I feel like all of my life is going to be like this.”

“What do you mean?”

As the car slows down, you realize you’re already driving on Forrest Hill trail road.  

“I mean…” you sigh, uncertain whether to delve into what’s on your mind and risk exposing yourself. But Billy opened up tonight, so you feel compelled to do the same. It also feels kind of natural. “In my life, things always seem to take unexpected turns. Often in a bad way. I can never know what to expect. And I don’t like that.”

The car comes to a halt, and you find yourselves parked in front of your trailer.

“Well, I could tell you ‘That’s the beauty of it’ or some stupid shit like that. But huh…” he chuckles, shaking his head as he rattles the pack of cigarettes in his palm to extract one. “My life has been a shit show itself. So, I get it.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say softly. That’s all you can say, you can only imagine from the vague piece of information he gave you. 

Billy shrugs as if to brush it off. It’s so natural it looks rehearsed. You wish you could tell him it does matter, that he deserved to have a happy childhood, he deserves a happy life.

“I wish I could at least have a hint. Even if it’s just one piece of information. I don’t like all of this uncertainty,” you continue. You've known Billy long enough to understand he doesn’t appreciate pity, or even anything that remotely seems like pity. “I wish I could see my future. My grandma…” you stop yourself with an embarrassed laugh. “I know this is gonna sound stupid. It’s probably not true anyways. But I’ve always wanted to get my palm read. My grandma used to know how to do it.”

Met with silence, you feel the familiar burn of shame and regret welling up inside you. Why would you say that? He’s probably thinking you’re crazy for believing in this stuff.

“Wanna give it a shot?” 

You turn toward him in surprise. “You know how?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good at it.” he shrugs, putting the pack of cigarettes in the compartment. Then places his cigarette behind his ear. “Come on.” he holds his palm in invitation. You place your hand in his, palm facing up. 

“Alright,” he begins, tracing a line with his fingertip, “This here, is your headline. It’s curved and wavy, which means you’re creative and intuitive. You think outside the box, not afraid to follow your own path.”

You watch his face, his concentration as he reads your lines. “And this one. Huh. Oh yeah. See, your lifeline is strong and deep,” he continues, his voice a low rumble. “That means you’re full of energy, and vitality. You’ve got resilience, no matter what life throws at you.”

He shifts his focus to another line, “An this, here, this is your fate line. Not everyone has one. Suggests you’ve got a purpose, something you’re meant to do, and it’ll shape your life significantly. Basically, your destiny is in your hands.”

His thumb moves lightly over your palm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “Your skin is soft. How's it so soft all the time?” he almost mutters to himself. “Means you’re sensitive, maybe a bit sheltered. Shows you’re not letting anyone in. But it’s not a bad thing, you know what I mean?”

You could listen to his voice forever. It’s like a low melody, resonating deep within you.

“How do you know all this?” you breathe, your eyes studying his face. 

“Told you my mom was a hippie. She was into all of this stuff. Taught me how to do it. Shit”, he chuckles. “...haven’t done that since I was ten probably.”

Finally, he traces the heart line, deep and prominent. “And this,” he says, rubbing his finger across a line that nearly runs the full width of your palm. “is your heart line. It runs deep, straight across. It means you feel things intensely. You love deeply, but you also hurt deeply. See this?” he presses his thumb into the little fleshy space between the first and middle fingers, then meets your eyes. “When it curves outward like this, it means you’re willing to give a lot to the other person. Like, you give all of you.”

You are caught between the urge to look away from him and hold his gaze. His tourmaline eyes are two deep pools in which you swear you can lose yourself.

“I uh, we’ll see about that.” you manage to say. “I haven’t had anything like that before.”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend yet?”

A small laugh escapes your lips at your own embarrassment. His own slightly twitch too. “God, no. I haven't exactly been in the game.”

“So nada, huh?”

One of his thumbs caresses your palm, the other the skin of the inside of your wrist, drawing circles. It sends tingling along your body. A pleasant shiver that makes your whole body aware, a hot sensation in the pit of your stomach, all your nerves rising. You can feel something hanging in the air, a palpable tension, but you also wonder if it's just your imagination running wild. Being inexperienced as you are, perhaps it’s all in your head, and all of this is fueled by the undeniable attraction you feel toward him. Then Billy jerks his chin toward your right.

“Looks like your dad is waiting for you.” 

You follow the direction he’s pointing at. Indeed, the little light outside the trailer is lit. Your dad is peering at the small window on the door, you can see him munching a pickle in the meantime. As you’ve been burned, you quickly retract your hand from his.

You are grateful to your dad for entering the picture and getting you out of this situation. With him looking at both of you, you can do little other than simply greet Billy without a second thought. Had he not been there, you would surely have stumbled over your words.

“Oh, uhm. Sorry about that.” you chew at your bottom lip before looking back at Billy, an apologetic expression on your face. It’s embarrassing. “He was probably worried, he does that when I come back late. Oh,” you suddenly remember you’re still wearing his jacket, so you quickly take it off. “Here. Thank you. I’ll see you at school?”

Billy takes the jacket. “Yeah. See you there. Sleep tight.” 

You want to ask him if another hangout is on the program, but you don’t wanna press too much, so you hurry inside the trailer with your heart a little lighter and a thousand questions. In your bed, you keep replaying the hours spent with him unable to fall asleep. His change of tone and attitude when he talks about his parents lingers in the back of your mind. You don't know his story in depth, but you are increasingly convinced that he and you share more than you think.

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 12: world on fire

word count: 2,256

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Days would pass since Tommy's near brush with death and your ascent from the dark. At first, no one asked where you were, but as the week progressed, Arthur and John were the first to talk to Tommy about it. He could tell—not that his brothers were particularly good at hiding their emotions—that they wondered if you were alright. Finn, who still held onto the little stories you shared, resisted entering the bookshop because, in time, you had nothing to say. He voiced his concern to Tommy, but it would take him another few days to find himself outside the shop, wondering if you were inside.

He reached for the knob, and it jammed. The front door was locked, but Tommy wasn’t one to be deterred by locked doors. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, the sound sharp and commanding.

After a long pause, the door creaked open just enough for you to peer out, your expression immediately hardening.

“What do you want?”

Funny. Those were the first words he spoke to you when he sat across your desk so long ago, and now here he was again. Only this time, you were the one demanding an answer.

Tommy stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence filling the small space. He looked around the place that you always hid away in, and in some part of his mind—the part that also craved solitude among the chaos—understood, and he wished that he had a sanctuary like this of his own.

When he finally looked at you, you avoided his eyes.

“You haven't been back to the betting house. Or the Garrison.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter. You kept your demeanor cold, posture guarded, but he caught the flicker of something in your eyes—sadness, maybe, or frustration. Most likely with him.

“Well, now you know I'm alive,” you said. "Is that all?"

There it was—the uncomfortable silence. But now, you couldn't wait. The longer you waited, the longer he'd be standing in front of you.

Your jaw tightened. “Then I guess, you're just here to take up time.”

Tommy removed his hat and placed it on the counter, hoping to take up as much time to put together a delicate answer for you. “We have unfinished business.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He took a step closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You said gave me my life for my tragedy.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but, still, you said nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Tommy continued, his voice low. “And I realized something.”

Your breath hitched, though you masked it well. “Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He hated this—hated the vulnerability, the uncertainty—but he forced himself to push through.

“You’ve already walked away from me more than once,” he said finally. “And, every time, I let you because of the debt I owe you. I'd rather not make that mistake again—debt or no debt.”

Your posture stiffened, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve got a choice,” he replied, his voice turning sharp. “You can keep weighing everything I do—everything you do—by value. By exchange. A debt for a debt, only giving what is equally worth the other, hiding behind that cold front of yours. Or you can look at me. And tell me, at last, what the fuck it is you really want.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and charged.

You opened your mouth to speak but faltered again, your usual sharp wit replaced by something softer, more uncertain.

Tommy stepped closer, his gaze boring into yours. “I’m not asking for answers tonight. But think about it, y/n. Because one way or another, it will come out—with or without your willingness to say it out loud.”

He turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. As he stepped into the cool night air, Tommy allowed himself the faintest of smiles.

The chessboard had shifted.

Now, it was your move.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The door shut behind him with a soft click, but the sound felt deafening in the silence that followed. You stood frozen, your back still against the counter, arms crossed as though holding yourself together.

You hated how much you hung onto his words until they crept under your skin. You hated that he could say so little and still unravel your carefully constructed defenses.

Your hands clenched into fists. Even as you thought through it all, doubt crept in. You had seen something in his eyes tonight—the same look of fragility—something he probably didn’t even realize he’d let slip. Vulnerability. Maybe even fear.

Your breathing caught at the base of your throat as another thought surfaced, unbidden. It was true. Every time, you were the one who walked away, and next time, he wouldn't let you. The thought alone was daunting, and you spent the next minute convincing yourself that he meant it as a threat. It wasn't though, it was a precarious decision he made on his own. He wouldn't let you walk away again to leave him alone.

The realization sent a chill down your spine. Tommy Shelby wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean. If he’d decided you were worth chasing, worth fighting for, he wouldn’t stop. And if he did stop, that meant he was wrong—you weren't worth it. Both concepts raged on in your head. You wanted to be worth it, but was all of this worth it to you?

Your grip on control slipped for just a moment, and you slammed your hand against the counter in frustration.

Needing someone—it was a terrible feeling, to the point where, long ago, you decided you'd never let yourself need someone again. The anger you felt towards yourself was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the frustration you felt towards Tommy. He was pushing you for an answer you didn't have, or perhaps, it was one he knew you would keep denying.

Wanting someone—there was no line of logic that would make it any better.

Your thoughts spiraled, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. There were bigger things at play.

Why did I save him, you kept asking yourself, what possessed me to go there?

The tip about Tommy replayed in your mind. Something about it hadn’t sat right with you from the beginning, but there was no time to think it through. Why would someone risk passing on information like that? Why to you, specifically? That could have gone to anyone—any of the Blinders would have readily gone to help Tommy if he needed it. So, why did that information fall into your lap?

Kennedy—a wiry fellow with shifty eyes and a devious demeanor. He’d seemed so eager, almost too eager, to help. Back when he was Bedlam's bookie, he was much more naïve, but you offered him a way out, a way to stay out of the line of fire by giving information when Arthur sought it out. So, why would he come back—willingly come back to you?

Bingham.

The name hit you like a lightning bolt. It was suddenly so obvious, too obvious. Bingham set you up. The tip wasn’t to help Tommy. It was to bait you into action, to make you reveal yourself—to show that, now, you had something you couldn't afford to lose. It didn't matter that you told yourself this agreement with Tommy was transactional. A lost investment would stay lost. But to lose Tommy was something else entirely, and you never would have allowed that to way on your conscience if he'd been killed.

You walked straight into it. Bingham knew, once again, that you allowed yourself to care enough to risk your security.

You pushed away from the counter, your heart pounding so violently it sent aches through your veins. If Bingham was watching, if this was all part of some plan, then Tommy’s visit tonight might not have gone unnoticed.

Your jaw clenched as the anger burned through your skin. You’d been a fool to think you could outmaneuver someone like Bingham without consequences. All at once, it was crumbling down at your feet. You could blame Tommy all you wanted, but all of this came down to the decision you made.

You ran to your office, hastily pulling one of the drawers, and reloaded your pistol. If someone was going to act tonight, let them. All you knew was that this wouldn't end well.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Arthur and John Shelby lingered in the shadows, the bookshop just within view. Tommy told them to follow him there, his expression unreadable as he gave the order. Others remained in the car, each more confused than the next.

“She won’t like it,” Arthur muttered, lighting a cigarette. "If she swings a bottle at my head—"

“She doesn’t have to like it,” Tommy replied, his voice cold. “Just make sure she’s not alone. Finn and I will be at the Garrison.”

"You really think something's going to happen?" John asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Tommy didn't explained himself further, but Arthur and John didn’t really need an answer. They’d seen the way Tommy looked at you, even if he refused to admit it. He’d do what he always did—protect what mattered to him, whether or not he said it out loud.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

You stayed behind the counter, eyes darting back and forth between the passing shadows on the street. When the burden finally felt too heavy, you pressed your palms against your eyes, suddenly feeling so foolish at your paranoia. Bingham was too smart, and he already knew where you were. Why wouldn't he show himself? What would turning you mad do for him in the end?

You paced between the shelves of books, revolver at your side. You had to do something to keep your mind preoccupied, or else you really would go crazy. The maddening effects of staying awake for so long would get you first, and the mania would hit later. You were no good to anyone without your mind, but dying was so much more terrifying.

You looked down to the floor just as a shadow passed over the window, cloaking your legs in darkness.

The shot rang loud, piercing the window and into your shoulder. The burn came quickly, the force of the bullet sending you back into one of the shelves. You fired towards the shadow, and the window shattered completely.

The crack of your gun echoed down the street, but the damage was already done. The scent of petrol filled your lungs as it cascaded into your shop through the open window.

The flicker of flames caught your eye, and you turned to see fire licking at the edges of the bookshop’s doorway. Before you could move, a sharp pain erupted in your side. Amidst all of it, you never felt the second shot—the bullet still deep inside.

Your vision blurred, but you held yourself steady against the shelves. Your arm ran cold with the dampness of blood soaking your sleeve.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

“Bloody hell,” Arthur muttered, tossing his cigarette aside when he saw the flames.

John moved quickly, his hand on his gun. He screamed your name, the sound desperately fighting the din of crackling paper and splintering wood.

The car emptied as the two of them rushed toward the bookshop, Arthur cursing under his breath. They reached you just as you stumbled out of the doorway, nearly collapsing on the street.

“Find Tommy—” John commanded to the others as he grabbed your arm to steady you. They scattered in the direction of the Garrison.

“Get her out of here,” Arthur barked, his voice rough with urgency.

You tried to protest, but the pain was overwhelming. You wanted to tell them that your things were on the second floor, but the smoke overtook the street. Before long, everything would be lost.

“We’ll handle it,” Arthur said firmly, shoving you toward John. “Go!”

John half-carried you to the relative safety of an alleyway, his grip firm but careful. “Stay here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You leaned against the wall, breaths shallow. You watched as Arthur disappeared into the chaos, his gun raised, his silhouette outlined by the glow of the flames.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning paper and charred wood. The night was lit up with the flames of the bookshop, a chaotic dance of fire and shadows that seemed to mirror your own inner turmoil. Blood soaked through your coat, warm and sticky. You staggered, leaning heavily on the side of the car as you watched everything be swallowed by light.

Arthur appeared from the smoke, his eyes narrowed and calculating as he took in the sight of your injuries. “Did they shoot you or try to gut you with a pitchfork?”

You managed a weak smile, the pain radiating through you like a live wire. “Gentleman’s choice, I suppose.”

“We need to get her to the Garrison now,” John muttered, his eyes dark with something that wasn’t just irritation.

You didn’t respond, too caught up in trying to stay upright. The effort left you feeling dizzy, the edges of your vision tinged with gray. By now the pain was blinding. John lifted you into the car, and the last you remember feeling before the burn took over again was the feeling of cold air blowing against your cheeks.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM BEYONCÉ'S COWBOY CARTER *  assorted lines from the album, some slightly adapted, adjust as necessary

nothing really ends.

for things to stay the same, they have to change again.

hello, my old friend.

you changed your name, but not the ways you play pretend.

do you hear me?

let me make myself clear.

can you hear me, or do you fear me?

can we stand for something?

now is the time to face the wind.

can you stand me?

this isn't the time to pretend.

they used to say i spoke "too country."

they don't know how hard i had to fight for this.

goodbye to what has been.

you were only waiting for this moment to arise.

i had to leave my home at an early age.

i'm not in my bed.

i gotta choose myself.

i might cook, clean, but still won't fold.

i'm still working on my life, you know.

only god knows.

i got art to make.

i got love to create.

they won't dim my light.

i had to sacrifice and leave my fears behind.

you'll remember me, 'cause we got something to prove.

i will lead you down that road if you lose your way.

i'm born to be a protector.

even though i know someday, you're gonna shine on your own.

i gave water to the soil, and now it feeds me.

there you are, shaded underneath it all.

i feel proud of who i am.

i first saw your face in your father's gaze.

how many times have you let yourself get down?

be fond of your flaws.

i just hope you love yourself like that.

i really hope the best for you.

you're my love, my sweetie pie.

don't let go.

lay your cards down.

i'll be damned if i can't slow dance with you.

don't be a bitch.

there's a heatwave coming at us.

i give you kisses in the backseat.

you make me cry, you make me happy.

just toss it.

they couldn't have me and they never will.

sometimes i hold you closer just to know you're real.

sometimes i take a day off just to turn you on.

i could be your bodyguard.

you should let me ride shotgun.

you know how people like to start shit.

someone better hold me back.

i'm warning you, don't come for my man.

don't take the chance just because you think you can.

the games you play are nothing new.

you don't want no heat with me.

i know my man better than he knows himself.

shoot your shot with someone else.

i'm warning you, woman, find your own man.

i have to have this talk with you.

i really tried to stay cool, but your arrogance disturbed my solitude.

look what you made me do.

if you cross me, i'm just like my father.

you say move a mountain and i'll throw on my boots.

how does it feel to be adored?

think about leaving? hell no.

time moves quickly, and so do i.

i don't need anything.

here's to hoping i'll fall fast asleep tonight.

i need to get through this.

i came here for a reason, but i don't know the purpose.

time heals everything.

i'll be your backseat baby.

been a while since i haven't tried to pull away.

come here, you sexy little thing.

baby, you play too much.

i'm looking super hot.

i'm a fucking animal.

every time you know just what to do.

no one ever got me going quite like you.

girl, i wanna take you home.

they won't be around.

i hope that you know that once i loved you.

history can't be erased.

got you up all night and now you don't wanna leave.

how can a true love go so wrong?

put on a show and make it nasty.

let me sink into your arms.

i died and someone brought me back to life.

i plan to steal your heart again.

who am i to judge?

i will carry on.

baby, i've been waiting my whole life for you.

wherever you wanna go, that's fine with me.

all i see is the best of you.

i'm gonna give you the best years of your life.

you owe me a debt.

i hated you once.

tap me on the shoulder when you reload the gun.

i know they're looking for me.

i fall to pieces each time i see you there.

it don't matter what nobody says.

we can take back roads.

just say what you need from the store.

i'm coming home.

take that shit on the chin.

have mercy on me.

this house was built with blood and bones.

i need to make you proud.

[earthtoharlow]

Flashing Lights

20. Hate The Club

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

series masterlist

“Ok I found her.” Maryse and Doja turned their attention away from the movie and looked at Saweetie who was scrolling on her phone.

“Found who?” Doja questioned.

“The bitch who Jack kissed!” Saweetie exclaimed.

All Maryse could do was sigh, and turn back to the movie they were watching. Jack had been blowing up her phone for days now, and they were left unanswered. She didn’t want to hear the excuses.

Right now, she could hardly muster up the energy to care. Her heart felt like it had been shattered into a million pieces, and the thought of confronting the other girl seemed insignificant in comparison to the pain she was experiencing.

“I don’t care,” Maryse murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she shook her head wearily. “It doesn’t matter.”

Doja & Saweetie looked at each other in concern. They were worried about their friend. They’ve been with Maryse everyday for the past couple days and haven't seen her cry once. It was concerning.

As Maryse sat in the quiet solitude of her thoughts, she found herself replaying the moment she saw Jack kiss another girl over and over again. Each iteration brings with it a fresh wave of anguish and despair.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of disbelief, the nagging sense that somehow, she had been blindsided by the very person she had trusted with her heart.

Fueled by a mix of frustration and anger, Maryse turned to her friends with a determined glint in her eyes. “Hey, do you guys want to hit up the club tonight?” she asked, her voice tinged with defiance. “I need to blow off some steam.”

Doja & Saweetie exchanged surprised glances, taken aback by Maryse’s sudden change in demeanor. After all, Christmas was just around the corner, and most people were gearing up for festive celebrations with family and loved ones. But Maryse couldn’t bring herself to care about holiday cheer—not when her heart felt like it had been shattered into a million irreparable pieces.

Without waiting for their response, Maryse pushed herself to her feet, restless energy coursing through her. She needed to escape the suffocating weight of her memories, to lose herself in the music and drinks, if only for a few fleeting hours.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea…” Saweetie said with worry. Doja nodded in agreement and added “yeah, why don’t we just stay here and finish watching some movies?”

Maryse knew they were right deep down. Drowning in her sorrows at some club was hardly the solution to her problems but in the moment she couldn’t bare to face the truth, couldn’t bring herself to confront the raw pain that was consuming her.

“I just need to get out of my own head for a little while,” Maryse eventually replied, her voice tinged with defiance. “I can’t stay cooped up in here, wallowing in self-pity. I need to feel alive again, I need to forget.”

Doja and Saweetie nodded sympathetically, understanding where their friend was coming from. While Saweetie helps Maryse pick out an outfit, Doja pulls out her phone and hurries to text Urban.

“Hey, we’re going to the club with Maryse and she’s really hurting right now,” the message read, the words flashing across the screen in rapid pace. “We need to get her and Jack back together. Can you talk to him and convince him to come?”

***

Urban looks down at his phone, Doja’s message burning a hole through his phone. He knew that convincing Jack to leave the house would be hard but he knew he had to at least try.

Taking a deep breath, Urban pressed his ear against the door trying to see if he could hear him in the room. He then raised his hand and rapped gently on the wood, the sound echoing through the hallway.

“Hey, man,” Urban began, voice muffled by the barrier between them. “I know you’re going through a tough time right now, but I think it might do you some good to get out of the house for a bit.”

There was a moment of silence, during which Urban held his breath, waiting for a response. Then, to his relief, he heard the click of the door unlocking, followed by the creak of hinges as it swung open.

Jack stood on the other side, his expression guarded as he regarded his friend with wary eyes.

“Maryse will be there.” Urban told him gently, he could see Jack’s eyes light up slightly at the mention of Maryse.

“Okay,” Jack said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

Urban sighed in relief, and offered Jack a small smile, silently hoping that tonight would go well.

***

Maryse plastered a fake smile on her face as she navigated through the crowded club. Everyone at the club looked like they were having a good time but she still felt a hollow emptiness gnawing at her insides.

She had convinced herself that a night out with her friends was just what she needed to forget about the breakup, to drown out the echoes of heartache that haunted her every waking moment. But as the minutes stretched into hours, Maryse found herself growing increasingly weary of the charade.

All she wanted to do was go home, to escape the suffocating weight of her emotions, but she knew that she had to fight through the pain, and pretend that everything was fine.

As Maryse approached the bar to order another drink, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Jack walking through the door with Urban. Anger flared within her, hot and fierce, as she realized that her friends must have been the ones to tell him where she was.

Maryse stormed over to where Doja and Saweetie were gathered, her steps heavy with anger and frustration. As she reached them, her words tumbled out in a rush, fueled by a potent mix of hurt and betrayal.

“How could you do this to me?” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “I trusted you, and you went behind my back and told him where I was. I thought you were supposed to be my friends.”

They recoiled at her accusations, their faces a mask of shock and guilt. But Maryse was too consumed by her anger to notice, too blinded by her pain to see the hurt she was causing.

Jack, seeing all the commotion, approached the group with a look of concern in his eyes. He reached out to touch Maryse arm, his voice soft and soothing as he tried to calm her down.

“M, please.”

Maryse, desperate to push him away, pulled away from Jack’s touch and turned her attention to the nearest guy on the dance floor. She threw herself into the strangers arms, and flirted with him shamelessly.

Jack watched in distress as she danced with the stranger. He knew that she was only doing it to hurt him, to make him jealous, but it still stung to see her with someone else.

Despite feeling discouraged, he ignored the looks from his friends and went to the dark corner of the club, where he still had a good view of Maryse. She didn’t want to be around him but he still cared and worried about her. He was going to stay and make sure she didn’t go home with anyone.

It seemed like hours before it looked like Maryse was ready to go home. He noticed she was stumbling and looking around frantically, looking for someone. She finally caught his eye, and started walking towards him.

Maryse’s vision was clouded by tears and confusion. She reached out for him, her fingers grasping desperately at his shirt.

“Jackman please,” she slurred, her words thick with emotion. “I can’t do this anymore. Take me home, please.”

Jack’s heart ached in his chest at the sight of Maryse’s tear-stained face, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears. Without hesitation, he gathered Maryse into his arms, holding her close.

“I’ve got you. Let’s get you home.” And with that, he carried her out of the club.

As they settled into the car, Maryse was still crying in the passenger seat. She turned to Jack, her face flushed with emotion.

“Why did you kiss that girl?” she choked out, her voice trembling with hurt.

Jack felt a pang of guilt tug at his heart knowing that this wasn’t the right time or place for such conversation. But he also knew that he couldn’t lie to Maryse, not when her heart was breaking before his eyes.

“I didn’t kiss her,” he said softly, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry, Maryse. I never meant to hurt you. I love you more than anything in this world.”

Maryse stayed silent and leaned her head out the window. Jack just sighed and continued driving.

When they finally made it to her apartment, Jack helped Maryse as she stumbled up the steps. When they finally get inside, Jack goes to the bathroom to grab her makeup’s wipes.

He helps Maryse change into her pajamas. Jack gently wipes the makeup off her face, knowing that she would be upset in the morning if she slept in it. Jack’s heart ached at the sight of her tear-stained face, the pain etched in every line and curve. “Can you stay with me tonight? And leave in the morning before I wake up? I don’t want to be alone.” Maryse softly.

“I’ve got you,” Jack murmured softly, his voice calming her. “I’ll take care of you, Maryse. I’ll always be here for you.”

Tears still streaming down her cheeks, Maryse nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Jack.” she murmured, her words choked with emotion. “I just… I don’t know how to make this go away. I want to trust you again, but I can’t stop thinking about… about her.”

Maryse squeezed his hand tightly, seeking comfort. “But I miss you.” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I miss having you next to me at night, feeling your arms around me. And if you asked me to move in with you again, I would say yes this time, without hesitation.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. Jack knew that he had hurt her deeply even though it was a whole misunderstanding and that there were no words he could say to erase the pain.

“I’ll stay with you tonight, M. But in the morning, if that’s what you want, I’ll leave. I’ll give you all the space you need.”

Jack then tucked her into bed, and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. Maryse was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Jack remained awake, his thoughts consumed by the weight of the impending dawn. He knew that when morning came, he would have to honor Maryse's wishes and leave her, despite the ache in his heart.

As he watched her sleep, Jack couldn’t bear the thought of saying goodbye, or walking away from the woman he loved more than life itself.

The light shined through the window Maryse stirred from her sleep, her heart heavy with the weight of the night’s events. With a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes, the memories of the previous evening flooding back with painful clarity.

Turning over, she reached out for Jack, her hand grasping at the empty space where he should have been. Reality crashed down upon her like a wave, and with a choked sob, tears spilled from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks.

Maryse longed for Jack’s warm embrace, but she knew that he was gone, just as she had asked.

***

an: this hurt so much ngl 😢 consider this chapter a season finale!! The next part of this series will be called Don’t Like the Lights and it’ll have a tiny time jump to the Grammys to when CHTKMY and Maryse’s debut album is nominated 🫢!! We finally made it to 2023 y’all 🫶🫶🫶🫶 as always let me know your thoughts or yell at me either is fine 😭

Tag List

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

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[kittyadore]

Hi Hi 👋🏼 can you please do an earth 42 miles x reader when it's Halloween and they go out trick or treating together 💟

halloween

—𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦!42 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴

—𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

—𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵; 1,4𝘬

—𝘢/𝘯; hi lovelies, thank u so much for the request !! i had fun writing this, i really think e!42 miles is a cutie. sum e!1610 miles coming soon hopefully, please leave requests so i know what you guys want to read. also thank u so much for the 140 (i think) likes under my previous post, as its my first ever, it means a lot to me💝����

As October descended upon Brooklyn, whispers of Halloween's approach filled the air. Your eyes sparkled with anticipation, and you couldn't contain your excitement for the upcoming festivities. But Miles, with a furrowed brow, scoffed at the idea, preferring solitude over celebrations.

Undeterred by Miles' grumpiness, you decided to transform his home into a magical realm of Halloween delight. His mother approved of your brilliant ideas, so the boys' opinion couldn't change anything. Armed with a vivid imagination and an overflowing box of decorations, you set out to infuse the flat with the spirit of the season.

While you took your time adorning his bedroom with ghostly figures, cobwebs, and some pumpkins, your boyfriend observed you from a distance, a skeptical expression etched on his face. Despite his reservations, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity as your enthusiasm filled the air.

Subsequently, you transformed the living room into a haunted haven. With Rio's help, you strung orange and black streamers, hung paper bats from the ceiling, and carefully arranged a display of glowing jack-o'-lanterns. Miles' grumpiness wavered as he watched your infectious excitement, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

As the evening came, you turned your attention to cute couple Halloween costumes. You spent hours crafting intricate outfits-a brooding vampire for Miles and a whimsical fairy costume for yourself. Miles grumbled about the discomfort of wearing a costume, but deep down, he couldn't deny the sparkle in your eyes, even though he tried to fight it.

"You're trippin, ma." The boy intervened firmly as he shook his head in disbelief. "I am not wearing that, no way." The sharp tone of his voice struck through your heart, slowly breaking it into pieces. You knew he wasn't the type to participate in adorable couple activities, but you didn't understand why couldn't he spend his time with you, at least during such fascinating time.

"Oh come on, Miles, why not?" You pouted, crossing your arms as you looked at him with a disapproving gaze. You were sure of his opinion, but deep down, you still had some hope, that the captivating season could soften his heart, even the tiniest bit. "It's like you don't love me anymore, Miles. You never do anything fun with me, we barely even spend time together. You're always out doing your 'important work', putting off our plans" You snapped at him, with slight wrath audible in your voice

"I get it, you might not be a fan of all those 'cringy' couple activities, but please, can't you enjoy your time with me for once?" You continued, your gaze shifting from his face to his torso. You could notice the confusion on his face, as you weren't the type to talk to him like this. "But alright, if you don't want to, I can just go out with someone else. You have fun here"

Miles made his way up to his bed, sitting down beside you, letting out a sigh, as he entwined his hands with yours. Staring into his eyes, you could see them filling up with agony, clearly hurt after hearing your truthful speech.

"Look, mami. I'm sorry I haven't given you enough time lately, you know, I just cant explain it. I want to keep you safe" Your boyfriend started the same answer you hear every time you would bring up his job. It was different though, he never really genuinely apologized to you. Sure, a quick 'my bad' or 'i'll do better' usually left his mouth, but you've never heard him say 'i'm sorry'. He put his head down as he continued.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way, you know I'm not happy about me canceling our dates either. I can dress up and go trick-or-treating with you, ma. I hate seeing you like this, I'll do better, princessa."

Miles stole a quick kiss on your lips, then on your forehead as he got up from the bed, reaching over to your Halloween costumes. His lips shifted into a soft smile as he felt a wave of warmth strike through his heart.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you two emerged from his house, you adorned in vibrant fairy costume that shimmered under the moonlight. You fluttered your wings, casting a spell of enchantment that swirled around Miles.

Miles, reluctantly participating, donned a simple costume, a bloodthirsty vampire. Deep down, he couldn't resist your excitement, and a flicker of curiosity ignited within him, as you took the lead.

Hand in hand, you set off into the moonlit streets, where houses were adorned with cobwebs, glowing pumpkins, and haunting decorations. Children, disguised as witches, superheroes, and ghosts, giggled and chattered as they darted from door to door.

You, with your infectious laughter, skipped ahead, your voice like a melody in the night. Miles trailed behind, his grumpy attitude slowly giving way to the passion he hadn't felt in years.

At each house, children eagerly showcased their costumes, their eyes shining with anticipation. Your eyes danced with delight, and your laughter filled the crisp autumn air. Miles, though initially skeptical, found himself chuckling at your excitement, realizing that Halloween held a joy he had long forgotten.

As you continued your journey collecting candy, you arrived at a house unlike any other. It's porch was adorned with shimmering lights, and a melodious tune drifted through the air. You approached, your hand entwined with your boyfriends' and your eyes wide with wonder, and rang the doorbell.

The door creaked open, revealing an elderly man dressed as a magician. With a flourish of his wand, he produced a basket overflowing with candy. As he handed you a treat, he leaned in and whispered, "May the magic of this night bring joy to even the coldest of hearts."

Miles was taken aback by the man's words. Perhaps there was more to Halloween than he had ever realized. A seed of enchantment had been planted within him, sprouting into a newfound appreciation for the night's festivities.

Eager to share this newfound delight, Miles' coldness dissipated like mist in the morning sun. He engaged in playful banter with fellow trick-or-treaters, admiring their costumes and sharing in the joy of the evening.

As the moon reached its zenith, you approached the final house on your route. The porch was transformed into a whimsical wonderland, complete with floating candles and mystical creatures. Your eyes sparkled, and Miles' heart swelled with anticipation.

You knocked on the door, and it swung open to reveal a woman dressed as a fortune teller. Her voice was soft and melodious as she greeted you. Miles exchanged glances with you, feeling as though you had stumbled into a magical realm.

The fortune teller handed you each a small, golden envelope. "Open these when the clock strikes midnight," she whispered, her eyes twinkling with mystery.

With a sense of wonder pulsing through your veins, you and your boyfriend bid the fortune teller farewell. You made your way back home, your pumpkin buckets filled to the brim with sweet treasures.

As the clock neared midnight, you sat on the couch, in the decorated living room. With a hushed countdown, you opened your golden envelopes in unison.

Inside, you discovered handwritten notes, each containing a heartfelt message from the other. Words of love, appreciation, and gratitude spilled from the pages, filling your hearts with warmth.

You and Miles exchanged smiles, your souls intertwined in a magical moment. You realized that the true enchantment of Halloween was not just in the costumes or treats, but in the bonds that were strengthened and the love that was kindled.

As the clock struck midnight, Miles took your hand in his and whispered, "Thank you for showing me the magic of this night, ma. I'm sorry for being so harsh with you and canceling our dates so often. If they are as amazing as this one, it will never happen again." Your eyes shimmered with happiness and you let out a quiet laugh at his words.

Under the moonlit sky, the two of you shared a tender kiss, the magic of the night enveloping you. In that moment, you knew that love, laughter, and the spirit of Halloween would forever illuminate your lives, casting away any shadows of coldness that may try to linger.

[marsbarsfrommars]

truth, justice, and the problem with not telling your friends about your double life

superman; justice league | rated t | complete | 3546 words | clark kent & diana prince & bruce wayne, clark kent & the justice league, clark kent/lois | humour, fluff

summary

“Well, no,” Barry says, “But he also doesn’t call his house ‘The Fortress of Solitude’.” “I do not live in the Fortress,” Clark reiterates for what feels like the umpteenth time.

or, Clark's friend know that being Superman isn't his full-time job, right? Right?

read

under the cut or on ao3 for better formatting

notes

I know I said I'd write more elvar and I'm sure I will at some point bc I love them, but I've started watching smallville and got back into the dc fandom bc of it. my characterisation is based on a mix of the few comics I've read, smallville and other fanfictions so I really hope this isn't too ooc. I don't really know the canon timeline (and I'm not sure dc does either) so I just made something up: bruce, clark and diana met for the first time when bruce was 23 and clark 22, about half a year after clark debuted as superman, two years later they officially founded the jla and the other members joined them over the past year. the plot of this is very silly, but I hope you still enjoy it. happy holidays to everyone who celebrates! title inspired by the quote "I'm here to fight for truth, justice, and the american way." from the 1978 film (that I haven't even watch) as always, english isn't my first language so there might be grammar or spelling mistakes, but spellchek says it's fine so I don't really care as long as it's not unreadable content warnings: absolutely none this time, this is just fluff and humor

  

Clark is honestly having a great week. No world—ending events, no villains trying to kill him personally, and only one ‘you look kinda like Superman’ comment when he took off his glasses in the office. It’s a late Friday afternoon so he’s done with work for the week and can enjoy a lazy evening on the couch with Lois, watching reruns of The Great British Bake Off and commenting on the candidate's work, even though both of them don’t know the first thing about baking. He’ll make something quick and easy for dinner or, better yet, he could fly over to that really great Italian place and get them a nice pizza. Yes, he’ll do that as soon as this meeting is over. Hal has been talking almost uninterrupted for the last few minutes, and at this point Clark isn’t sure if it’s even about work still.

He glances over at Bruce, expecting to see his friend listening attentively and maybe even taking notes, but the man is sitting weirdly still, even for Batman standards. He focuses his enhanced senses on his friend for a moment and, sure enough, The Batman, known among his fellow heroes for his near absolute commitment to the job, is asleep in a League meeting. The white lenses of his cowl hide it well enough, but his even breathing and slowed heartbeat are giving him away to Clark. Clark debates lightly kicking him under the table to wake him up, but then decides against it. Bruce is running a company, being Batman and raising a hyperactive eleven-year-old all at the same time, he needs all the sleep he can get.

Hal is somehow still talking and Clark is sure that, at this point, what the Green Lantern is saying is either very serious and he should have listened intently the whole time instead of spacing out for the last five minutes, or it's deeply, deeply unserious. He decides to tune back in on the conversation and okay, the topic has somewhat strayed from official Justice League business. Hal is seemingly telling Barry and Oliver how he was part of a fraternity and even lived in the frat house for a semester in university, despite never officially signing up. Diana and J’onn are listening intently, the latter with the look of mild horror on his face exclusively reserved for people who didn’t grow up in the States hearing about a fraternity for the first time. Dinah is listening to the tale as well, albeit seeming rather bored and increasingly disgusted every time Hal says the word ‘frat house’. Bruce is undoubtedly still asleep or he would have ended this meeting minutes ago.

Apparently Clark has been staring at Hal a little too intently for a little too long while he was trying to understand what the man was even talking about because now Hal turns to him with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, Kal-El. I totally forgot to explain to you and J’onn what a fraternity is.”

This doesn’t raise any immediate red flags for Clark—which, big mistake. Is it a little odd that Hal thinks he wouldn’t know what a fraternity is? Sure, but Clark doesn’t exactly look like someone who spent a significant amount of his time in university in frat houses (it was twelve minutes in total and he regrets every single one of them), so it’s probably just that.

“I think I have already gathered all the essential facts from your story,” J’onn says before Hal can start his explanation, looking vaguely unenthusiastic at the prospect of hearing more about fraternities and frat parties and whatnot.

“And I’ve been to a frat party before, so no worries,” Clark adds. (Yes, this is about the aforementioned twelve minutes and no, he doesn’t want to elaborate.)

Hal furrows his brow, while the rest of the League, minus Diana, J’onn and Bruce, turn to them with matching questioning looks on their faces. “When did you go to a frat party?”

Now, that is definitely more than a little odd. Since when are his colleagues that interested in minor details about his private life?

“Uh, when I was in university,” Clark responds, still not seeing what the big deal is—which, again, big mistake.

“So, what?” Barry asks. “Did you just look up universities near you and walk into the first frat house you saw or was it, like, by accident?”

Now it’s Clark’s turn to furrow his brow. “No, it was in my first semester at uni and my friend dragged me along to socialise, but we left after a while because it just wasn’t nice.”

“You went to university?” Oliver asks at the same time that Hal says, “I didn’t know you had friends other than us!”

Okay, ouch. That is definitely a little hurtful. He may be a little introverted at times, but he definitely has friends other than the League, and Lois, for that matter. He stares at his friends blankly. “Yes, I went to university and yes, I have friends who aren’t you. Why would you think I didn’t?”

“Well,” Barry starts to say, then pauses and thinks for a moment before he continues. “We’re obviously very happy for you. We were honestly a little worried that you were getting lonely,”—Oliver, Hal and Dinah nod along emphatically at that bit—”It’s just a little unexpected for us with your full-time job being Superman and you living in the Fortress and stuff.”

Pause. What the fuck is happening? Clark considers about a hundred possibilities, ranging from ‘this is all a really weird dream’ to ‘my friends have somehow completely lost it in the five minutes I wasn’t listening’, before he decides that actually, none of this makes sense and the only thing he can even say to all of this is, “What?”

Oliver shoots a confused look at Barry before he picks up where the latter left off. “We’re really not trying to sound ignorant here, we just didn’t think you were very involved in the human world, apart from being Superman of course.”

“It’s not because you’re an alien,” Dinah assures him quickly, “I mean, J’onn is alien too and he has a job and everything, but your home is literally called ‘The Fortress of Solitude’.”

The others are clearly trying to explain this whole thing to him, but Clark just gets more confused with every word they say. He glances over at Diana, a pleading look in his eyes, but she just lightly shakes her head, clearly trying to hold back laughter. Apparently she understands what the hell is going on but won’t tell him. Traitor. Clark decides that, under these circumstances, now would be a good time to wake Bruce and lightly kicks him in the shin under the table. Bruce doesn’t visibly startle, but he glares at Clark with his infamous Bat-glare, which would be a lot more effective if Clark didn’t witness Lois glaring at Lombard in a similar fashion on a weekly basis when he bothered her while she was in the middle of writing an article. He's pretty desensitised to glares of all kinds at this point, thank you very much. Bruce obviously doesn’t say anything, as to not give away to the others that he has, in fact, not been attentively listening but napping for the past twenty minutes.

“I don’t live in the Fortress,” Clark says, since he is obviously on his own in this and that is the only thing he can think of.

“What do you mean?” Hal asks, a look of utter confusion visible on his face.

“I do not live in the Fortress of Solitude,” Clark repeats. “It’s kind of like my base of operations. The place where most of the surviving Kryptonian knowledge and artefacts are stored, but it's not my house or anything. Why would I want to live there anyway? It's in the Arctic and completely made of ice and that's not all that comfortable.”

“But if you don’t live in the Fortress,” Barry says slowly as if he’s piecing together critical information and not inquiring about Clark’s current place of residence, “Where do you live?”

“In my flat in Metropolis.”

Oliver looks completely lost—a sentiment Clark shares. “But how do you pay for that?”

Clark looks at his friends as if they’ve all gone spontaneously mad, which is a theory that sounds more and more realistic with every inane question they ask him. “With my money, which I earn at my job.”

“You’re getting paid to be Superman?” Hal asks, sounding scandalised and at least mildly offended.

“What? Who would even—what?” Up until this point Clark had tried to be polite and answer his colleagues' questions, no matter how strange they are, but this is too far. “Are you, and I say this with the utmost respect, are you all insane?”

Instead of an answer, he receives a round of blank stares.

“If this is a joke, please stop because I clearly don’t get it and, to be honest, I’m starting to get really concerned about you.”

Still no answers, and now Clark is starting to feel like he’s the one losing his mind. This is when Diana finally decides to chime in, and Clark can honestly say that he has never been more grateful for her. “Kal,” she says slowly, looking directly at him, “Is there a possibility you forgot to inform the rest of the League about your civilian identity? Or the fact that you even have one?”

Oh, fuck. This can not be real. This is not happening right now. This is-

“You have a civilian identity?” Oliver interrupts his train of thought in an overly incredulous tone.

“Yes, obviously,” Clark answers. “I didn’t think that was something I had to specifically tell you about. There’s a reason all of us are keeping our civilian lives private, well, all of us except Hal, maybe. But just because I don’t really talk about mine doesn’t mean I don’t have one. Batman doesn’t talk about his either, but I’m pretty sure that none of you are assuming he’s Batman full-time either, right?”

“Well, no,” Barry says, “But he also doesn’t call his house ‘The Fortress of Solitude’.”

“I do not live in the Fortress,” Clark reiterates for what feels like the umpteenth time. “And I’m not Superman full-time, I do have a civilian identity like the rest of you and I’m very sorry for not telling you, but I didn’t think it was something I had to specifically confirm for you.”

“So you really did go to a regular university and live in a normal flat in Metropolis?” Hal asks.

“Oh my God!” Clark throws his head back in exasperation. He is officially no longer having a great week. Next to him, Diana snickers. That’s it, the only League members who are getting holiday presents this year are J’onn and Bruce. Diana is officially off the list. Clark slowly dips his head back down and looks at Barry, Hal, Oliver and Dinah one after the other. “I was raised in Kansas by my parents, they are human and adopted me when I was about one year old, before any of you get any ideas. I went to high school like any other teenager would, and when I was eighteen I got into university on a football scholarship. I finished university a few years ago and now I live and work in Metropolis.”

There are a few moments of merciful silence as his friends process what he just told them, and Clark almost sighs in relief. Almost.

“Could you, uh, define ‘a few years’ a bit more clearly?” Dinah asks, obviously trying to sound tactful and not offend him.

“Yeah, how old are you exactly?” Hal adds, clearly having no such reservations.

“Twenty-six. Give or take a few months because of the adoption.”

“Twenty-six?” Barry shouts at the same time that Dinah buries her head in her hands and murmurs, “Oh God.”

“You’re not twenty-six,” Hal says firmly. “You’re not twenty-six because that would mean I’m a full two years older than you and that simply cannot be true.”

Now, this is just rude. He doesn’t act older than twenty-six, at least in his opinion, and he certainly doesn’t look it.

“Wait,” Diana interjects, “How old did you think he was?”

“I don’t know!” Hal is obviously severely distraught by the fact that Clark is a little younger than him. “Like two-, maybe three hundred years old, how would I know?”

Clark is shocked. Diana bursts out into laughter and even Bruce is struggling to hide his amusement now, the rest of the League wouldn’t notice, but it’s obvious to Clark when he glances over at him. Bruce is definitely off the holiday present list as well. Clark simply can’t hold back anymore. “Three hundred years? Are you kidding me?”

Diana laughs even harder and Clark kicks her under the table, which doesn’t phase her at all. (No, he’s not being childish. Shut up.)

“I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. He probably just assumed you would be older because you’re practically immortal in comparison to some other people here.” This is the first time J’onn speaks up since the beginning of this conversation, and Clark is so very grateful for it. He knows that J’onn isn’t actively using his telepathy to read the team’s minds, but he’s never sure how much the man subconsciously picks up on. It is, however, evident that he picked up enough to know that Clark has a civilian identity. Or maybe he just has the common sense the rest of their friends seem to have misplaced, who’s to say? Clark nods weakly at him in thanks. He is so ready for this conversation to be over. All he wants to do is go home and not tell Lois about this incident when she asks him how the meeting went because he knows she would never let him live it down.

“We’re so sorry about this. This is a pretty stupid misunderstanding and we shouldn’t have made assumptions about your private life,” Dinah says because she’s a normal, sensible person, unlike the rest of his so-called friends.

“It’s fine, really,” Clark assures her. “I’m not mad, just…surprised, is a good word for it, I think, about some of your assumptions. But since it’s all cleared up now, I think it would be a good idea for all of us to end this meeting here and go home. Unless there are any other burning questions?”

While the rest of the League seems to have heard what he said, they don’t look like they will be answering him any time soon. The traitorous traitors Bruce and Diana are too busy trying not to start laughing (again) and Hal, Barry and Oliver are apparently still processing the fact that he has a life outside the Justice League and being Superman. Clark is seriously considering just getting up and leaving at this point, which would be a very rude thing to do to his friends and he knows his mum would be scolding him for it if she knew, but it’s not like they’re going to get anything productive done and the meeting should have ended at least twenty minutes ago anyway.

Then Barry shakes his head and—God help Clark—starts to speak again, “Dinah’s right. It’s just all very surreal right now. I mean, up until now we thought being Superman was what you did all day and now we find out you went to high school and uni and have a flat and a job and everything. Next, you’ll be telling us you’re actively dating or something.”

(If Clark had a time machine this would be the moment he’d travel back to later and shut himself up because Barry was clearly joking, not asking a question, and he doesn’t need to say anything in response. He just needs to nod, smile, say goodbye, get up, leave and never ever bring this situation up again. Of course this isn’t what he does, though.)

“I’m married, actually.” Shit. He didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t mean to say that at all.

“Married? You’re married?” Hal’s voice has risen at least three octaves in tone.

As his only normal friends, J’onn smiles warmly and gives him a double thumbs up (?) and Dinah rolls her eyes and mouths ‘sorry’ at him before she says, “I’m very happy for you. Congratulations.”

Clark smiles warmly at both of them, trying his best to not let his smile look too strained. This has all been a bit much.

“I can’t believe it,” Oliver mutters, because apparently the universe has condemned Clark to eternal suffering via awkward situations and annoying friends, but before he can even say anything to that, Oliver turns away from him to point an accusing finger at Bruce. “Did you know about this?”

This isn’t that bad, Clark thinks, Bruce always acts very serious in the presence of the whole League and he surely won’t contribute anything to this conversation. This is fine. But Bruce smirks and Clark can feel the horror rising in his chest like a physical thing when his friend says, “I was at the wedding. As his best man.”

All hell breaks loose at Bruce’s admission because of course it does. Barry gasps, a full on overdramatic, broadway-worthy gasp, while Hal looks like someone just punched him in the face and Oliver is staring at Bruce with the most unamused expression Clark has ever seen on him. Diana starts laughing so hard she’s crying, and Bruce looks like holding back his own laughter is causing him physical pain. (He manages it though because God forbid the Justice League ever sees him as anything other than the overly serious Dark Knight.) Clark has no idea what Dinah or J’onn are doing, he’s too busy regretting every single decision he has ever made that led him to this point.

“Okay, please calm down everyone,” Clark says and miraculously they actually do. “I am not angry at you,” he reassures them again, “But I do think you’re overreacting a little.” He would say more than that, but he really just wants the conversation to end and never be brought up again.

“A little is a bit of an understatement,” Bruce mutters under his breath. Clark shoots him a dirty look because Bruce could’ve at least helped him end this sooner. Bruce smirks at him ever so briefly. Clark rolls his eyes. “While this seems to have been very enlightening for some of you, I suggest we end this meeting now. Unless there’s an emergency, we’ll see each other next week. Diana, Kal and I will schedule something.”

And with that, the meeting finally comes to an end. Clark has never been more thankful for anything in his life. (A blatant lie.) The general commotion at the end of every meeting starts with everyone getting up and saying their goodbyes. Normally, Clark would stay behind to chat and catch up on their personal lives with Diana and Bruce, but today he’s getting out of here as fast as possible and polite. He’s almost at the door when Bruce, in front of everyone, calls out to him, “Enjoy the next episode of The Bake Off! The season 5 finale is especially good!”

Clark is going to murder him. He’ll do it, really. “One more word from you and I’ll get your son a drum set for Christmas.”

Everyone’s attention immediately shifts to Bruce, who looks absolutely mortified and rushes out of the door with a hurried ‘see you next week’. Clark follows him, leaving a confused Justice League—minus Diana and J’onn—in their wake. He can hear Barry say that the last part was surely a joke and everyone else agreeing emphatically. Apparently, the one thing more unbelievable than Clark being married is Batman being a father. If only they knew.

“Just so you know,” Bruce says as they’re walking side by side, “If you actually get Dick a drum set for Christmas, I will be repaying the favour as soon as you and Lois have children. Don’t think I won’t.”

Clark throws his head back and laughs loudly. “Then I hope you’re patient because Lois and I aren’t even thinking about having children at the moment and when we do it’s still going to be some time before they can even hold a drumstick.”

“It's a good thing then that there’s an abundance of noisy light-up toys I could buy for a baby out there.”

Clark groans.

“What do you think about a Furby? They’re nice, aren’t they?” Bruce says with a mock contemplative expression on his face.

“I’m taking your name off the potential godparent list as soon as I get home,” Clark threatens, although he’s not serious at all.

Now it’s Bruce's turn to laugh. He pats Clark’s shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. Just know that I’ll tell Lois that the League honestly thought you didn’t have a normal life and that you were three hundred years old the next time I see her.”

Clark punches him in the arm. Bruce laughs even louder.

[idalynsskyrimdiaries]

Talking about Taliesin ✨️🗡

Now I haven't fully played out the new update for our favorite charming mer, I'm getting there (new PC has not arrived yet)! I just wanted to ramble a bit about him hehe

I love him! His voice is stellar, and he's very funny! Definitely enjoyed spamming clips of him to my equally as ecstatic (and thirsty) closest friend. Now, that being said...

Me and my friend are completely polarized in our approach to Taliesin. While they want to just shove a wedding ring on his finger, I just wanna fight him 😭

And then shove a wedding ring on his finger! 😃

Here are examples as to why I should have DB characters NOT based on myself:

[Keep in mind I do not have the direct quotes memorized. Bear with me 🙇‍♀️]

__________________

*First encounter near the Falkreath Talos shrine*

"Listen here, you little worm, I survived the Great War! I can survive a simple knife wound. I hope."

Me: *looking around* Oh, he's talking to you, right? *looks over at dead body* He's talking to you like that, right? Because I can't find the person who he just called a 'little worm' while he's bleeding out... Oh, he's talking to me? Really? Ah, I see. Time to finish the job. *pulls out mallet*

__________________

*After Taliesin rambles on about Haskill*

"I've said too much. I'll have to kill you now."

Me: *slowly looks over at the river nearby* The water over there looks so nice! Maybe we can take a dip for a little while! Oh, you can't swim? Ah, I see, I see. Nice to know. Nice to know...

__________________

*Made the mistake of asking him to rest in a freshly purchased Tundra Homestead*

"Is THIS where you live? When was the last time you cleaned this place?!"

Me: I LITERALLY JUST BOUGHT THIS HOUSE. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!? We didn't even breathe in the air of this place yet, and you're saying it's dirty! If it's that bad, then be a good housewife and sweep the floor!

__________________

*Within foggy areas*

"Don't run too far ahead, I'd hate to lose you in this fog."

Me: *runs faster out of spite* I saw a bear!

__________________

*When Taliesin ran straight into my character without stopping during a crypt exploration*

"You're in MY personal space!"

Me: ... Listen here, Jaundiced Loki. What you are NOT going to do is gaslight me! You ran straight into me like a horse, and you're not small, so that H U R T! Stop shoving yourself into me! My back can take so much stress..! *realized how the last part sounded* Wait, no, not like that-

__________________

*Near the hot springs in Eastmarch*

"Can we please stop by the hot springs? My body aches from carrying your burdens."

Me: *has only given him a few potions to carry* ... You know what, yeah! You can take a nice little break, even take a nap! I'll definitely be by your side when you wake up! I am totally not going to be in Solitude drinking with cute mer who don't drive me insane!

__________________

I swear I love him, I truly do, I just want to fight him one good time to get it out of my system. I don't care if I get my ass handed to me. Just let me climb him like a tree so I can yell "TIMBER!" when he falls down

May make another post like this because there are more moments like this 🤣

[alexsoenomel]

Take Me Back To Eden (Joel Miller x f!Reader smut/fluff/angst?)

Summary: “Let me know if you ever come back to Austin,” – was the last thing he told you, and after losing your parents in a car accident you did just that.

Pairing: Joel x f!Reader

Warnings: oh boy here we go: 18+ MINORS DNI, big ol' age gap (Reader is 27 andJoel is 50), mentions of death, grief, if you squint reader has ADHD, unhappy relationship, oral female and male receiving, dick in vagina and all that jazz, pet names like darlin' and baby and I think that's all...

Word count: 9.3k

Note: So, I was sad and had a really hard time coping with life during my exams. So instead of going outside or studying I created this.

Song: Take Me Back to Eden by Sleep Token

Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

Everything was going in your favor. You graduated from Austin Community College with honors, found a job as an assistant in a law firm, and had a man by your side – everything by the book. You were renting a small loft in The Big Apple, planning your future – you were enjoying life. 

It wasn’t until you got a call from an unknown number. It wasn’t until you answered with a hallo that your life flipped upside down. Your parents – your support, your guardians – got into a fatal car accident when a reckless driver crashed into them, and your dad lost control of the wheel. The car ended up crashing into a tree and both of them died in a matter of minutes. Someone stopped the time that day. Nothing seemed to be real anymore. You were in haze and not the purple one.  It was the weekend, Saturday or Sunday, you had no clue, you only knew it was the day both you and your boyfriend were off; sitting in the comfort of your home having a Lord of the Rings marathon. The scream you let out that day, you didn't remember – your boyfriend did and he thought it was gut-wrenching. The immense grief taking over your body that day took a toll on your body. Your heart was hurting, your head was pulsating and your stomach was starving but your mouth refused to accept food. 

Your boyfriend tried to be there for you, to talk to you, even though no words could subside the loss you felt, he tried to hug you, but you refused to be touched and so two days after you got the devastating news, your relationship fell apart. You were fighting too much. He seemed deaf; you were trying to tell him that you needed solitude and he seemed to be wearing headphones. 

On the third day, he packed his bags and on the fourth he left to stay with a friend. He kissed you on the forehead and told you; you were going to work this out, but you knew it was over. It wasn't like the love you read in the books; it was boring and uneventful. You felt like something was missing. Boy meets girl, they date, fall in love, start living together and then marry. When you found the damn ring in his underwear drawer your heart sank – you knew you weren't ready for that; you didn't want that. The loss made you snap and you ended it.

You were left in an empty space, lying on the bed, trying to see the point of this life you lived. You didn't see it that day.

On the fifth day, you finally got the strength to book a one-way ticket to Austin. Your aunt from your dad's side called you to discuss funeral arrangements and your heart sank even lower thinking about burying both of your parents. This all seemed like a fever dream.

On the sixth day, you packed everything you could in one suitcase and left New York. You decided to take some time off aka got fired, since you didn't bother to show up for work, and grieve. The good thing was you had some savings in your bank account since you and now ex were talking about buying a home – or at least he was.

Thank God that ain't happening. 

You thought and closed the door, heading to the airport. 

***

You haven't been back home ever since you graduated college five years ago. Your parents would always come to New York since they both loved the city and as your mom used to say Christmas in New York City was always a fairytale.

Austin was a lot different than New York City– hot and humid, quieter, and not so chaotic. Your aunt was waiting for you at the airport with open arms and for the first time in six days, you felt like you needed it. You accepted her warm hug and as soon as you placed your chin on her shoulder you cried and cried and cried…

"It's okay. Let it out." You heard her say as she tried to squeeze the pain away with a tight hug. 

***

The funeral was painful. Your parents were good, hard-working people, loved by many so a lot of people came to pay their respects. You shook hands with people and listen to the same two sentences over and over again wanting to jump out of your skin:

I'm so sorry for your loss.

My condolences. 

Your parents were supposed to be here. It was too early. 

Tears just kept coming and thank God your aunt gave you a big pair of black sunglasses to hide your swollen face. 

"Your folks were good people," you heard a man say as he shook your hand. By the accent you knew he was a local. And by the sound of his voice you knew you knew him.

You looked up to see a familiar face. Joel Miller – the man across the street from the house you grew up in.

Your voice was mute as you shook his hand, not being able to look at him anymore.

****

After they were laid to rest it hit you; you couldn't just rot away in your own grief, instead you had to try and live your "new normal" – whatever that meant. You told your family you needed some alone time. Your uncle offered to stay with you in the house but you declined, saying you needed to grieve in private. 

"But I don't want you alone in that house," he told you. That man was always so sweet and caring. Since he didn't have kids of his own; you were the daughter he never had. 

Mom has a great big brother.

"You remember when that boy broke up with me when I was 16 sayin' he's too embarrassed to go outside with me?" You asked him, wiping your tears from your right cheek. "And I didn't leave my room for two days?"

"I remember that bastard," he said, almost angrily. 

"I'll be okay. I need some time alone."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure," you said and kissed his cheek. "I'll call you if I need company, okay?"

"Okay."

***

The house felt hollow and eerie as soon as you turned the key and stepped in. The air wasn't stale yet and the TV was off which was a rarity since your dad loved watching the news, while your mom loved sitting next to him reading a good romance novel. The house was spotless, with no dust in sight, since your mom enjoyed cleaning and listening to music every weekend. She loved the smell of a clean and polished home. You couldn't bring yourself to go to their room, a lump in your throat formed when you stood in front of their bedroom door. 

You grew up in that house, you had many memories engraved in the walls and wooden furniture there. Your heart would ache every time you would see a small scratch or a stain on your walls.  Those were all the memories of your happy and innocent childhood the house kept and refused to let go of. From food stains to scratches from tossing toys whenever you had a temper tantrum…Your father refused to repaint the house, saying even though you were at times an insufferable kid, those years were the best years of his life. You haven't set foot in that house for five years but it was still a place you would call home. Family photos all over the walls, cherished moments captured with your dad's camera throughout the years…your home.

The first day in that house you spend on the couch watching a movie on dad's TV. Your fingers felt heavy as you pressed the button on the remote. There was a blanket right next to you; your mom's blue blanket she would use to cover herself on a cold winter's day while getting lost in her book. Even though it was June and burning hot; your body was cold. Your soul was too sad to warm you up; you had to use your mom's blanket. It still smelled like her; a mixture of lavender – her favorite detergent and vanilla – her favorite perfume. Inhaling that smell was almost painful but it brought a wave of comfort. She was still in the house. 

You didn't eat that day after the funeral; instead, you fell asleep with the TV on. 

The second day seemed a lot better. You went to buy some groceries, made yourself a nice breakfast of sunny side-up eggs and bacon, and went to see the state of your backyard. It was freshly cut and green like always. Your dad liked taking care of the yard and making sure the grass was evenly cut and watered. 

I miss you. 

It wasn't until lunchtime that you started crying again when you glanced at the picture on your living room wall of your parents smiling with birthday caps on having a toast with Joel. You remembered that picture because you took it. It was your dad's birthday and he decided to have a BBQ in his beloved backyard. 

You were sitting on the floor, looking at the picture in your hands as a sharp pain went through your chest, tears falling uncontrollably.

Why them?

Only when you noticed how grumpy and ridiculous Joel looked with his cap on a small chuckle escaped your lips.

Joel Miller.

Your favorite neighbor and guitar teacher during your college days. Every weekend you would look forward to spending some time with Mr. Miller while learning the magic of an acoustic guitar. It had been your dream to learn how to play and since your dad loved you with all his heart, he wanted to make that happen for you, so he asked Joel. Joel enjoyed teaching you, especially since you knew a lot about "old people's music" as he would call it.

Soon after you saved up and bought your very first acoustic guitar and started practicing almost every day after classes.

Once you moved to New York, you stopped playing. That city tended to either inspire or destroy someone's creativity and in your case, it completely killed the love you had for playing. Once you started working the guitar only collected dust in your little loft. You didn't have an answer why it just did…

******

Five years ago.

"Why New York?" He asked you after you finished your last guitar session. Well, it wasn't a guitar lesson, since you now knew how to play, you spent that day practicing Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple on his porch.

"I don't like living here."

"Why?" 

"Too hot and too many conservatives."

Joel chuckled at your comment. "I agree with ya on that one darlin' but why New York City?" 

"I always wanted to go there. Never got a chance," you blushed, giving him a short answer.

Darlin' – you always loved when he called you that.

“Are you plannin' on comin’ back?”

“Hmmm, not really.” If only you knew…

"Well, let me know if you do come back. We can catch up and play together again."

"Will do, Joel."

He was dreamy. A man of few words and ridiculously handsome. Your little crush –Joel Miller the guitar teacher.

****

Your eyes were puffy and red from crying. You didn't even realize you were hugging the framed picture like your life depended on it. 

Numb. Numb was the feeling. 

This is not fair.

***

The next day you remembered what Joel told you – to let him know when you're back. He saw you at the funeral but it wasn't the appropriate time to catch up obviously. 

It was the first time since you landed you had three meals. For breakfast, a sandwich, for lunch noodles and you were about to have ice cream for dinner because you were craving something cold on a hot summer evening. You were doing somewhat okay, you cried once, under the shower that you used the first time on that particular day. As you were eating ice cream, Joel's words lingered in your mind again.

As much as you loved solitude, you were starting to crave company again. Your own thoughts were starting to suffocate you. 

Your family was great, on both sides, but you knew they would only feel sorry for you and tried their best to make you feel better; which wasn't possible. You just wanted to talk to someone and maybe have a drink or two.

You picked up your phone only to see 10 unread messages and 5 missed calls from your ex. You didn't even bother to open the texts, instead, you found Joel's number under the name Mr.Handsome and started typing…

Hey, I know it’s been like 5 years but you told me to let you know if I ever come back to Austin. The circumstances are shit but I figured to let you know I’ll be here for a while. And thank you for coming to the funeral, Joel. 

After a minute your screen lit up.

Your folks were great people like I told you. How you holdin up?

Better than few days ago. I took a shower today. Yay!

That's somethin. I figured you wanted to be alone after the I'm sorrys and condolences. 

You both dealt with your shit in private. He knew that since your dad would always tell him how you didn't want to talk to him every time you were dealing with something. Joel would just tell him to leave you be, since he was also the same and his daughter Sarah was just like him but only less intimidating.

Do you wanna come over to catch up? Human interaction seems nice today and I have alcohol.

For some odd reason, you felt a strange sensation in the bottom of your stomach. Nervousness? Why? 

I'm still at work. I can come after 10? 

Sure. You in the mood for whiskey after work? My father has a nice bottle he refused to open. 

Always in the mood for whiskey.

Perfect. See ya later!

He came at around 10:30 pm. When you opened the door you were greeted by a tall man in a green flannel, with soft brown eyes looking at you. Mr. Handsome. Your heart started racing but you ignored it.

"Hey!" You said and let him in. "Long time no see!"

"Long time no see!" 

Once he stepped into the light of your living room, you noticed his hair filled with even more grays than you remembered five years ago.

You wondered if it was once black like charcoal. His beard was also lighter and grayer.

He was still handsome, maybe even too handsome now. 

You went to the kitchen to get your dad’s prized possession, it was still sitting in the same spot in the pantry on the top shelf, collecting dust. Hillrock Solera Aged Bourbon Whiskey – a mouthful.

“How do you take your poison?” You asked as you put two glasses on the kitchen counter. Joel sat right in front of you. 

“Neat.” He said. 

His was neat and yours was with rocks. You made a toast in silence and took your first sips. It was strong but smooth and tasted like it took a small fortune out of your dad's wallet. It burned your throat but in a way no drink has ever done – it was a pleasant rich burn. 

“Why he didn’t wanna open it? It’s a good fuckin’ whiskey.” Joel asked you looking at the liquid gold. 

“He wanted to open it on my wedding day.”

“I’m guessin’ there’s no wedding.” 

“Not a fuckin’ chance.” You laughed. “I never told him I don’t wanna get married.” 

You were craving interaction but didn’t know what to say, what to add. The silence in the air was pleasant, felt like a warm hug in his presence. He was enjoying it just as much. 

“So Joel…” – you said finally – “What happened in your life during these past five years?” 

He finished his first glass and you immediately poured another one. 

“Same ol’ same ol’. Still working as a contractor.”

“How’s Sarah?” 

“All grown up in college. Studying agriculture in Nebraska.” 

You remembered his daughter fondly. She loved to hang out with your family. Your cousins would always tell you how pretty and smart she was. She was like family. 

“They grow up so fast, I swear.” You said taking another sip. 

***

The night was passing by quicker than you expected. Time wasn’t suffocating you and for a few hours, life seemed normal. Joel told you about his bar adventures and how he managed to get kicked out of multiple bars in the last year alone because of his short fuse. 

“You don’t seem like the violent type though.”

“Oh trust me darlin’ I can be when a fuckin’ moron tries to start an argument over stupid shit.”

Darlin’

You haven’t heard that one in a long time. He turned back time for a few seconds, as old butterflies started creeping into your stomach. 

After two glasses you started feeling tipsy so you decided to continue your drinking endeavors in the living room on the couch. Joel was sitting right next to you watching you as you poured your third glass. “How’s your love life?” You asked, not thinking this one through. Joel's eyebrows frowned as he gave you a half smile.

“Doesn’t exist.”

He never liked talking about his love life and past relationships, hell, you have never seen him with a woman next to him holding her hand. It was hard to picture him with someone since he was always just Joel. After Sarah’s mom he never fully recovered – or that was what you thought. Your speculations were always off when it came to people but you liked to think he never truly had gotten over Sarah’s mom. 

Now you were sitting there, cheeks burning, alcohol running through you as you wanted to hear one question: “What about you?”

A drunken man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, but your words were too shy to come out. You wanted to let him know you were single, a desire buried so deep you forgot you had it. 

“What about you?” He asked. YES!

“I broke up with my ex when I got the news.” You confessed. “ Their death just pulled the inevitable trigger, I guess.” 

 “Even though that sounds kinda poetic, why was there a trigger in the first place?”

You swallowed nervously before taking another sip of whiskey. You never said those words out loud, you never dared to admit to yourself what was happening behind closed doors. You wanted to do everything by the book; make your parents proud; only to suffer in silence as a result.

“I wasn’t happy.” You felt a sense of freedom saying those words. Freedom, freedom, freedom…

Joel gave you a look of understanding, his soft eyes fixed on yours, sharing this intimate moment with you. 

“If you ain’t happy then what’s the point?” 

“Exactly, and I was stupid enough to think it mattered to my parents even though they never pressured me into”– you raised your two fingers to make quotation marks – “doing everything by the book.” 

“What you mean…marriage?” 

“Yeah, and this law degree I have, this job back in New York which I don't have anymore…I don't want that.” You confessed, putting your soul back together. Verbalizing it was validating and therapeutic. Joel just sat in silence and listened carefully knowing exactly what you were talking about. He was in the same boat once, lost and stuck in one place right before Sarah was born. He realized he needed to get his shit together – for her and his family. 

“What do you wanna do?” He asked genuinely curious. 

“I wanna play again and make music.” 

He wasn’t expecting that kind of answer. He always thought playing guitar was a hobby of yours nothing else. 

“I wanna paint, write and just…create.” You added.

“Old artistic soul you are.” He smiled, remembering the good days; your lessons. He thought you were gifted – a rock star – but you refused to believe it. When you learned the basics of the guitar you started experimenting, playing with melodies, and writing songs. Joel would play them. He liked your songs. 

 “I can tell you darlin’ one thing I know is your parents were proud of you and no matter what you do now they will be proud.” 

Your eyes started watering, but you refused to let the tears roll down your cheeks. You chugged the rest of your whiskey down like water. 

“I just wish they were here.” You leaned in, resting your head against Joel’s shoulder. He smelled like pine trees and something you couldn’t put a finger on it – something that made Joel, Joel. It had a calming effect on you.

“I know. I miss them too.” He said. Joel did miss them. They were his favorite neighbors, not forcefully kind or pretentious Bible folks – just normal kind of people. He loved spending time with your dad playing poker now and then and he certainly adored your mom’s signature pecan pie.

Alcohol was running through your veins as the sound of the clock was echoing throughout the house. 

“What time is it?” Joel asked you. 

“Mmmm, almost 1.” You slurred your words looking at your phone. 

“Do you want me to stay or are you okay sleepin’ here by yourself?” 

“You workin’ tomorrow?” You completely forgot it was Thursday. 

“Sadly. Have to get up at 7.” 

“Can you stay here for the night? I can take the couch, you go to my room. I can’t sleep there.” 

Joel placed a light kiss on your head and you were too intoxicated to notice it. Seeing you grieve the loss of your parents had a strange effect on him. It was almost like he could feel your pain, the same agonizing pain in his heart. “I will take the sofa.” 

He stood up leaving you starved for his touch and scent. You were drifting away when he pulled you back into reality. 

“Your back will hate you tomorrow though.” You said and wrapped yourself in your mother’s blanket. Joel pulled out the seat of the sofa making it into a small bed. 

“Or not.” You added when you realized someone finally fixed the pull-out sleeper chair you broke right before you left. 

“I fixed it for your old man a few weeks ago.” He said, adjusting the pillow before he laid down. He let out a sigh, feeling his body relax. “It’s brand new now.” 

No wonder your parents loved Joel so much. His exterior was tough, but under all the layers there was a heart made of gold. Even a simple thing like fixing the damn chair made your eyes tear up. 

“Thank you for fixing it for my dad, Joel.” 

“Your welcome darlin’” 

And with that you both drifted to sleep, leaving the whiskey bottle half empty. 

***

You woke up at around 8 am to an empty house and a pleasant smell in your nostrils. Your head was pounding, your mouth was dry as a dessert and you couldn’t sleep. You checked your phone only to see a text from Joel. 

I made you breakfast. Eggs and waffles since you only had that in the fridge. I figured you’d be too hungover to do anything, so EAT! 

He was right. You were indeed too hungover to do anything. 

On the kitchen counter, there was a plate waiting for you and a glass of orange juice. 

Thank you, my favorite guitar teacher :) 

You answered before your brain could complete your thought. 

And thank you for coming last night. I hope I didn’t suffocate you.

One thing you learned over the years was – people don’t give a shit. In the end, your problems are your own and no one else’s. He didn’t answer. Once you dove into your scrambled eggs you heard a bing. 

Darlin if you think this is a one time thing you’re mistaken. 

Again with the darlin’. Your heart started pumping faster as you stuffed your face with eggs. 

As you were thinking about how to answer, another message popped up. 

I told you to let me know when you’re back so we can catch up and play again. 

Another message. 

Well we missed the playing part last night.

He still remembered his own words from five years ago. You wanted to get back into playing, but by now you were rusty; you hadn’t touched your guitar in so long that you forgot how to hold it. 

You’d be disappointed. I haven’t played in ages, plus my guitar is back in New York. 

Darlin playin guitar is just like drivin a car. You aint forgetting that. You just have to remind your fingers how to move. 

You chuckled. His words made sense. Another message popped up in a matter of seconds. 

You can play my electric one. 

He never told you he had an electric guitar. He would always play the acoustic versions of his favorite rock songs. You decided why not. 

Okay, that’s goin’ to be a mess. I’m down. 

***

The rest of the day you spent in anticipation and nervousness. You tried to occupy your mind by doing simple tasks like going to the store, making lunch, and rummaging through your stuff in your room. You finally got the courage to go in, to see old family photos all over the room and old trophies and diplomas. You were an overachiever, a gifted kid your dad would call you, straight A student, a painter, a writer, and a spelling bee champion. Too bad once puberty knocked at your door that gifted kid became insecure, lost, and consumed with sadness. Once a gifted kid, now a miserable adult. You thought living by the book would make you happier, but it only made you hate life even more. 

You found your memory box under your bed and spent the majority of the day looking at old concert tickets, letters, and little Polaroids of old friends. You were too hyper-fixated on going down the memory lane; you didn't cry. The nostalgia this box brought  made your heart warm. Your room was a memory portal, pleasant and nostalgic, and you decided to take a nap in it. When your head hit the cold pillow your whole body sank into the mattress, and you drifted peacefully, with no thoughts in your mind and sorrow in your soul.

You woke up at around 7 pm. Someone was knocking on your door.

"Hey." You greeted Joel with a yawn, still not feeling 100% awake. You noticed his hair was slick back and wet, and he was wearing his signature jeans and a blue t-shirt. He probably took a shower back home. You swallowed the remaining spit in your mouth as you admired his looks. That man only looked better with age.

 In his hands, there were two guitars, his signature acoustic one and a baby blue Fender Stratocaster in the other. 

"Hey." 

Immediately he put the guitars on the couch and went straight into his backpack trying to find something. 

"There it is." He said and pulled out a small amplifier. 

"Joel, this guitar is fuckin' beautiful. You never told me you had an electric one." 

"Yeah well, when my band fell apart she went to the attic." 

You tilted your head wondering if you heard him right. "You had a band?"

Joel stopped mid-connecting the baby blue beauty to the amplifier and shook his head. "Long story." 

You started slow. You have never played an electric guitar so first Joel let you play with strings and feel the weight since an acoustic was a lot lighter than an electric one. 

"Like I told you, it's like drivin'." 

You took a deep breath, feeling your hands shake in anticipation. The anticipation being you waiting to fuck everything up. 

"I guess I forgot how to drive." You smiled awkwardly. 

Truth be told you forgot since in New York you don't need a car, but once Joel played one chord and told you to do the same your ears immediately perked up.

"That's G5." You said as your fingers touched the strings. The sound was strong and sharp, far different and powerful than the sound coming from Joel's guitar. 

"Another one." He said and played another chord.

"F5." You were correct. 

Joel's face lit up with excitement. The first time you saw him smiling for a straight minute. Every sound he played you guessed it. 

Soon enough you saw the pattern and recognized the melody.

"That’s…That’s Smoke on the water?"

"Unbelievable," he said, confirming your answer. " I’m convinced you have a perfect pitch because you darlin' are a natural." 

You felt your hands get sweaty and your fingers felt still and in pain – it was the same satisfying pain you felt in them after every lesson you had with Joel, only this time the pain was sharper because the strings were thicker. 

"Wanna find out?" You asked him. "Play me something and I'll try to follow you."

It felt good playing again. Walking on that road again was familiar and Joel was holding your hand guiding you all the way. 

He nodded and thought for a second before a familiar melody filled the room. It was Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin. Your favorite song. He took the inspiration from your old worn-out Zepp t-shirt you were wearing that day. It was your dad's. He gave you a few years ago when he realized he was too big to wear it. Both of you connected through that band and now Joel was playing one of their songs for you. 

The precision in which he moved his fingers, his silk back hair, his bottom lip between his teeth as he was trying to concentrate…Joel Miller was starting to occupy your mind more and more.

You shook your head and listened carefully. The chords were relatively simple. You played a couple before you eventually found them and slowly but surely you followed him. He was right, it was like driving. Your fingers remembered. 

"Good girl." You heard him say through the sound of both guitars creating heaven in the form of melodies. You smiled back at him, pretending like you didn't just feel your pussy get wet by his comment. You wondered if he was aware of it – his presence was intoxicating, addictive, you wondered if he was aware of his charm. 

"You're a fuckin' rockstar." He said and placed the guitar right next to him. He went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"No, I ain't." You denied, but he didn't register you.

"A rockstar with a perfect pitch." 

***

By the time you finished your jamming session, it was almost 9 pm. From Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Queen you covered everything you used to play together. Your fingers were red and swollen – but your heart was full. Joel put the missing puzzle piece in you, making you realize playing wasn't just a hobby, it was a need and a means of survival. Art was the core of your whole being.

Why did I stop playing in the first place?

You decided to have a late-night dinner.

"Hope you like my shitty burgers. I'm a lousy cook so if you get food poisoning you have been warned." You shrugged your shoulders and went to the kitchen. You made them that day to not think about cooking tomorrow, not knowing he would come.

"I'm not sayin' no to burgers." He smiled softly.

As you were sitting in silence devouring the burgers that were actually quite good in Joel's words your mind went somewhere you didn't want. Your crush. Your undying crush that was Mr. Handsome. He was much older than you, a friend of your now-deceased parents, and yet you would still get butterflies after so many years. 

"Tell me the story about the band." You shook your butterflies away and let your mind focus on something else. 

"I told you it's a long one."

"Well, make it shorter." You sassed. 

You shared a look before simultaneously taking a bite of your burgers, grease slipping down your fingers. 

"After high school me and my buddies would play small gigs in local pubs. We were doin’ pretty good until we got into a fight and broke up. I punched the bassist." 

"Of course you did. A fight over what?" 

Joel rolled his eyes when he realized what he had to tell you. "They wanted to name the band Rock Bottom." 

He confessed as you choked on a piece of your burger. Thank God you swallowed the piece quickly enough because you started laughing, while Joel just stared at you trying not to roll his eyes again. 

“A rock band, Rock Bottom! That’s horrible, I love it!” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

“But wait, why did you punch the bassist?”

“Ah, he fucked my ex.” He said almost too casually and you froze mid-bite. It was the first time he ever mentioned an ex/girlfriend. 

“That wasn’t the answer I expected.” 

***

After dinner, you both started craving alcohol. Since there was little to no whiskey left, you remembered your mom would always have a bottle of red wine in the house – for cooking and drinking purposes. Red wine was your poison and it opened many doors, setting you free and killing the remains of your shyness. Adrenaline was running through your veins when you poured your second glass, feeling your tongue untangling. You wanted to confess more with each sip. He seemed to be getting more and more handsome or you were just getting more and more intoxicated. For the past two days you weren't rotting away, you laughed, cried, ate and you remembered good moments in life. His laughter only made you laugh, his words made you listen, his music made you calm…

Your gaze was fixed on his perfect aquiline nose as he was telling you another story about his band or rather about the bassist that fucked his then girlfriend. You were drifting, wondering, fantasizing what it would be like to close the gap between you, to feel his warmth, to spend the night.

"And that's why I wanted to break his fuckin' jaw the second time."

You blinked a couple of times, praying to God you didn't visibly drift away. Another sip of wine went down your throat smoothly. 

"Darlin' are you okay?" 

Crap.

"Yeah I-" in a second God answered your prayers when you heard a bing from your phone. Your aunt and uncle have been checking up on you, regularly making sure you were alright so you assumed someone messaged in the family chat. You were wrong. It was your ex again. 

A quiet ugh left your lips followed by an eye roll before you locked your phone and put it on the table. 

"Everything okay?" Joel asked, glancing at your phone then back at you.

"Yeah. My ex and his I wanna talk bullshit." 

"Dude doesn't seem to get the memo, huh?" 

"Nope. I don't wanna talk to him. If I open my mouth he will probably cry or lose his mind. I'm doing him a favor."

Joel licked his bottom lip, not understanding what you just said.

"Care to explain more?" 

"You really wanna listen to me whine about my failed relationship?" 

"I'm all ears." 

He gave you permission and you told him everything. Something about this man screamed a safe haven for your aching soul. He was the comfort you needed. You told him the forbidden words. The love you wanted was the love your ex never knew how to give. His love was plain, boring like working 9 till 5. If he made a mistake he would buy you something, it he was tired he would forget to kiss you after coming home from work, if he was horny he would fuck you in the same position over and over. There was no depth, no fireworks. Your relationship looked like a marriage of two middle aged people that hated each other. He wasn't capable of satisfying you, neither emotionally, nor intellectually, nor sexually. The guy was as plain as white bread. When you got together with him, it felt right, because you didn't know him well, but after a year you already knew and when second year rolled around you wanted to jump out of your skin. 

Joel wasn't surprised by your words. He understood them, especially when he knew you during your college days. You were always hyper, desperately chasing that high; that dopamine boost, always getting hyper fixated on songs he would play you – you wouldn't stop practicing until you perfected the song – your brain was scattered back then in the same way as it was now. You were anything but boring. He liked that about you; your wild spirit perfectly aligned with his inner lone wolf. Later he realized, he wasn't much of a lone wolf after all when he was with you. Five long years without her… – he thought as the sweetness of wine hit his dry mouth. 

"Oh and he has a small dick," your mouth slipped. You were always as blunt as they come, but after alcohol – you were far worse. Joel choked on his last sip and chuckled. 

"How small?"  He asked genuinely curious. 

You lift up your right pinkie. "Add another half an inch." 

"Damn, poor dude." 

"No, Joel poor me," you said,putting your index finger on your chest. "It's not even the size, it's the fact that he was a selfish bastard and lasted two minutes."

You didn't know why you opened this particular can of worms. Joel seemed to be interested and listening, but was he truly? Your now drunk brain wanted to dive into something unknown and you did everything you could to stay in that lane and keep the conversation going. You wanted to know what he liked in the bed; you wanted him to verbalize it and then show you; especially since it was the truth – you haven't had good sex in AGES. At the same time another thought pierced your head like a bullet – was it wrong to be having these sinful thoughts in your deceased parent's house? Was it wrong to be crushing on a man who just turned 50? Were you just sad and wanting to replace sadness with a good orgasm? You didn't know and frankly you didn't care. This high was too good for you to stop chasing it – like a damn junkie. 

Joel licked his lips and devilishly smiled. He always liked hearing you vent. He thought you were adorable, getting all annoyed and frustrated and always losing yourself in your own thoughts – your mouth being faster than your brain. 

"Darlin', no wonder you weren't happy. Should have dumped his ass a long time ago."

"Stop callin' me that," you said, feeling yourself getting wet. Wine just enhanced everything you were feeling and Joel seemed to be getting hotter by the minute. "You always call me that and it's distracting." You added not wanting to sound rude.

"How so, darlin'?" He was a tease. You were his darlin' and ever since you stepped foot into his house, for your first guitar lesson, he would call you that and every time you would get distracted. 

"Ugh, Joel, don't make me embarrass myself now." You hid your face from him with your palm, feeling your cheeks burning. You dug this hole by yourself and now you had to lay in it. 

"Oh come on now, I'm curious." He was curious, even though he already knew the answer. He just wanted you to say it. 

All those years and she still looks at me like that. Silly little thing… 

"I- I like it too much…if you know what I mean." You poured the rest of the wine in your glass and took a big sip.

"No I don't." He tilted his head, like a damn kid asking stupid questions.

He was impossible.

"Jesus Christ," you whispered under your breath. "I get horny, okay?" 

You finally confessed and Joel smirked.

"Dear God, take me now." Came out in the form of a whisper. 

He was your parents' neighbor, your dad's poker buddy, he was 23 years older than you and yet you wanted him to devour you. 

"Is it bad that I have a crush on you and you're only 10 years older than my dead father?" You asked. The first time the word dead came out of your mouth. 

"Is it bad that I don't think it's bad?" 

That damn smirk on his face is going to be the death of me.

"If you don't think it's bad, can I do something?" You were burning up and the summer weather didn't help. 

"Of course, darlin'," he answered, and thank God he gave you an affirmative response because you were feeling adventurous. You chugged the rest of the wine from your glass and put it on the table. Then went and sat on Joel's lap, putting your legs on both his sides. You could feel his hot breath on your face, his firm chest and his dick slowly getting hard. Your hands found their way into his now dry hair; it was soft, softer than you thought. His fingers went behind your back, finding your bare skin under your shirt, making you shiver. 

"Now do you think it's bad?" You said, slowly moving your hips, grinding against him. 

His breathing deepened, his mouth slightly opened and he whispered: "No." 

That was all you needed to hear. No more holding back, no more hiding behind a shy smile and refusing to look him in the eyes. His wine-stained lips touched yours gently. His lips were surprisingly soft and as the kiss deepened more and more, his hands roamed on your body freely, touching any naked surface he could find. When your hips started moving faster a muffled moan escaped from Joel's mouth letting you know he was growing impatient. Hell, you could feel it. He was now fully hard underneath those jeans and big. 

When oxygen became a necessity, you broke away resting your nose on his.

"Still not bad?" You asked, almost breathless.

"Still not bad." 

Something about sleeping with your favorite guitar teacher in your living room, filled with family photos, was giving you an ick so you went into your room. Your bed wasn't big, but it was big enough for both of you. He climbed on top of you, kissing you hungrily as you pulled on his hair making him groan into the kiss. 

"Mmm I thought you couldn't sleep here." He told you between kisses. "What changed your mind?"

"I broke the ice today" – you sighed as Joel bit your neck gently – "With a nap." 

Your hands pulled on his t-shirt, trying to take it off and feel his warm skin against yours. He took it off, before taking yours off followed by your shorts leaving you completely bare, only in your black panties underneath him. It was too hot for a bra that day. You cupped your breasts feeling a sense of embarrassment. Joel took your palms, intertwined his fingers with yours and put your hands above your head.

"No need to feel shy aroun' me darlin'," He said and placed kisses all over your collarbones, getting lower and lower. You sighed growing wetter with each kiss and touch. His lips explored your skin, his beard lightly brushing against it leaving light red spots all over your belly. When he reached your panties he kissed you through the fabric as your back arched – your body on fire. You have never experienced anything like that with anyone and he hadn't even fucked you yet. Something about him; maybe his age or maybe the fact that you had known him for so long, he was comfort and you were ready to let go of all of your worries. You were his. 

"Are you going to…?" You asked looking at the ceiling, but unable to finish the thought. 

"Don't be shy, baby. Use your words!"

Baby.

You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burning. "Eat me out?"

Joel took off your panties as he positioned himself right in front of your cunt. He kissed the skin on your inner thighs as you bit your lip, balancing yourself on your elbows.

"I can do that, can't I?" He asked, trying to play innocent.

"Yeah, it's just… no one has ever. I don't know if I'd like it." You confessed. 

You had little to no experience when it came to good sex. Your ex liked the same shit and wasn't as creative as you would have wanted him to be. All of your previous partners were the same – same shit over and over. They were all selfish – selfish and just awful.

"You've been with some dickheads, darlin'. Who doesn't wanna eat this pretty little pussy? I mean look at you, baby." 

His words were hot, but tongue against your wet cunt was even hotter. 

"You're already so wet for me.Tell me if you don't like it, okay?"

"Okay, Joel."

He started off slow, showering you with kisses all around your sensitive and pulsating core, before his face was buried deep between your legs, licking the bundle of nerves that no one bothered to touch. Your fingers were in his hair, pulling it harder and harder as the pleasure was growing stronger. It was a brand new feeling – intense, but good. It felt like he was tickling you and torturing you and yet you didn't want him to stop. Your mouth only knew the sound of his name.

"Joel, Joel….FUCK!" 

You could feel the vibrations of his groans against your skin, making your back arch. When he placed two fingers inside, you knew you were going to lose it very soon. It was too much to handle. He was fucking you with his fingers as his mouth never left your clit. Your sanity began to crumble as you started forgetting your own name, only pleasure taking over you. 

"Oh my fucking God!" You screamed, gripping the bed sheets as the orgasm rushed through you. Your body was stiff, skin covered in goosebumps, your lungs forgot to breathe – the climax hit you hard. 

You were panting, practically running towards air, but not being able to catch it. Joel kissed your hip bone and climbed back up. 

"Good girl!" He said and kissed you letting you taste yourself. A mixture of sweet and salty hit your taste buds – you craved more. 

"Spit in my mouth!" You heard yourself say, breaking the kiss. Your hands cupped his face pulling him closer and licking your juices off his beautiful nose. 

Joel bit his lower lip,  letting you know he liked your demand.

"Open!" He said and you opened your mouth, letting your tongue out. A thick drop of saliva left his mouth and hit your tongue, and you swallowed instantly. Something about being able to finally taste every part of this man was enough to send you into an animalistic state so intense it was able to  cloud your judgment completely. You wanted to take control now. It was his turn to moan and scream in pleasure. Your hands went around his torso as you pulled him closer to you. His hot skin pressed against yours and before he knew it you managed to flip him over, with his help,so he was under you. Finally, he was under you.

"You are a lot stronger than you look, darlin', he told you as you took off his jeans.

"Not strong Joel…just really fuckin' horny." You confessed. 

He was bigger than you– sure; stronger– sure; but under your spell powerless. It has been a very long time since he felt this kind of connection with anyone. He needed this just as much as you did. 

"What you wanna do? He asked and watched you taking off his boxers, his dick free and fully hard and slightly curved to the right. 

"I want you to fuck my mouth, handsome." 

Handsome.

He was indeed handsome. His hair messy, skin drenched in sweat, his eyes soft as always – he was indeed the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. 

Only a gasp left his lips. He didn't even manage to react to your statement; his dick was already in your warm mouth. 

"Fuck!" You heard him say under his breath. Not having a gag reflex was a blessing, since he was big enough and hit the back of your throat right away. Your head moved slowly up and down as you hand cupped his balls making him grip the bed sheets and moan your name. Hearing him say your name all hot and bothered only made you want him even more. 

Your pace became faster, with each movement his dick would hit your throat and every time he would moan. 

"Baby!" He called but you didn't answer.

"Please, don't make me cum!" Your ears registered. He was begging.

"Please, don't wanna –" 

His words. The desperation in his voice was sweet like honey – music for your ears. You didn't stop though, you wanted to listen to him beg a little bit more. 

"Baby –"

His dick was hitting your throat every time and it felt too good to stop.

"Please –" 

His words – too melodic and desperate to pull away. 

"I'm gonna –"

Until you finally pulled away. His head hit the pillow and in relief he let out a sign when you got back up to kiss him

"Going insane, handsome?" You teased.

"Teasin' me like that darlin' – Jesus Christ– yeah a little bit." 

You kissed him again, swallowing his short exhales, smiling into the kiss. "I couldn't resist, you're cute when you beg." 

And with that he flipped you over by wrapping his hands around your body. With ease, like you were a ragdoll. A squeal echoed in the room. Your fingers followed his face lines; on his forehead, cheeks all the way to his lips, your thumb, brushing against his lower lip. You had never seen his face up close, every line was a perfect puzzle piece on his face, his eyes were dark, tired but filled with warmth. He was a work of art, nothing more, nothing less.

"You're so handsome, Joel." 

He didn't know how to react. He forgot how to take compliments, so he just kissed you, almost wanting to absorb your words through your lips. He liked them – he liked you, very much.

"You're beautiful, darlin'." He said, stroking your hair. 

"I never thought you'd go for a young lady like me." You told him, your hands around his torso, pulling him as close as possible. 

"And I never knew you'd go for an old man like me." He smiled, his face inches away from yours – noses barely touching.

You frowned. "You ain't old." 

"Sure darlin'." He smiled softly before kissing you again. 

It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a daydream. He was healing the wounds in your soul with each kiss. He was gluing you back together; like you were a broken vase; not even knowing that he was the glue. It was strange to finally feel an ounce of happiness – true authentic happiness; considering the situation and the enormous grief surrounding you in that house. He made everything go away. 

A pathetic whine left your lips as he entered you. He was big, bigger than any guy you had slept with and the blissful sensation was fused with light discomfort before completely melting with pleasure. Joel kissed the skin just underneath your ear.

"Are you okay?" He whispered. 

"Y-yeah. Fuck me!" You whispered back.

Slowly he started to move, establishing the pace. With each thrust, your fingers pulled his hair, with each pull he moaned. It seemed that he waited for you long enough. You were now his and only his to consume. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer to hit that sweet spot, your ex was incapable of hitting without cumming in two seconds. Sloppy kisses and love bites as the pace got faster. The room filled with moans, groans and whimpers. Time stopped – it was just you and him.

Joel suddenly stopped and took your legs, placing them on his shoulders. You watched him as he slowly leaned in to kiss you as he started moving again– faster and harder. You had no idea you were that flexible. 

"OH MY GOD!!" You screamed feeling him hit that sweet, sweet spot over and over again. 

He took your face squeezing your cheeks between fingers, forcing you to look at him.

"Not God, Joel!" He smirked as he was fucking you. 

You giggled. "Funny, old man!" 

Your body wasn't hurting, he bent you over in half; like a piece of paper; you could see your feet dangling in the air as he was pounding into you. 

"Joel, Joel, Joel!!!" 

"There we go! Come on baby! Cum! Cum for me!" His words were unexpected; since no one has ever cared enough to say them. No one has ever cared enough to see you come undone.

You dug your fingers into his back, feeling the waves of pleasure consuming you completely. 

"Gonna–"

"Fuck–"

"JOEL!"

For the second time you fell apart under him. Your body was completely drenched in sweat as you let the pleasure run through you. He still didn't stop, he was eager to cum; to have that release and fill you up. He wondered if he could.

You lifted your head up and kissed him. "Cum in me, handsome!" 

"C-can I?" He asked, barely able to speak. He was close – really close – he just wanted to make sure you were okay with it.

"I'm on the pill," you reassured him. "Please, Joel!"

The desperate plea was all it took for him to completely lose himself. He stopped moving, his body twitching in pleasure as he filled you up. The sound of him moaning and groaning as he couldn't keep your name out of his mouth was something you never knew you'd hear. 

You felt him fill you up completely, before he pulled out, collapsing next to you. 

He was aware that this wasn't just a meaningless fuck and you knew you were already falling for him. 

***

A few months later  

Your alarm went off as you pressed snooze. It was time to seize yet another day but after another 5 minutes and another and another... You rolled on your side to find the other half of the bed empty. 

"Joel?" You mumbled, still feeling groggy.

When you finally got the strength to actually get up, you found him in the kitchen making pancakes. 

"Mornin'," you said, rubbing your eyes.

"I was about to wake you up darlin', we're already late." He said, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

It was a rainy day in The Big Apple and you would much rather stay in your beloved loft than go outside and be a productive member of society. Unfortunately, you had dreams to catch and money to make.

"Didn't they tell us the rehearsal is at noon?" You asked, taking one pancake from the plate. 

"Darlin' it's 11am." He told you. You didn't realize you had been snoozing your phone for an hour.

"Do we have to go though? We already had two gigs there and we played the same shit. I know my chords.," you whined. As much as you love playing, you really wanted to stay in.

"Yes, we have to. Tonight is some kind of fancy jazz night, remember? We will be playing different songs."

You completely forgot about that.

"Shit! Well, it's your fault old man! Your stamina is so high, we always end up fucking like rabbits almost every single night for like 5 hours!" You teased and smacked his ass playfully. 

"Seriously?" He said with a bitch face as he watched you leave to go to the bathroom to get ready. 

"Love you, handsome!" He heard you say.

"Love you too, darlin'." He said and flipped the last pancake. 

[tytarax]

I am glad you're still here

Eren stood alone in the dimly lit room, his back to the door. His shoulders were tense, his breathing shallow and ragged. He had hoped for solitude, but the sound of the door opening and footsteps approaching shattered that fragile peace.

"I thought I told you not to come back," Eren said without turning around, his voice heavy with anger.

"Eren, I just want to help-" you said, softly and pleading.

"I DON'T need your help!" Eren shouted, spinning around to face you, his eyes blazing with rage and desperation. "What I need… is for you to leave me alone."

"But-"

"Even after all this time," Eren interrupted, his voice breaking slightly, "the moments I pushed you away, and you're still coming back."

"Let me help you," you said, stepping closer, your eyes filled with determination. "We'll figure it out."

"Don't you get it!?" Eren's voice was hoarse, his expression pained. "You can't help me. Because the one thing I want you can't give me."

"Listen to me," you pleaded, reaching out a hand.

"Quit it," Eren snapped, pulling away. "Stop acting like you know me! Stop thinking that you have to protect me."

"Why are you pushing me away?"

"You're asking me why I push people away?" Eren's voice dropped to a whisper, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Because I'm better off without you. And you're better off without me."

"Don't say that," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Don't tell me not to say that. You don't know how I feel." Eren's voice cracked, and he began to sob. "You could never understand how I feel… Just go… go before I say something that I will regret."

You stayed... in silence.

"I told you to leave! Leave!" Eren's voice grew louder, more desperate. "What do you see in me!? What even makes you stay? You already know what I said to Mikasa and Armin, they are my childhood friends and I don't even want them close to me… What makes you think that I want you to be by my side? You don't want to talk to someone like me anyway."

"I'm worried about you."

"You shouldn't be. There's more to worry about. More important things. Because I am… I am fine, I'll be fine. It doesn't matter how long it takes… a month, a year, I'll find a way. I've always had."

"Stop being so stupid, you selfless brat!" You shouted back, their frustration boiling over.

"So what? You think raising your voice at me is going to change my mind?"

"Watch how you're talking to me." You said, starting to lose composure "Eren, this is not like you"

"You think you know me so well, huh? You don't know shit about me."

"Stop being so..." You paused "Eren, you're just lonely-"

"Lonely? You think I'm lonely? I couldn't care less if I had anyone by my side."

"Stop it"

"No, you stop it. Because I'm tired of hearing you talk."

Eren's resolve began to crumble, his anger giving way to despair. "Go already! Just go! Don't waste your time on me. I'm not worth it."

That's when it hit you. "Eren please, don't say that"

"I don't know why… I don't know why you guys don't understand."

You stood there and didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry… I really don't mean to be this way… but tell me, how else am I supposed to protect myself from being hurt?"

"I want to trust you… I do! I really do! But… it's hard for me. Ever since I saw the visions in my head, I just haven't been the same. And I don't want you… to see me this way."

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't hug me! Let me go…" Eren sobbed, but he didn't pull away.

"We'll find a way... but let me help you"

He cried into your shoulder, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "Thank you… even though I don't deserve it, thank you. Sometimes I feel like a monster."

"Could you remind me that I'm still human?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

I love you Eren... I always will

"Yeah… I love you too. I love you too… I'm sorry I act like this. I just… I need to figure this out. I'm sorry if I ever bring you any more pain in the future, 'cause I can't promise you I'll be perfect, or that I'll make the right decisions all the time. But I'll try… I'll try to do my best."

You held him tighter, your presence a soothing balm to his wounded soul. "Yeah… I know this contradicts what I said before, but I am glad you're still here."

Part 2 (nsfw)

Masterpost

AOT Masterlist

[lagncx]

Protecting a fire with bare hands.

Ch: 8

Shorter than the rest oh my gosh. But I needed this one shorter cause the next one is gonna be a flashback and I hate writing a flashback on this same chapter cause it’s like filler in a way. But yea don’t worry guys I have a plan. Love you guys if anyone is reading…if anyone gives a fuck.

———————-try not to eat him.—

You walked into Odin's study, cracking your knuckles, eager to see what the All-father needed from you. You couldn’t help but ear-hustle the conversation as you came in.

“Heimdall I hear you. But are you listening? The boy is my guest, me and him have business, and if I didn’t know any better than you of course I’d say you were jealous.” You stopped walking and stood by the door, you expected them to stop but Heimdall only scoffed “Father I am trying to protect our home, our people. I look into his eyes and I see-“ He cut himself off slowly turning to look at you, he put his lips together and bowed, turning away and leaving but not without sharing a glance with you.

You only hummed to yourself continuing into the study “All father.” You bowed “You sent for me” but Odin hushed you “Heimdall! I know you're still lurking, please. Leave!” You chuckled as you heard footsteps fading completely “Once again, you sent for me?” You asked and he nodded but was silent looking into nothing for a while “Tell me, do you like Heimdall?” You straightened yourself up.

‘What?’

Liking Heimdall was a rare occurrence for many and you'd be lying if you said he was likable, but you didn’t hate him he was the first person who actually talked to you, he was loyal, honest and you can admire that. He lacks kindness and empathy but that wasn’t rare among these guys, you rubbed your neck, you haven't really thought about liking him since you both were working in training the youth you guys settled your differences in your own way.

“Yea…I like him.” You shrugged “he’s an asshole, but he cares about Asgard. I can respect that, I mean…no disrespect to you, all father but you invited the son of someone who killed his nephews.”

You looked at Odin who had gotten up from his chair nodding “Do you see what I’m doing? I’m listening. Something he doesn’t do.” You snorted

“Yes but I mean he has the foresight and can read minds, he’s under the illusion that he holds the answers and I’m guessing it frustrates him that you don’t well…care?” Odin sighed “Yes, maybe so but he lacks empathy, understanding, patience, and every other quality. But he is honest. But right now with Loki here, I just need him to get off his back.”

Oh fuck no.

Odin came to you and laid a hand on your neck “I need you to take him with you on your missions” You closed your eyes “All-father, graduation night we, had a falling out and I’m not even sure where I and him stand, it’s like a mutual agreement that we are business partners.” You sighed, Odin only hummed “It’ll only be a few days, maybe a week.”

You only laughed “no.”

Odin smiled at you offering you no way out.

You shook your head “Nope.”

You stepped into the Black Thunder, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you recalled how easily Odin had persuaded you to join the chaos. Bathed in the dim, flickering light of the tavern, stood the man himself, a nonchalant figure cradling a cup in his hand. His detached demeanor was palpable; the raucous laughter and roughhousing around him seemed to fade into the background, leaving him untouched by the mayhem. A palpable aura of authority surrounded him, ensuring that none dared to approach or disturb his solitude.

like they even could.

You sighed and pushed your way through being knocked in the jaw suddenly by a helmet on accident making you growl and push them into the table spilling their drink, you only cursed under your breath realizing you had a fight coming, suddenly you felt a punch to your jaw making your eyes water as your teeth bit down on your tongue.

‘oh Heimdall what’d I’d give to have your foresight’ you gasped when the helmet started throwing crazy haymakers you dodged two and got hit with the rest suddenly you heard that voice that would make everyone but your eyes roll

“Left.”

You dodged right and threw a hard elbow to the soldier's face. You watched the guy fall and let out a cheer of victory spitting out some blood, you loved the rush honestly.

You heard slow clapping coming your way while laughing “Bravo! Good show!” Heimdall chuckled, “You made my day, and oh, you’re welcome.” You felt his hands massage your shoulders “You asked for my foresight I decided to lend you some. Now.” You felt him push you making you fall over the table falling on your back, you gasped for air, your back aching.

Heimdall stepped up on the table “You have something to tell me?” You groaned “Yeeep” you blew out some air through your nose trying to soothe yourself. Heimdall smiled “well get up you’re getting slow while training, So we’ll spar while you tell me.” You closed your eyes

‘Why do you love to torture me?…’

You suddenly got kicked in the side “Get up.” Heimdall irked

You grumbled, you need to stop thinking now and try to not be predictable. You got on the table and pulled out your sword, you frowned looking at the steel “Sorry” you said to it and the sword vibrated in your hand.

‘Do not be, I will lead your hand as you guide it.’ Your blade spoke.

you suddenly got hit in the rib by Heimdalls foot making you let out an unpleasant sound, “this is supposed to be one of asgards protectors? I’m concerned!” You only grumbled and swung at him making him effortlessly dodge, around you the helmets were cheering heimdalls name and banging on the table. You shook your head, closing them out “Heimdall Odin has a mission for us-“ you felt him step on your foot slapping you “Shit!” You yelled holding your face, you rubbed the itching pain away.

Heimdall backed away and said, “You think faster than you talk—don’t talk, just think!” You sighed and returned to your stance.

‘Odin called for me, you know that.’

Heimdall nodded but then lunged to strike. You pushed back successfully. ‘He gave us both a mission, and we’re leaving tonight.’ You spun away from his swing, but he punched you in the side in response.

‘It’s going to require us to leave Asgard.’ Your mind said

With that, Heimdall kicked you, causing you to land on your back. He positioned his sword at your throat. You cleared your throat and replied with your voice, “For a while.”

Heimdall furrowed his brows, turning around, and putting his sword away “No.”

you got up

“What do you mean no? The All father said so! Since when did you say no?”

Heimdall walked outside the tavern “Since that.. half-breed invited himself inside our walls.” You rolled your eyes jogging up to him

“He’s the all-father's guest.” He stopped walking, making you bump into him.

“Who’s leading this mission?” You bit your lip, he wouldn’t like it but it was useless to lie.

“I will, I know a lot about the outside since Midgard“

He only huffed and walked away “Ridiculous, I can't believe it.” you grabbed him missing his arm and pulled his sleeve and he glared at you. You looked at him, “Come on, don’t anger Odin.” He pulled away “Don’t pull me! You seem not to understand the word ‘threat’ that boy will be chaos.” Turning back around

Suddenly a barrier of water fortified in front of him, he shook his head and turned to you “Really, you gonna block me with water?” You walked up to him “Just…trust the All Father.” You pleaded “If you can’t trust me or Loki then trust the All Father.”

Heimdall looked back towards the barrier as the water fell down on the grass. He trusted his father with his life, he’d give his if he was asked to.

“Alright. Tonight then?” He asked and you nodded “Tonight.”

Heimdall looked down at your tunic “You are not going in that.” You looked down

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” You asked and he wrinkled his nose, “First, it smells, second because I said so, I need new bracers anyway, let’s go.”

You hesitated and he saw it in your mind “What? Speak up.” You looked away for a second then back into his eyes.

“I'm not like-…an Asgardian god.”

Heimdall tilted his head slightly, a warm chuckle escaping his lips mocking you. "You are the protector of realms, a descendant of a mighty god, yet you remain uncertain of your lineage. Fear not, for you are with me, and here, you shall find acceptance. The Royal Armourers are at your command as well. Come now, let us embark on the journey of preparation." He said using his proper posh accent making you gag.

you trailed closely behind him, feeling a surge of excitement. Your “armor” wasn’t much to speak of—just a makeshift collection of patched-up clothes you had cobbled together before leaving Asgard. Yet, in that moment, it felt like a badge of honor, reflecting your journey and resilience. But gods you were excited to drop it.

Arriving at the Great Lodge Heimdall walked to the room in the back, opening the door and walking deep into the room, your eyes adjusted to the change in light and heat.

“Ah, Heimdall. Do you wish to bless me with your company?”

Heimdall dropped his bracers on the table in front of the older man “Improve these.” He ordered “and make her some armor fitted for all realms. I expect the best. Is that understood fionñ?”

The man nodded, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “Yes, Lord Heimdall, you used to descend into this workshop every day to witness the artistry of my metalwork. Do you not long to do so again?” you smiled, envisioning a young, wide-eyed Heimdall, filled with wonder at the transformation of raw metal into beautiful creations. Heimdall, however, shook his head gently, his gaze distant. “No, not at the moment.”

Fionn looked at you “Come dear, I have to measure you, remove those layers if you don't mind?” You looked down at yourself then back and slowly removed your clothing, feeling slightly exposed, you looked over at Heimdall who had turned away respectfully. You smiled at this and dropped your clothes on the ground, the warmth seeping into your bones. Fionn approached you with a long line of measuring ribbon with numbers on it, he wrapped it around your chest.

Fionn took a small breath. “Well II like to keep conversation to make my people feel relaxed, so dear tell me about your sword.” You shrugged standing still you relaxed more You looked at him looking down at your sword. “It's a gift from the All-Father. But apparently it was Tyrs.” You shrugged, Fionn hummed “Lord Tyrs? That’s why it’s not in these lands. Tell me, where is it from?”

You put your arm out for him to measure “Japan, it’s a land far from here not even a realm we know. I read all about it in Tyr’s journal. He wrote about the sword, fearing he did not know how to wield it, so he didn’t and only opened it to clean and polish.”

Fionn chuckled, “Then I’ll be sure to be careful with it.”

You shook your head “No, I-…have someone to keep the sword upright.”

Fionn sat down “Well, I understand that you and Heimdall will be leaving soon so I will tell you this, are you alright with something older? It is still in mint condition.” You smiled “I’m honored and grateful for anything.”

Fionn grunted and walked towards a tarp. You and Heimdall followed. “I studied all kinds of armor, even from far lands. This should fit nicely with some tweaks, I knew of your father and I’m sure this’ll bring you back, I made him one just like this.” He pulled off the tarp, and you felt a chill run down your spine. An empty arrangement of armor.

Heimdall cringed, “This is not Asgardian Fionñ.”

Fionn chuckled “It was made back when the Vanir were allies, I can repaint it.”

you felt it on your fingers, like static, the fabric smooth. Heimdall stood with his arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he regarded you intently. “It is your choice.”

Turning back to Fionn, determination surged within you. “I don’t want to bring fear to my people, or disrespect the vanir.” Fionn tilted his head, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. “But surely you’d want your enemies to fear you, no?” You nodded, realizing the truth in his words. “Yes, but they need to see me, for who I am. Fear comes with the unknown but I know how to scare people.”

Fionn’s expression softened with acknowledgement. “I’ll cut the shoulder pads and sand it down to a smooth finish, and repaint the surface with blue accents, flecked with gleaming Aesir gold.”

A smile broke across your face as gratitude welled in your chest. “Thank you.”

———-

You stood in awe, captivated by the graceful way he painted over the fabric, each stroke of his brush imbued with a sense of artistry that seemed to breathe life into the material. The vibrant colors danced under the soft glow of the studio lights, transforming an ordinary textile into a canvas of imagination. As he meticulously molded the shape, his skilled hands worked deftly to ensure a perfect fit that would hug your form comfortably yet elegantly.

When the servants arrived to help you into the garment, a sense of anticipation filled the air. You felt the luxurious fabric glide against your skin, a gentle reminder of the care that went into its creation. As you turned to face the mirror, your heart raced at the sight before you—a stunning transformation that revealed not just the beauty of the clothing, but also your own inner glow of confidence and elegance. The reflection captured a moment of surreal beauty, leaving you awestruck by the metamorphosis.

But there was no doubt once the armor was on it seemed not of any realm it was terrifying, the intimidation rolled off of you and the servants stood back, their eyes on you. You held up your sword and unleashed the blade, but you would not be a monster. This wasn’t the armor of a monster.

Your blade buzzed and you heard it speak ‘When in this armor you will take care of it, and when we face what we face, nothing changes, we fight all foes with honor, respect my wishes and I will take care of you.’ You focused on your eyes reflecting in the blade ‘Be soft, and be hard, be tough and be gentle, be like water, like the waves that adapt and carry life.’ You nodded, turning around and walking out from behind the curtain putting away your sword you saw Heimdall and he pulled on his bracers, his head turned to you and he nodded a greeting

“...it fits you, grotesquely.”

You scratched your neck “We're gonna need an animal, to make travel easy.” Heimdall nodded “I’ll go ready Gulltoppr.” You only shook your head “Look I know you love her but that’s just too risky she’s not good for that kind of journey.”

Heimdall squinted at you, offended by your comment “I’m sorry-…Gulltoppr isn’t good enough? She is amazing at traversing wilderness.” You nodded

“Yes but what’s better? Feeding a horse or trying to feed a tired giant ass lion.”

Heimdall grumbled “Since it’s your operation I guess we’ll do it your way. Since everything has to be your way.”

Both of you walked out of the Great lodge you sighed, following him farther behind, Heimdall walked to the stables and inside were horses, some pigs and other animals. Heimdall turned to you “Pick your horse.” You walked towards the horses looking at them all, you knelt down looking at their hooves, you shook your head. “No, none of these.” Heimdall rolled his eyes “So Gulltoppr it is then?”

You looked at him, eyes twitching from his pestering, you straightened up “No, we’re going to go find some wild horses.” Heimdall squinted “and where are we going to find—“ Heimdall went silent, his eyes peeling back the folds of your thoughts. He only grumbled.

Realizing he knew, you smirked “Your favorite, Vanaheim. Beautiful colors, humid weather, deadly flowers! What a vacation.” You smiled at his irritation

You looked down at your right arm tattoos littering your wrist. You frowned slightly, Heimdall stepped in front of you with his shoes in your view “Well, what are we waiting for? What’s going on in that head?” You swallowed some spit, “Heimdall, I need you to stay out of my mind. Please, just while we’re out of Asgard, promise me.”

“No.”

You looked at him “I said please-“

Heimdall grabbed you “No! You’re hiding something from me.” You ripped yourself from his grip “Heimdall, trust me!”

“Why, why should I- everyone lies and I hate liars so why should I trust you?” He yelled at you.

You closed your eyes and turned your hand up for him to hold “Because—I need you to see me with your heart, not your mind.”

Heimdall still peaked in your mind but he found nothing but fear. But he felt no more than fear. He looked at your hand and sighed, slapping it away “Fine. Let’s just get this mission over with, what’s our goal anyway?”

You used the ring to open a tear to Vanaheim. The difference in atmosphere and weather you could feel through the tear you smelled, the fresh air, the sap in the trees, you stepped through and behind you was Heimdall.

You looked around “There’s tons of wildlife here, be careful of some of the plan-“ you grunted when Heimdall pushed you out of his way “I know that idiot I’ve been here too.” You narrowed your eyes at his back

‘Asshole’

He didn’t reply or stumble at that, good. He was out of your head.

The truth weighed heavily on you; it was a perilous choice to return. Vanaheim was not a realm unfamiliar to you. Heimdall, with his keen eyes and sharp wit, had dismissed the truths you spun, and The All-Father believed your ventures were confined to Midgard. You harbored no pride in weaving such lies, but it was a necessary deception—better to guard against the chaos of one realm spilling into another.

As you surveyed the untamed wilderness, your senses heightened. Every rustle of leaves, every whispered breeze, felt fraught with the possibility of danger, and the memories flooded back—those haunting sensations, that hunger gnawing within you again.

“Hey.” You turned to Heimdall, who was watching you with an air of curiosity. “This way; the horses should be in the fields, right?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah… yes,” you exhaled, the weight of anxiety mixed with a tinge of resolve as you followed him deeper into the wild expanse. You breathed it all in, it's been so long since you’ve been here last, and immediately you fell back in love with the life in it.

Horses of all colors of all kinds running down the green valley Heimdall was swatting away some bug “That one” you said pointing at a large horse it was a draft horse a shire. It had long black hair and white spots along its large torso. Heimdall nodded “acceptable”, you turned to him smiling at him and he rolled his eyes figuring out (without reading your mind) you wanted him to tame it. “Stay here.” He said approaching the horses slowly, you took a seat on a rock smiling happily as you watched him move towards the herd.

It was a good hour before he even was able to get on the large horse, holding its hair tightly in a fist he squeezed his legs against it keeping his balance. You smiled watching him in action he looked pretty godly and that horse was stubborn as a mule. In fact he looked like he was having fun, you heard…no you felt it. Like a spider crawling up your back and into your ear.

You turned to your right then left, the wind blew hard, you blocked out Heimdalls grunts and the horses yells, you put your hand on the grip of your blade feeling a lump in your throat, fear… something lunged for you…someone.

Reavers..

But in Vanaheim? You swallowed your spit and froze, it all overflowed, you felt frozen in fear, your bones stuck with pins. You saw your attacker's blade aiming for you but then he stopped, letting out a distressed breath his body slid apart by his midsection.

Standing behind him was Heimdall who was wiping his blade with a cloth. You looked up at him stumbling away from the mess into the large horse behind you, grounding you when you felt its soft hair against your sweaty palms. “The hels is your issue?! You were just going to watch him as he gutted you? You practically went belly up like a damn fish to let him, weren’t you trained better than that?!” Heimdall scolded you, putting his blade away in a swift motion.

You whimpered “R-reavers…here? But- they were in Midgard.” You ranted Heimdall rolled his eyes frustrated by your rambling looking down at the man he had just mutilated “He was weak, skinny…hungry. You must’ve looked like a good meal.”

You turned away from the dead Reaver. Heimdall walked in front of you “Why are you so shaken? Since The beginning of fumblwintr the use of

Tyrs temple has been considerably active. I’m sure If an idiot possum like you could figure it out then so can a Cannibalistic Reaver.”

You glared at a patch of grass “I’m not an idiot-“

“You are, don’t just stand there, what if I wasn’t there.” He grumbled calling the horse to him

You rubbed your arm “but you were so what does it matter.” Heimdall checked the horse's mouth for any infections petting its tongue “I won’t always be there for you, you spent a few years without me remember?” He said that, like it was easy to kill, but for you, you tried not to, tried to avoid it.

You walked to him, his eyes looking at you squinting, you opened your arms and slowly, waiting for rejection, hugged him, snuggling your face into his arm “Thank you Heimdall. I was just…scared.”

He was tense but relaxed, pushing you off “Didn’t you tell the kids back home, that it was okay to be afraid, and like Heimdall bend in the wind.” He smirked at you.

You shrugged “The kids needed a visual.” You looked at the horse smiling up at it, you put your hand on its chest. Heimdall grabbed your wrist, pushing it lower “Feel it? Strong heartbeat, healthy heartbeat.” You smiled nodding he was great with animals. Outstanding with them, because he didn’t have that fear of being betrayed maybe.

“Now, let’s go get a saddle on this big guy and head out, what were we searching for the All Father?” He asked, hopping on the horse pulling you up with him, you sat in front of him, his chest against your back so you could be stable on something, you shrugged “Were seeking out the Norns.” There was silence Heimdall cleared his throat

“The…Norns. Why?”

You opened a realm tear your surroundings changing to Asgard “The All Father gained information that—Loki's father went seeking for the Norns with Freya. I’m curious to know what they were told, but I’m not hunting them, there should be no reason to panic.”

Getting down from the horse you waited for Heimdall to finish the horse and sat down on a large stone looking at your hands you thought about Vanaheim, the reavers…

About Freyr.

————

Tagging @slaying69696969 @onceuponanightmareisawme

[scribbyizhere]

i have no idea what the abandoned carnival au is but I 100% support rambling so here's your opportunity to ramble about whatever you wanna say about it!

(and if you're like me and can't answer non-specific questions here's some for ya:

What are the character's worst flaws? How do they interact with other characters? Is there any specific event that stuck with them from their past? How do others treat them? Any significant traits important to the plot?)

Hope your day's goin well!

WHAAAAG I LOVE YOU MINUTE/P !!!!! ok no one would really know much abt the carnival au because I haven't mentioned it really um haha. I did draw the moon for this au in Sundays daycare magma so yay if you need a face to the name you have one!

urm let's see here. so, for moon, I think his worst flaw is being unable to communicate properly. He struggles to keep things happy, he really does bring things down a lot and that's a flaw pushed on him by the process of his paranormal creation. what who said that.

sun's worst problem is his pride. he refuses to admit when he's wrong and he refuses to TALK about whatever he was wrong about. he's a 'drop it, I don't want to talk about this' kinda guy. he's a professional ghoster, if I do say so myself. totally not a pun linked to his paranormal creation. whaaat who keeps saying these things??? seriously this is crazy!!!

moon doesn't MEAN to push people away, he was made to operate a carousel, not make friends. But if he knows that someone is worth keeping ther, dedicated to staying with him, he can be soso clingy. he still has to rely on others though, otherwise he can't run, just like a music box. Sun has major people person energy, but he still gets so overwhelmed. He took on over 5 jobs around the entire carnival, between both entertainment and upkeep. so he has an overall energetic personality, bit when he burns out he burns out HARD. this makes him often irritable or overbearing for a lot of people, but he balanced it out between him and moon.

the fire. whenever the carnival closed down for the night. the missing kids. what happened to everybody else around here?

no, nothing much.

they really CANT get out much anymore, they've really tied down their roots since the place stopped moving from town to town way back in '47! furthermore, they cannot really talk to much of anybody but each other! and moon hasn't been wound up since the carnival wasn't needed anymore! that's why sun was SOOO happy when a human- you - showed up! can you believe it? moon enjoys your company too, but someone can only spend 60+ years in solitude for oh so long! can you imagine not aging, because you're nothing more than a puppet- a doll inside the puppet?? oh, he has so many things to show you!!! you're quite nice, probably not well suited to hang around such a guy all down in the dumps all the time! not that moon complains, having someone willing to care so much about him just the same- isn't that COOL??

Sun wasn't always supposed to take over all these other jobs. He used to be happier, calmer. I wonder what made him so tense. He's always stuck in a nervous state, no matter how happy he is around you. Moon wasn't always sad- he used to be a happy and mischievous guy that would even dance along to his music. hard to believe how broken down the tunes of the calliope have gotten.

[crascet]

Recent Comics I've Read Pt. 3 (DC/ Small Update)

I really haven't posted much due to class work in my university, meaning there is not much time with posting here or doing art. I do have time to post this review and maybe one later in the week, but with that said, time to review.

Taking a break from Marvel with both the mainline and Ultimate universe, I get to talk about the other big comic publisher: DC! I've been getting back into DC more thanks to James Gunn taking over DC Studios and making his new DCU which has me excited for future movies like Gunn's Superman movie coming out in July. For the most part, the comics here are set in the mainline DC universe with the exceptions being a crossover, a Black Label title where it is not set in the main universe and a tie-in to an animated series. With that said let's begin.

Absolute Power #1-4 (Waid/Mora): The first event that I read in full, from the first issue to the last and it was some solid work through it all. Issue #1 shows how everything is going to hell in a handbasket for the heroes over the span of the issue. Heroes being framed for horrible crimes and acts through AI-created videos which makes the public hate them, Amazos being sent out to capture said heroes and can even straight-up take away their powers which then lead to one secretly taking Superman's powers and ended with Clark getting shot with regular bullets, everyone else in the hero community is scattered with no way of getting outside help be it from space, magic, or in time, Waller leading this whole strike on the hero community with the help of Failsafe, the Brainiac Queen, and a heel-turned Oliver Queen, and- OH GOD, JONATHAN WHAT DID THEY DO TO MY BOY?! NOOOOOOOOO! AHHHHH-

Yeah, everything is not going great. So, the next issues follow this hero resistance to stopping Waller from taking out all the heroes, with issue #2 following a strike on the Fortress of Solitude that led to some tie-ins and with Nightwing being the leader of the resistance, which is some good work from Waid there. This is also where we see Jon being a brainwashed cyborg courtesy of the Brainiac Queen (which ultimately hurts to see) and then culminates to the Fortress being self-destruct, with the remaining heroes escaping. Issue #3 is probably my second favorite issue beside the first issue in its moments. It shows another attack from the Brainiac Queen's forces this time on Themiscura and it is similar to the previous issue, except this time, the resistance broke Jon's brainwashing and restoring him back to his old self and stopping the Brainiac Queen. Issue 4 is the resistance finally putting a stop to Waller by destroying all the Amazos and stopping Waller's plan B of creating a multi-dimensional army, all thanks to the additional help of Ollie who turned so he can go inside Waller's forces and dismantle her plan from the inside. So now that the Amazos are destroyed, the powers then go back to the heroes, well most of them as some heroes get completely different powers than what they originally had during the chaos. So now realizing that due to Waller's plan happening easily due to the splintering of heroes, the Trinity then decides to reform the Justice League to make the hero community be united to stop whatever threat is affecting the world or themselves.

I do know about the tie-ins as well as the prologue stories that led to this event, specifically Williamson's run of Green Arrow from last year as well as Suicide Squad: Dream Team and how it introduces Dreamwalker into this event's story, which would make her sacrifice in issue 2 feel more impactful to me. With that said, the event issues themselves do tell the whole story well without you needing to read said tie-ins to fill in the whole thing, which is a common problem with event comics. Overall, this was a good read that would then lead into...

All In Special (Williamson/Snyder/Sampere/Craig): A sort of preview to what the future of DC comics are going into with the "All In" initiative, namely with the future releases of Justice League Unlimited and the Absolute Universe. This special is actually two different stories to showcase said previews and can be read by simply turning the book upside down depending on the story. The first story tells about the upcoming reformation of the Justice League, now having almost every hero on Earth in the DC Universe becoming a member, including Booster Gold, (a personal favorite of mine!) by giving them a JL membership card, made with parts of high-tech and magic. The story then follows BG as he goes to the League's satellite base for the coronation of the new League and how it'll bring a bright new future with this new League, and everything is going nice... until the abrupt appearance of Darkseid, who is now attained the powers of the Spectre. Battle ensues and it all ends with a magic-infused Superman seemingly killing Darkseid as he fades away and mysteriously thanks Superman. During the battle, Darkseid fired his Omega beams and seemingly hit one of the cards, which then became a rift that travelled to another universe. However, as pointed out by Mr. Terrific and Batman, the only way to travel through the rift is if someone has enough Tachyon energy, more specifically a time traveler. So, Booster volunteers himself and Skeets to go through said rift and see where it leads and if there is any connection with Darkseid and return after 10 minutes with Skeets being the only one to help him get back, only for Booster to end up in a dark, alternate future with Skeets being lost somewhere during the trip.

Now to the other story, we see Darkseid fueling a machine with his own blood as the machine can only be activated by himself, so he chops off his hand and gives it to the machine, for it not being enough. His forces then intrude on Darkseid asking why he's still working on the machine and instead just focusing on taking over Earth since the heroes are struggling due to the events of Absolute Power. Darkseid responds with no, and his son, Kalibak, asks him why and that they are all his blood, which then has Darkseid proceeding to kill Kalibak with his stubbed arm and give Kalibak's body to the machine which is enough for it to work. Darkseid then begins looking for someone as he travels to both Hell and Heaven before going to the dark side of the moon. After a short battle with Eclipso, he finally finds who he was looking for: Jim Corrigan, the human host of the Spectre. So, with the help of his machine, which turns out to be a miracle machine that allows him to have any wish granted, said wish being to bond with the Spectre. Now that he is bonded with him, Darkseid then asks him about a weird surge he felt during the ending of Absolute Power. Spectre then teleports him to the JL satellite base and into the fight from the previous story, now from Darkseid's POV. During the battle, the Spectre reveals to Darksied that he, like Superman, is multi-dimensional constant: Superman is the embodiment of hope in the multiverse, while Darkseid is the embodiment of control in the universe, which is why there is only one Darkseid and no other double (although I'm not sure on the double part), hence "Darkseid Is." As for the surge Darkseid felt, that was his energy being gathered into himself when the multiverse was sealed to the main DC universe from the events of Absolute Power. So now finding this all out, Darkseid then decides to break free from this universal constraint in the main universe and letting himself die in the end of the battle. As a result, his energy then goes into a brand-new universe and creates it in his own way, by having its heroes having disadvantages in their origins, all of which leads to the dark, alternate future Booster ends up in the end of the first story, as he sees Darkseid leading his own version of the Legion of Superheroes.

Overall, this has gotten me excited for the future of DC in comics with Waid's JLU and the Absolute Universe with two very good stories.

The Bat-Man: First Knight #1-3 (Jurgens/Perkins): My second Black Label title I've read, after Riddler: Year One, which was a prequel tie-in to Matt Reeves' The Batman (a really good read that I recommend to anyone that's a fan of the film or even the Penguin series). First Knight shows a Golden Age Bat-Man in the 1920s as he investigates a murder spree involving a group of monster men that are reanimated criminals from the dead. It's a nice read that I enjoyed as I'm a fan of pulp hero and detective comics from the Golden-Age like this. On that thought, I wondered what a Golden-Age World's Finest would be like, since Batman and Superman teamed up first during the Silver Age. If anyone knows if there was a Golden Age team up during that era or in more recent years, let me know and if the story is good.

Batman/Superman: World's Finest Vol. 1 (#1-5)/#21-32/Annual (Waid/Mora/Gutierrez): Now for the main reason I'm into these comics and what made me into DC comics for the long while. I first heard about Mark Waid and his critically acclaimed DC miniseries: Kingdom Come as well as his tenure with Marvel with his Fantastic Four run, which has some saying to be the best FF run, and his Daredevil run, which is also equally acclaimed. So, for my first introduction with his work, I was impressed by how fun the series is. In a way, it's sort of a callback to the Silver Age of DC, which was when the original World's Finest series was created, embracing the light-hearted fun of the era with fun characters and outlandish plots. Despite the title, this series is not just about Superman and Batman, but also features Robin, Supergirl, the Doom Patrol, Wonder Woman, the Flash, the entirety of the JLA, AND the JSA. It is a big exploration on the Earth of DC and its many heroes and villains that I want to see more of. I first read during the middle of the Kingdom Come prequel arc, which is controversial to my knowledge in its ending and how it resolves itself while still connecting to Kingdom Come, which I understand why it has to end to begin the story and how readers wouldn't like it. But if they wouldn't like that story, the annual and the 25th issue are quite good, especially with the ladder. Seeing Lex and the Joker team up is funny and also realistic as combining a lawfully neutral to evil character like Lex with a chaotically evil character like the Joker is really not a great idea as they don't get along well at all. The next arc has a bunch of 5th-dimensional imps being targeted by Doom-mite and his army of villainous imps, which is really cool to see. This arc is pretty much a love letter to the Silver Age and DC in the 60s, with the multiple mites, the many transformations of Jimmy Olsen, and how the 2nd dimension in the arc has the design of the 60s Super Friends cartoon. A nice love letter to the era while also talking about the nostalgia of it and how to move on and not stay in said nostalgia with a very heartwarming ending which has this storyline be my favorite from the series. Currently, the new arc has Batman, Superman, the JLA and the JSA team up to take down Eclipso in another nice storyline. Also, the art from Dan Mora is amazing, pretty much my favorite art in a comic I've read, with Checchetto and DWJ being close behind. This is just an amazing run that further cements my trust with Waid's writing, much like Jonathan Hickman.

Justice League vs Godzilla vs Kong #3-7 (Buccellato/Duce): So back in the 70s, Marvel fist had the comic rights to Godzilla, essentially making their version of the King of the Monsters, even though he doesn't look much like his film appearance, and even did a crossover with the Marvel Universe and all its superheroes. Two big highlights are with Godzilla having equivalent strength to Thor in pushing a building against each other and Hercules being the one hero to literally throw the Big G because Marvel Hercules is awesome. The Marvel licensing would expire, and the comic rights would then go to Dark Horse before ending up with IDW as I steadily wait for my Sonic/Godzilla crossover comic (I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT IAN FLYNN YOU COWARD!). However, this is only for Toho Godzilla, as the first ever crossover with Godzilla and the DC Universe is actually with Legendary's Monsterverse as that is the version of Goji that is currently owned by WB. This also means that Kong and the other titans in the Monsterverse are also in this. This was a pretty fun crossover with the feeling of just smashing Godzilla and DC toys together in battles, although it's not my favorite as I would talk about that comic at a later time. Highlights being the massive titan fight in Gotham with Batman piloting a Bat-Mech and the help of the Batfamily against a huge bat titan, Aquaman fighting Godzilla in Atlantis by unleashing the freaking Kraken, Gorilla Grodd and his army of gorillas praising Kong and see him as their god, and Lex Luthor creating Mechagodzilla. Sadly, I did miss the first issue which has Godzilla defeating Superman in surprising fashion. There was also that moment of Kong becoming a Green Lantern, which is cool... but it was at the cost of Guy Gardner's death. I was surprised by how he died since I thought he could live through that, but it turns out he did die and that just sucks, especially as I also like Guy. So, I had to detract some points because of it. Otherwise, it was a fun series, with a sequel coming out next year and now including Rodan, King Ghidora, and Mothra to my knowledge, so I may check that out.

My Adventures with Superman #1-5 (Campbell/Collar): I absolutely LOVE seasons 1 and 2 of MAWS and how it portrays the Superman cast as well as the amazing animation, writing, and the romance in it. So, when I heard about a comic series that's a tie-in to this show written by the show's creator, I was hooked from the start! Being set between seasons 1 and 2 during Christmas, this has Clark, Lois, and Jimmy helping a good Amazo escape from Checkmate led by agent DuBois, better known as Bloodsport in the mainline comics and in Gunn's the Suicide Squad. This is a pretty good series that features characters that aren't seen in MAWS but are at least mentioned, like with Checkmate. I'm not sure if they'll show up in the future or not, but I do hope I get to see the good Amazo again, he is actually adorable, and I hope he'll be ok by the end. A really good read that will satiate my wait for the upcoming season 3 of the show that I can't wait for, especially since it'll feature Konnor!

Really good reads here, especially with World's Finest, and I can't wait for Waid's JLU and the entirety of the Absolute Universe. I've already read Absolute Batman #1, and I've already got Absolute Superman #1. Sadly, I missed out on getting Absolute Wonder Woman, so I have to wait for the 2nd printing. When I do get that 2nd printing, I will do a similar review as I did with Marvel's recent Ultimate universe.

Sorry again for the late review as again, it was due to university work and the growing anxiety that I sometimes feel. But I hope to still continue writing on my appreciation for comics, for the next reviews will be on independent brand comics, with a certain universe based on transforming robots and armies, and other miscellaneous but licensed books as well.

[savyir-genesizz-the-wizard]

-19- Rebirth

ACCESS: CLOSED DECRYPTION KEY: 01DKR90R4T$COG-411 REP #: WQS-CRT SUBJ: Note 8174

It's difficult for me to write about my latest discovery.

It started just a couple days ago when I went into… hiding… in this terrible place. It started as a hunt from recics from the pyramid. Of course this was all very interesting and brought me back on the hunt from a certain signal from the Edge of our Solar System that I used to follow many years ago. I'll update on this soon.

What I've been meaning to really write about is… a certain Scorn. I started seeing tchem outside of my camp but I've quickly took notice of their solitude and odd (for an undead that is) posturę and behaviour. Thay haven't approached me agressively. We talked! I talked with a Scorn - and not one of the ones created by the Echo - a regular Scorn turned from a captain. Their inteligence was akin to that of the barrons that the one they call The Guardian slain on the Tangled Shore. Their memory was blurry but they said that they remembered me in some way - the man I was before becoming a guardian myself.

They asked me to help them escape the court to Earth and I

What? Dun, I'm making a recording. Who? WHO? She's here? Oh, on Traveler's Wounds…

[bunnakit]

last twilight ep 5 thoughts feelings etc.

eyy actually watched this earlier and rewatching it, so things should be a little less feral and unhinged. actually took notes my first watch through as well (wtf am i doing)

once again i love how stories are our constant companions in this show. i love how they keep playing with the parallels between worlds, it's one of my absolute favorite things in storytelling.

i love the fact that day is now 'invisible' in the world of badminton but he can still experience all of the joy of the game by supporting his friends. badminton was such a big part of his life and he doesn't have to leave it all behind, he just experiences it a little differently now.

film is so fucking pretty even covered in 'sweat.' i do love the show let her be 'sweaty' and disheveled instead of having perfect hair and make up after what was clearly a hard game. GIVE ME SWEATY WOMEN. (god im so gay)

so i said it last week but the only time we've ever seen mhok be violent is when he's been protecting the people close to him. (his garage bro, porjai x 2, etc) and we see him ready to do it again when august confronts day. there is no doubt in my mind that mhok was fully prepared to bury that bitch for even daring to make day the slightest bit afraid.

and god how scary does that have to be? you can't see, you're already nervous to be here, and suddenly someone is shouting at you - and maybe you don't recognize them at first because you haven't heard their voice in over a year but all you know is they're coming closer and they're so angry. i can't imagine anything scarier than that.

ahh, a broken picture frame representing a broken bond, an absolute classic metaphor. an oldie but a goodie.

once again i love that we see day's rage. anger really is such a big part of coming to terms with being disabled. i got some bad news a few weeks ago about my own disease and i've spent the last few weeks so angry and frustrated and then just sad. it's such a complex journey and the show is doing an absolutely brilliant job of showing that.

i do owe day's family a small smidgen of an apology since day is the one that asked it to be kept a secret, HOWEVER, i do think that conversation should have been revisited after a fucking year. how long were they just going to let him live in isolation? like cool for respecting his agency, not cool for letting him waste away in a tomb of his own making.

FINALLY WE GET MHOK OPENING UP.

so here's the thing with mhok. i love him. no - the real thing is i see so much of myself in him. my friends and family constantly get frustrated with me because i will never tell them when something is wrong or when i'm shouldering a lot of emotions about something. when i got the bad news about my disease i hid in my office and cried at my desk and then cleaned myself up and pretended nothing happened. fuck, i feel like i understand mhok on such a deep level.

not to get too into it but my own habits stem from neglect in my formative years, and i have to wonder if mhok's behavior maybe stems from his isolation in prison? oftentimes people with these behavior patterns will self isolate, either deal with or bury their emotions, and then emerge back into their friend group as if nothing happened. (am i talking about myself again? shhh.) mhok didn't really have a choice - sure you can write letters, have visitors, but a large part of his day was probably handling his grief in solitude. he's probably gotten so good at "handling it" and pushing everything down and dealing with everything in silence that he doesn't know how to handle it any other way now.

to make things worse, it happened over a year ago. he probably feels like he should be "over it" and not make it a big deal. maybe i'm projecting just a smidge (just a lot) but i do think it's something interesting to keep in mind. either way, him finally talking about rung to day is fucking MASSIVE, both for their relationship and mhok's emotional wellbeing.

august is fucking king of mixed signals and i don't super like that he looked for mhok's permission to lead day through the court. why the fuck are you looking at mhok when you could just ask day? if you look closely, as mhok is letting go day curls his fingers around the hand that mhok uses to remove his hand from his arm.

i do love we see mhok pushing day a little more out of his comfort zone as he did in earlier episodes.

porjai is so fucking pretty. is there anything more attractive than a woman in shorts and an oversized band tee? no. no there is not.

and again we see how much time and effort mhok has put into being day's caretaker - and his friend. he did research and learned methods that would make dining out easier for day. i love him so much! i don't know how day could still be thinking about august after that adorable little date.

UGH OKAY SO. HERE'S WHERE WE GET INTO MY BIG FEELINGS.

in my opinion, the theme of this episode has been "being late." here's why.

the boys were very nearly, or were, late to gee's badminton game

you could consider mhok 'late' to tell day about rung

day thinks he's too late to confess to august

mhok realizes he's come into day's life too late to receive his affection

and then we have august's literal late arrival (i still dont know what fucking game this jackass is playing)

this also ties in to a little trend i've been noticing in regards to mhok that oftentimes he's too late in life.

he was too late to save rung, and learned of her death late

he was too late to receive the mechanic job as it had 'already been given to someone else'

he was a late arrival to the interview to become day's caretaker

and again, he's entered day's life too late to receive his affection (or so he thinks)

i genuinely don't know if this is intentional, but i think it's something interesting to draw connections to.

anyway, again, i dont know what the fuck august's deal is but i can tell you if i was day i'd be getting over my feelings for him real fucking quick. i don't super like that august shows up, hears about day's feelings, and asks mhok to keep his being there a secret - but i do understand it and i do understand mhok's side of things. i don't think he does it out of his own selfishness, i think rather he realizes august likely doesn't return day's affection and letting him think august didn't show up is possibly the kinder of the two scenarios. (my only hope is we don't see august return and try to woo day or something later with this knowledge)

i do love that mhok stayed. he was concerned and it might seem a little overbearing but day was clearly nervous for this outing and all in all it's good that he stayed. and then he made sure to salvage the evening for day and take him out on a proper date. maybe it's not the date day wanted but it looks like he had a great time (perhaps even a better time) spending a day with someone he could relax and be himself around.

flowers have so many different meanings across cultures and tbh i'm far to tired to dig into the thai meaning of hydrangeas (if there are any) but i do think hydrangeas are neat. this is prob common knowledge but the color of hydrangea petals is determined by the ph balance in the soil they're grown in. (blue hydrangeas grow in soil with a ph balance of 5.2-5.5, far more in the base range than red hydrangeas that grow in a ph balance of 6.0-6.2, and once the soil reaches acidic levels it tends to produce pink flowers) i guess maybe if you wanted you could draw a connection to how malleable mhok is becoming and how his environment is changing him.

scientifically, sunflowers are also an interesting flower because they are often used to heal damaged and irradiated soil. they're so fucking resilient and help heal the world around them. i think there's a lot of connections we can make there with both mhok and day, regardless of flower symbolism and going purely on science.

anyway sorry to be a science nerd.

that's all ive really got for this episode, i say, as if i have not written you all a novel. this show continues to make me feel so much and tickle my brain in such a delightful way. between this and moonlight chicken p'aof has definitely made me a fan for life.

tag loves: @benkaaoi | @callipigio | @lookwhatihave (once again pls always feel free to lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

Y'all want Arewennar content? Of course you want Arewennar content. Here's some Wenny content, plus a brief moment including the dragonborn for their au

It had been a long time coming, really.

If their parents knew they'd call the decision brash, childish.

It was quite possibly the most mature and thought out thing Arewennar had ever done.

And the death sentence they had been written became their saving grace, not a single person had questioned why they'd been packing.

They bit their tongue and played nice while they waited for their chance, had dinners with their 'future wife', went to training as usual, did everything their parents said without a word of dissent. They were on the ledge of salvation, they just needed a chance to climb the barricades and jump.

They had to.

Their parents had no regard for them, their 'fiance' wanted them as a pawn, they no longer believed in a war they had no other way to leave.

They knew the fate that waited if they didn't run.

A steady climb through the ranks of the Thalmor military, a name stained in blood, children they would not want who they could not save.

They sacrificed themself or everything they knew, those were the choices laid out.

They had been sacrificing themself for long enough.

Liarumferna had taken Arewennar's parents to some Thalmor party, Wen had hung back at training, hoping to be left behind.

It paid off. They came home to an empty house. They changed out of their armor, considered putting up their bow...

It was only glass. Strong and sure, but glass nonetheless. It reminded them of themself in a way, fragile, yet created to draw blood.

It would never draw blood for the Thalmor again, and neither would Wen.

Their helmet was probably sturdy enough...

It took shockingly little effort to leave the thing in pieces on the living room floor, and then they gathered the bag of essentials they'd prepared, and left.

Arewennar used to sneak out before they graduated basic training, spend summer nights finding trouble with friends, the usual dumb kid shit.

Now they left the house on an all too similar summer night, to find a new life.

The trek from Solitude all the way to the Windhelm docks was long, and the cloak they wore did less than they'd hoped to hide their face.

The Northern Maiden was a fine looking ship, and would take Arewennar well away from everything they were running from.

However when they approached the captain-

"If you're looking for passage to Solstheim, too bad. I'm not going back there anymore."

"What-then how am I meant to get there?" Arewennar was taken aback, so what? The only ship to Solstheim just... Wasn't going to Solstheim anymore?

"None of my concern, if I never see that rock again it'll still be too soon."

Arewennar paused, before, "What's your usual rate? I'll pay you double."

The man looked at them, and hesitated before, "Alright, money has to be made... My usual rate is 250, 500 septims and we're off." At this moment Arewennar was really wishing they had more than 900 septims to their name at the moment.

Fantastic.

Nonetheless they counted out and handed over the coin, and the captain shouted to his crew to prepare for departure.

Right before they left port Wen saw a women, a bosmer in some steel armor, running towards the docks, "Hey wait! You're going to Solstheim, right?" She shouted, almost tripping when she scrambled onboard.

The captain sighed, "Yes, passage is 250 septims."

"No 'sorry I almost got you killed' discount? Really?" ... What was she talking about?

"I've never seen you before, I haven't done a thing to you."

"But you did transport cultists here who wanted my head on a pike." She fixed the man with a steely glare, and he looked as if she'd just informed him of a ghost and not a couple old passengers.

"... I swear it wasn't intentional-I can't recall a thing about my last trip out, I almost wasn't willing to do it again because of that."

She just stared at him for a moment, he sort of shrunk into himself.

"... 150."

"Deal." And with an exchange of coin, the journey to a new life began.

Arewennar had never taken the time to just watch the ocean before.

It was beautiful.

And for once they couldn't wait to see what was in store for them next.