#i wouldnt even do anything crazy with it like hed have his life id have mine. Thats my thing abt like um stuff like this with specifically

[itsalwaysdark]

i wish i had an exact copy of myself. sigh

[tinydailysteps]

Its been a while since i wrote an update on here and though im grateful for a lot, i really needed time to reflect on whats been going on.

Tw Sexual assault and (idk if this is even valid for a tw but) emotional abuse

Today was the first time i accepted the truth of the relationship i was in. I was both sexually assaulted and emotionally abused.

I always thought those words held too much power. That they were too big not to be noticed yet here i am, months after, just now accepting the truth for what it is.

My ex lied to me about his character, pretending to be someone hes not and posing to be authentic to get me to be with him.. then openly admitted to doing so. At the time i thought he was kidding and that he meant he put effort cause he liked me.. i now realize that he studied me enough to know what i was looking for and became that but only until he got me wrapped around his finger. Once i was, id essentially be willing to do anything to stay there cause the rope that held me felt like the only thing that did. Though tightening around my neck it really did feel like the only support i had.

I hate that i was the first to initiate a kiss. What started as so innocent quickly turned into expectations of sexual favour. At first, giving him a blowjob meant satisfying him. "Its not a big deal" hed say. Eventually it became him wanting to return the favour despite me not being comfortable with it. I always thought that oral was about satisfying the other person yet everytime i felt even more scared. But still i thought it was normal since we were together.

During sleepovers id wake up with his hands between my legs and him grinding against me. I thought the fact that i was wet meant i wanted it. I didnt. And despite me physically pushing his hands away from him and saying no, his hands found their way back. Objects shouldnt have opinions, theyre meant to be used. I felt like an object during those times and i really wish it was just once. At this point even being in my own bed irks me. Seeing every street we walked, park we sat in and hearing every song from that time with him hurts. What hurts the most though is that i was dumb enough to lower my standards to nothing for him. To turn my own boundaries and limitations into light suggestions. I shouldve left and i honestly dont know why i didnt. I hate that i blame myself but i really do. I blame myself for every second i spent trying to make a relationship with an assaulter work. With the person who assaulted me.

If you read this so far, thank you for hearing me out. Though i doubt he'll ever see this, id like to dedicate the next bit to the piece of shit i once thought was the love of my life.

Dear J,

as much as id like to say i hate you i cant. Im disgusted by the person you turned out to be but the idealised version of you still lives in my head. Every once in a while i need to remind myself of every way you harmed me to realize that that version only exists in my mind and that the person who stood in front of me was an exact opposite.

You were a sexist. Always talking about what women should wear or do yet clinging to the one success you had in highschool as evidence of your manliness. I remember the countless arguments about "feminism" and why you found it to be such an issue that i identified as a femist. "Its racist against guys", you said. As if i didnt just reminded you that feminism by definition is equality between genders. Said that women and men have their roles and need to stick to them. Well, here i am telling you that you failed at the one thing you thought was right. If your definition of being a man is to provide, care and be the strong one in the relationship, you failed miserably. On normal circumstances i wouldnt give you shit for that but since you're you, you deserve to know that by your own definition you are not a man. By mine, youre just a shitty person. It took my a while after our break up to rekindle my love for feminism. To recognize that im not confined by the expectations of a man, or anyone else for the matter. I was even surprised to see that i was stronger and smarter than i let myself be during our relationship but i guess i wanted to let you feel like something youre not. Yes i grabbed that out of crazy rich asians cause ive never related to anything more.

Lets talk about your racism too. Youre constant need to act "black" yet criticism of the people. Cornrows, rap, streetwear, even words that dont belong to you, youd want. I remember the first time i heard you say the n word. It flew out of your mouth like it was nothing. Id applaud you for agreeing to stop saying it but that would be applauding previous idiocy and ignorance as well as the bare minimum. You still refer to immigrant workers with the lowest of terms. Youre still a racist. That i couldnt change.

While were talking about lack of respect, lets talk about family. As a person who spoke of that being the most important thing, you sure do disrespect your parents often. Im no one to judge family dynamics but act on what you preach. Talking shit about your mum is not respect and neither is shouting at her through the phone after she asks you the most basic of questions about YOUR well being. Again, youre a piece of shit.

I could go on and on listing things you might not even realize but its not my job to tell you what you lack. Just in case you were wondering though, its a lot.

Safe to say that i wish i never met you. Some might say "oh but you learned a lot!" but the damage youve inflicted on me is something ill need years to work on yet i know that you walked away with no remorse or lessons.

I hope you grow or rot in hell. Whatever comes first. Point is, stay the fuck away from me.

With utmost disgust,

Y.

[dilsdoes]

dont reblog

how do i feel about what i have been through. ive been through a lot, but how do i feel.

i am so incredibly angry at j for taking away so much of my childhood. im so confused because we were both kids, the same age, but she ruined me so much. im so scared of being vulnerable and trusting someone to take care of me because i just remember giving so much over and over and over and never expecting anything in return, because thats not why i gave, never getting anything back anyway. id give vulnerability and get nothing back. shed ditch me all the time, shed beg me to do things with her for support and then when i asked her to do the same she ditched.

i dont know if ill ever forgive my dad for all the broken promises. i will never forget how scared i was watching him slam on our door demanding my mother come out so his family could "come see his witch of an ex wife" while i stood, 10 years old and terrified, and they asked him to stop. ill never forget how he hit me hard enough i fell to the ground and then acted like it didnt make sense that i was upset. it doesnt make sense why hed be confused why i wouldnt want to be alone with him when hes hit me and my mom and threatened to hit me before. ill never forgive him for refusing to pay to feed me, just to make my mother mad, ill never forgive him for accepting an invitation i had to fucking beg for, to bend the rules for him, only for him to not show. ill never fucking forgive him for forcing me to sit all night next to an empty fucking chair. i hate him so much and i hate how much everyone treats me like im crazy for hating him when he hates my mother so much more than he loves me. he doesnt make any sense and he knows it and i hate him. i hate him so much. he used to be my dad. he used to be my fucking dad.

im hungry. we have no food, although well do groceries tomorrow. we often have no or very little food, and even less that i can eat. i feel guilty for wanting things, even food, and i feel disgusting for being guilty. i feel disgusting for being anything at all most days. i wish i was a robot so id never let anyone down. i wish i never needed anything, not water or words, and i could just be what everyone needed. i wish i was perfect so people would stop being mad, so i would stop hurting people, so people would stop being hurt. i hate being human and having needs because i cant do what everyone wants. i hate myself so much, i wish i was something better. i wish i was a perpetual motion machine, whirring away, pretty and clean, i wish i was everything and nothing at all, i wish i was huge and impossibly small.

sometimes i get scared that im not being me withtb my girlfriend, but i dont know who i am. like ill edit a text 3 times before sending it but i do it immediately without noticing. i do this on tiktok and twitter too. i do it everywhere. its so hard to let my guard down when people never know its up.

i feel disgusting. i dont care that its not the right feeling, i feel disgusting and repulsive and wrong all the time, and i know it doesnt make sense but i feel like the most repulsive thing in the world, a pitiful thing, a sorry thing, everyone thinks im so naive and stupid and at this point its probably because i am. im so repulsive. i wish i could scoop my insides out so i dont have to be in here anymore. i wish i could just crack my ribs open and let all of me out, like those spreaders they use for open heart surgery, like an angel maker, i feel so horrible and awful, i just feel wrong all the time and i hate myself so much. i hate myself so fucking much. what am i? what am i? sometimes i hate myself so much i want to throw up because its the closest i can get to scooping my insides out. i wish i could be someone else. i wish i was perfect. i wish i was perfect. i wish so much and every day that i was perfect in every way just so that i could stop wanting wrong things all the time. i hate myself so much. its impossible to be perfect, but i have to be. i have to be. i have to be. i have to be.

i almost died several times in my life. i didnt let myself think about how much i was going through when i was hospitalized. i remember a nurse asked me how i was doing and i said fine, and she asked if i was sure because id said i was fine every day since i came here and i said yes and she said well, a few days ago you tried to kill yourself, and i said, without a hint of irony, "yeah but that was days ago. its passed now." and i just. god i almost died. i could have died. i swallowed 28 pills with the intent of just. something. anything. i just needed some help. i needed help so fucking bad, amd i didnt know what i needed. and my mother watched me pop them out and asked my if i was going to kill myself because she was saying something i didnt like and i just needed some fucking help. i didnt know what but everything was always falling apart and i needed some fucking help. i needed some fucking help. i needed so much help. i got it but i look back at all the ways i asked for help over and over and over again and just said "i need help. i dont know what to do but i tried to swallow a handful of pills. i dont know what to do but i think im depressed. i dont know what to do but i feel like a failure at all times" and i was just told i was overreacting. every feeling is an overreaction. "what am i supposed to do about it?" im hungry, im tired, im hurting, im anxious, "what am i supposed to do about it?" jesus christ i dont fucking know, im 16 and youre 60, please god just help me. just listen to me, just hear the words im saying and dont tell me im lying, just believe me when i say im in pain.

i dont know when im in pain anymore. i cant trust anything unless someone else confirms it. i hate it when people make jokes questioning the reality of something when im specifically asking if its true. i just want things to exist. like theyre not real if its just me. i dont count. i dont matter. my opinion isnt worth shit. please. please give me this. please help me. i feel pain and i just live with it until it stops and then i realise i was in pain. because its gone. once my mom tried to convince me to run on a broken ankle. i dont feel real on my own and im trying so hard to but god almighty its so hard when im still surrounded by people who tell me im wrong.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

secrets (2/2) izzy stradlin x reader

+++++++++

part 1 part 2

tour is over, its been about two months since it ended. you all are finally back to your own places in LA and youve been back and forth with izzy ever since, spending much more time with him as well as all the gnr guys. the aftermath finally caught up with you though.

song: forgive me mother by the relentless

tag list: @cynic-spirit @satans-arse

+++++++++

"hey mike can i ask you a question?"

i looked over at duff who wasnt really paying attention. i was hoping if i used his real name he would understand i had something important to say. it didnt. he kept moving his fingers against his bass, strumming it and nodding his head back and forth.

"mikey?"

i asked again but still nothing.

"Micheal!"

i practically yelled and he looked up at me shocked.

"jeez y/n cant you see im busy? what?"

i huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, sinking further into the couch.

"i have a question."

he looked over at me like 'really?'

"okay?"

he said unamused.

"do you think im a good person?"

i said a little shy. he drew his brows together before setting his bass down.

"of course, youre like a sister to me."

he said and i shook my head.

"thats not what i meant."

he looked at me a little concerned.

"wheres all this coming from?"

he asked, sitting back and really looking at me. i shrugged.

"i have a secret that i really want to tell you but im scared."

he placed his hand gently on my thigh, squeezing it.

"you know you can talk to me about anything but if its to much you dont have to."

i nodded.

"duffy i-"

i closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. then the front door swung open, snatching my attention. iz and axl both walked in, izzy sending me a weird look noticing duffs hand still on my leg. they both walked down the hallway away from us.

"ill tell you later."

i said, standing and walking to the kitchen.

"okay."

he said softly, watching me leave. i stepped behind the wall for a second and took a deep breath, hearing him strum his bass again. if i couldnt even tell duff, how the hell was i supposed to talk to izzy about this. i walked slowly to the fridge and looked in it, frowning.

"god, do we have anything here other than alcohol?"

i complained, slamming the door shut.

"its never been a problem before."

izzy said sternly, making me jump as he watched me from across the room sipping his beer. i hadnt really noticed him there when i walked in and was wondering if he had really been there that long. i could have swore he went to the back room with axl. i shook my head of the thought and sat down at the table.

"maybe i want something different for once. is that a problem?"

i asked, picking at the doily under the napkin holder. he shrugged and sat across from me, crossing one leg over the other.

"i guess not."

he kind of snapped back. i frowned at him.

"you okay iz?"

he seemed a little off but then again maybe i was just projecting my own feelings onto him.

"yeah im great, why do you ask?"

he said a little coldly and i drew my brows, looking down at the table. i knew we were a secret and all but he didnt have to be mean about it. hed never been like this with me before.

"i dont know, you just seem a little mad."

i said softly, not wanting to actually anger him. he took a long sip of his beer.

"nope just ready to be alone i guess."

he sent me a knowing look and i immediately knew what he wanted. part of me wanted it to but i had more pressing matters to attend to. besides, duff and ax where still here and we wouldnt be able to get away with much, specially not the way he made me scream the last few times.

"alone doesnt sound like a bad idea."

i said back, noting the glimmer of hope in his eyes as he smirked at me, taking another drink.

"hey, slash called and we're gonna meet him and steven to eat, you two coming?"

duff said, poking his head into the kitchen.

"uh no im good, im not hungry."

i said looking over at him and he nodded.

"how bout you iz?"

he side nodded.

"no, ill stay here with y/n, we can go grab something later."

duff nodded once.

"okay."

he said disappearing behind the wall again. i thought for a second before standing and walking to the doorway, watching him and axl leave, waving goodbye before he closed the door. then i felt a looming behind me and it didnt take long for his hands to find their way to my hips.

"so, alone time..."

he said softly, leaning down and nuzzling his nose into my neck. i sighed out as he began kissing there, his thumbs rubbing circles into my sides. then, without warning he spun me around and connected our lips, kissing me deeply. i wrapped my one arm around his shoulders before remembering what i really needed to do and pushed him away.

"wait."

i breathed and he moved in for another kiss.

"i said wait."

i smiled at him, free hand firmly against his chest.

"c'mon, i missed you."

he protested kissing my cheek a few times, slowly moving to my neck.

"i have something to tell you first."

he hummed against me, his hands making their way to my ass and sliding into my back jean pockets. my eyes went wide as he looked at me a little confused, pulling what was in there out. my heart rate increased as he looked down at it with his brows furrowed.

"surprise?"

i said carefully, trying to study him. he just stared at it for a second, not letting me go.

"wait, y/n what is this?"

he looked up at me. i cleared my throat, feeling his hand remove itself from my waist as he held the picture with both hands now.

"what does it look like?"

he looked down at it again then back up at me and his face fell.

"this isnt what i think it is right? you arent?"

i scratched the back of my neck nervously.

"it is, and i am."

his mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish. his hand found its way into his hair, his eyes getting wide as he stumbled back.

"wait."

he said shaking his head.

"i need to process this for a second."

i sent him an odd look.

"izzy are you okay?"

he shook his head no and went back to the table, sitting down and staring at the photo.

"youre... pregnant."

he said slowly. i walked to him and placed my hand gently on his shoulder.

"yep."

i said a little worried now.

"who's is it?"

he asked looking up at me. i sent him a look.

"do you really need to ask?"

he let out a staggered breath and looked back down at the photo sitting on the table.

"so it is mine."

he affirmed with himself and nodded a few times, very slowly. he turned his head back to me and of course my stomach was eye level with him. he looked up at me for a second before wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my stomach, never once breaking eye contact.

"i know ive never said it before cause we are so on the down low we are basically nonexistent but i love you. so much."

he said sincerely, standing up and placing his hands firmly at my back, pulling me closer to him. i smiled at him, tears stinging my eyes.

"i love you too Jeffrey."

i said softly, placing my hand against his cheek. he picked me up quickly and sat me on the table, leaning down and kissing me deeply.

"what the fuck?"

i heard and both our attention snapped to the kitchen doorway, duff standing there with a shocked expression on his face.

"i thought you were getting dinner with slash."

i said, eyes wide.

"i forgot my wallet. and hey! i thought you two were just friends!"

he torted back.

"not anymore."

izzy said, holding the picture of the sonogram up.

"im gonna be a dad."

he said endearingly, looking back down at me with a wide smile across his lips.

"youre pregnant?!"

duff practically screamed, walking into the kitchen and taking the picture from izzy. i nodded.

"thats what i wanted to tell you earlier."

he looked up at me, a distressed look on his face.

"my fake sister is pregnant with the child of my bands guitarist."

he said unbelievably, making me giggle.

"duffy its not a big deal."

he looked at me like i was crazy

"not a big deal? youre pregnant! this is life changing!"

"wait, y/n's pregnant?"

i heard slash say, the rest of the band coming into view behind him. i face palmed, making izzy laugh as duff moved to sit in the chair, looking over the sonogram again.

"alright, since everyone's here now, yes i am pregnant."

i said, looking over slash, axl, and steven as they walked into the kitchen. slash took the sonogram from duff and looked down at it, duffs fingers tangling in his messy blonde hair.

"who's the father?"

slash asked looking over at me, izzy still stood between my legs, looking smug as ever. he was still waiting for an answer though so i just pointed to iz.

"no."

he said, shocked.

"congrats."

steve said, walking over and half hugging me the best he could with izzy still in the way.

"thanks."

i said smiling at him. izzy faked hurt and frowned.

"hey, i had a part in this too."

he protested, axl coming over and slapping him on the back.

"oh we know. you dog!"

i laughed and hid my face in my hands.

"ya know, we were having a nice moment. what happened to you all getting dinner together?"

they all looked around at each other and shrugged.

"couldnt decide who would buy so we tried to pool together cash but duff left his wallet here. we came back to get it, he was taking too long so we came in to investigate why and now we all know the big news."

axl narrated.

"now i feel like you two have to come with us, as a celebration dinner."

slash said. i looked over at duff who still seemed like he was having a crisis.

"what do you say iz? celebratory 'we're expecting' dinner?"

he nodded, kissing me gently.

"id love that."

[rowanelliis]

hey hi hello i’m SLATER ( they/them ), twenty-five, currently living my worst life on the left coast ( pst ). i bring to you my twitchy, lonely son, ROWAN. he’s a part-time antique lover, part-time dishwasher, full-time ghost whisperer. ( or something like that,, we’ll get to it later. ) he fills the alone ranger plot, and you can find his bio/questionnaire HERE  &&  some quick stats HERE. follow me under the cut for a TL;DR bio and wanted connections !! @phqextras​

oh hello again ! as promised, here is the summarized bio, bc i get that it’s long and you have shit to do. that said ! if possible, i would really love if you read THE BIO before/instead of this. it’s just,,, better. and better is better.  anyway, here we go !

rowan was born in pleasance to a 22 yo anita ellis and a father who bounced shortly thereafter, but we don’t care about him

he sees dead people! always has. they vary in shape from faded human to amorphous eldritch horror, and they’re supremely unhelpful. they mostly dont talk and the ones who do dont really answer what youre saying, they just say whatever they want. they moan a lot tho. its annoying. he hates them. kinda.

anita was a fraudulent fortuneteller and genuine psychic. she just knew stuff. rowan figures whatever he is, he got it from her.

he loves her sm guys. she was the mf BEST MOM. we’re talking blanket forts. we’re talking homemade stews. we’re talking going to alby’s to try on outrageous outfits they couldn’t afford and then shoplifting some little treasure to delight rowan with on the way out. the BEST.

when he was eleven, he spent an afternoon in the sequoia grove and when he got back he learned that to everyone else, hed been missing for five days

so that was a whole thing

following a years-long downward spiral of her mental health, anita showed up at rowans high school in the midst of a full-on psychotic episode. he was taken away by cps almost immediately and sent to a group home a couple towns over.

when he got back to pleasance at eighteen, she was gone. missing, not dead.

since then hes been devoted to the cause of finding her but its been eleven fucking years and no one else seems to care so he do get down abt it sometimes

his main theory is that it has something to do with the sequoia grove. he thinks that maybe whatever happened to him as a kid happened to her, but on a larger scale.

he currently lives in the house that he grew up in and that his grandparents built, a giant ugly thing that hasnt been updated in any way since the 70s

hes bad at holding a job. hes bad at feeding himself. hes bad at sleeping. hes bad at forming and maintaining relationships. basically, hes bad at being an adult human.

ok so maybe he doesnt see ghosts. maybe his mom wasnt psychic. maybe theyre just crazy. that is a possibility. but its also possible its true. you dont know. leave him alone

ok now the fun part ! here are some connections id like to see for rowan:

actual friends (one or two, three TOPS. hes a loner ok)

i honestly debated whether i wanted him to have any close friends at all but yknow what! hes been in this town for nearly 30 damn years he can treat himself to a friend or two. these would be people who believe him, or at least have an open mind. they could be from way back or more recently. just people he’s comfortable around, and maybe goes to specifically for comfort. he needs a lot more of that than he’s getting.

hookups (past or present)

i think hes kind of slutty?? not in any active kind of way, hes definitely not aggressive or even confident, but he’s so starved for affection that i think he’d have a hard time saying no to anyone offering it. his sexuality is Undeclared but Not Straight, so he’s up for grabs. he’s also weak for...... how do you say..... les milfs. i mean he would never use that word but it is what it is. mommy issues doesnt even begin to cover it. on a related note! if your character is on the amoral side of the spectrum, this guy would be wildly easy to manipulate. just like, brush his hair with your fingers or call him good or whatever. he’s Weak.

exes (maybe one serious, no more than a couple more casual)

here are some great reasons to dump rowan:

will not remember your birthday or anniversary or anything

obsessed w his mom

sometimes sleeps with his eyes open which is creepy as Fuck

usually broke

lives in that fucking house

kissed someone else at your birthday party bc they had really pretty eyes and were standing really close and kinda smiled at him and he got overwhelmed

routinely talks to the air, sometimes aggressively. thinks hes covert abt it. is not.

love interests (look im not actually into planning ships it just felt fair to rowan to balance this out a little)

here are some great reasons to date rowan:

will never, ever laugh at you or make you feel small

will give small, thoughtful gifts for no reason

cute floppy hair, doe eyes

once he feels safe with you, he will do anything for you, any time, forever

lives in that fucking house

you never knew a kiss could make you feel so wanted

maybe he’s special, you know? maybe he’s just something special

( ok that was gay ! now back to your regularly scheduled programming )

people who think he’s crazy (as many as possible tbh)

i know weve got a lot of believers here but honestly,,, even among believers i think hes kind of an outcast. the mf talks to himself. there are like 8 agreed upon stories around town and hes seen waaaaaay more ghosts than that. and non-belevers?? fuggedaboutit. i kinda see this as part of the reason he was rejected from the mystery gang. maybe someone it was like ‘ok im into checking this stuff out but that guys fucking nuts’. idk. what is life without struggle?? without conflict?? boring.

people who are using him for the story (whoever wants)

this could be a writer or reporter, but it could also just be someone whos interested in this kind of stuff. OR again, could be a non-believer who just thinks its entertaining to watch him. could be honest about their motives or straight up manipulating him into thinking theyre a friend or whatever. pretty open, i just think he would be a figure of interest to certain people.

someone who was present when his mom showed up at the high school (someones?)

this isn’t even a connection really so much as just A Thing I Want. i want someone who saw a tiny, angry-crying sixteen year old rowan drag his screaming mother down the hall of the science wing with their own two eyes. student, teacher, visiting alumni, parent or sibling who was at the school for some reason idk. maybe they pitied him and approached him later. maybe it was the thing that made someone decide hes a lost cause. it doesnt even have to ever come up. i just want someone to have that image in their brain. i want them to see it when they see what a mess he is now.

a final note! when rowan was a kid he was pretty open about the ghost stuff, mostly because his mom always believed him w/out question and he didn’t know it was something to hide. after the whole woods incident and the reaction of cps + the cops to his story, he learned to keep that shit to himself. unless he knows your character well, he probably wouldnt have discussed it w them directly. however! anyone around his age might remember the stuff he talked about as a kid or his mom showing up at the school (honestly that was dramatic enough the story may live on in the halls of nwhs today in some form or another). anyone around his moms age (40-50) might know how woo-y and sketchy she and her child were. there are certainly rumors about both of them. also, most people have probably seen him behaving strangely, ie. suddenly rerouting on the sidewalk to walk around what seems like nothing, telling something to fuck off under his breath, or just flitting his eyes over to a seemingly empty space over and over. he really does try to appear as normal as possible, but it’s difficult. i think most people see more than he knows, and more than he would like them to.

[ellana-ravenwood]

Salt, Tequila, Lemon - Jason Todd x Reader

Please read this intro, thank you very much :  

So. I posted this yesterday, but after a bug on the Tumblr app on my phone it got deleted. I’m super bummed out because it had over 200 notes and quite a few feedbacks that I never got to read because it was accidentally deleted...If the people that took the time to comment things on the story could take a bit more time to write a little comment again and give me their feedbacks, and also if the people that liked and reblog could do it once more...i’d appreciate the hell out of you <3.  So reposting it (thanks god I always have back ups of all my stories now). Written in twenty minutes during my break at work. Bam. Hope you’ll like it :

Also, since Tumblr’s new guidelines and enforcement of it, I DON’T really appear in searches anymore, so the only way for this story to be seen by others than those who follow me is to reblog it. So if you wanna, you can show your support for my writing by doing just that. Thanks very much. You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

_________________________________________________

Ok. So. Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Oh, right. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Got it. Licking the back of your hand to make the salt stick to it, you pour yourself a massive shot of “To-Kill-Ya” in your coffee mug, not even caring about the fact that there is still some remnant of your cappuccino from last night in it. 

You focus on the sound the liquid makes as it fills your cup. Makes you think about something else. Good. Yup. This was totally gonna help right now. 

“Cheers”, you exclaim to yourself, your empty apartment echoing your voice. 

Salt. 

Wincing. Stingy. Salt on its own is gross. 

Tequila. 

More wincing. Oh my god, it burns. The coffee that was still at the bottom of the cup is an oddly nice touch. 

Lemon. 

The last of the Wincing. 

You spit the piece of lemon you just bit into in the trash and…miss. The yellow fruit falls with a little flat sound on the floor, and you honestly can’t bother to pick it up. Your apartment is a mess anyway, so you just stare at it angrily and pour yourself another drink. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

You gulp the last of the citrus and shiver. Miss the trash again. 

Damn. This was good. 

Well, actually, it was disgusting. 

You didn’t like strong alcohol and what the Hell ?! Why did you leave a bit of coffee in your cup ? Now that the aftertaste was kicking in, it was actually really gross. If the tequila itself didn’t make you wanna throw up, the stale coffee taste nearly did. Oh, and the salt and lemon combination was as awful as ever. 

You really didn’t like salt, tequila, or lemon. 

But it was still good. 

Because thanks to all this immediate awfulness, you could slowly feel yourself drift into “haze land”, and forget about your worries. 

Forget that your boyfriend of two years just cheated on you with some random woman you worked with. Woman that, by the way, he met at the Christmas “end of the year” party from you work you invited him to…You gave him free champagne and mise-en-bouche and all your love, and he broke your heart. 

It wasn’t your thing, to drink your sorrow away. And it wasn’t your thing either to wallow because of a man…But you genuinely thought he was “the one” (oh what a mistake you would soon realize that was). 

He was always so nice, treating you like a princess. He complimented you daily, and never forgot an important date. He was affectionate, not to an annoying point. He was the��perfectamount of affectionate. He was a gentleman and seemed to love you and yet, he betrayed you. 

If a man like him, that was nothing short but sweet and passionate with you, cheated on you, then did that mean you couldn’t trust anyone ? 

Because in your eyes right now, he was perfect. Albeit said eyes were slightly clouded by a a few tequila shots. 

You were downing a fourth drink starting to slowly sob when…

There’s very few things that can get you out of a drunk state in seconds. 

An extremely cold shower could do the trick, for instance. Brings you back to your senses a bit you know ? You wouldn’t magically be sober, but you’d get a clearer mind. Or someone giving you shocking news ! Or like, an event so incredible that your body just forgets how drunk it is for a minute. 

And this event, for you, came at the perfect time. 

Right when you were entering your “sad drunk” phase, which was between the “lol alcohol does NOTHING to me” phase where you downed most of your drinks, and the “dancing on the bar’s counter” phase (a few more drinks and you would have a one woman dance party in your living room, acting as if you were on a bar’s counter and that your name was suddenly “Britney”).

Right when you were about to wallow times a thousand, and cry, and yell “whyyyyyyy ?!” to the sky, arms in the air (drama queen). 

Years later, looking back on that particular event, you’ll start to realize that Destiny HAS to exist. Because come on, it was just too perfect a timing to be a simple coincidence. 

You were about to swallow up your fifth drink, launching yourself head first into the “sad phase” when an ear shattering noise rang all around your apartment. 

Broken glass. 

It was the sound of broken glass. Heightened to the max by your drunkness. You turned on your stool, and…there he was. 

It was a guy. That you were sure of because he had no boobs and too much pecs. And that guy…well that guy just flew right through your window, destroying it. How rude. 

There was glass everywhere. 

How much did a window cost ? Probably a fortune. 

You wondered briefly if you could just use aluminium foil and tape the shit up. There was nothing of value to steal in your apartment anyway, and if aluminium foil could keep meals warm, it definitely worked with a house too right ? 

You sobered up quite a bit, but you were also very drunk when this event happened, so your mind was still in that cloudy weird phase where your priorities were…interesting. 

You worried more about the broken window at first, than about that guy who just launched through it. 

A guy. 

Not just any guy. 

You saw that guy before. 

He was one of those night vigilante your crazy hometown was filled with…RED HOOD !! 

“Thick thighs”, is the first thing you thought right after you recognized him (priorities). 

The second thing you thought was that you needed another drink, and so you downed what was your fifth one, but with that crazy thing happening ended up being on the same level as if it was a second one. You were tipsy, but not “drunk” anymore. 

The third thing that came to your mind was…Is he still alive ? 

No cause, he was like, just laying there, on your living room’s floor, not moving. 

“…Outch.” 

Oh. He spoke. 

So he ain’t dead. Good, means you can have another drink then, you don’t need a clear mind to call an ambulance or something. 

Oddly enough, in your half-drunk half-sober state, this sounded completely reasonable. Nevermind if Red Hood had some internal bleeding or something. He talked. He was probably fine. 

A minute passed, and you just sat there, sipping up your tequila in between taking a pinch of salt and biting into a piece of lemon. 

Salt, tequila, lemon. Great remedy against heartbreaks. 

Wait, were you heartbroken ? Really ? You couldn’t really recall that fact now. But, yeah…it was the reason why you were drinking right ? Because right now, all you could think about was the fact that this Red hood guy had abs for days…

This unforeseen event sobered you up quite a bit, but the two shots you just took kinda brought you back to the same state than you were before.

Well. Not quite. You were drunk as hell again, but seemed to have avoided the “sad phase”. Instead, Red Hood bursting quite literally through your window took you to another road. 

The : “Cool, I got a drinking buddy phase”. Well, taking for granted he didn’t have any internal bleeding and wouldn’t die while biting into a lemon wedge. 

“Tough day ?” 

You ask him, as he slowly sits up and shakes his head, trying to regain his senses. He looks towards you and seem surprised (or at least you think he is, because he wears a mask so…kinda hard to tell). 

************

Jason definitely thought he was alone in this place, because no sane person would just sit there, not saying anything, as someone simply jumped through their window. Nope, most people would just freak out. Scream. 

He knows, because it’s not the first time he falls through a window during a night on duty. And every single time it happened, people freaked out. Screamed. Threw stuffs at him, or hid away begging for their life to be spared. 

And yet here you were, half a bottle of tequila in front of you, surrounded by lemon wedges you bit into, and table salt all over your hand, just staring at him curiously. And did you just say : “tough day” ?  

Well, Jason guessed the empty half of the bottle was why you were so chilled about it all. He sat up, and slowly got back to his feet. 

Usually, going through a window meant the end of the night for him. He’d go back to one of his secret stash, patch himself up and get some rest. Most of the time, he fell through windows because someone pushed him or threw him there…Though today, he just embarrassingly missed a step and fell by himself. 

Of course, no one would ever now he tripped while jumping from one building to another (you lived on the last floor) and went careening into your home (and life). Nope, the official story would be that he fought a fierce enemy and was thrown into that window. Finding fake villains name was easy, given how truly ridiculous some could be. 

Tim and Damian were still after the “Illusive Blue Man” that he totally made up that one time he walked into a poll and had a huge black eye that he couldn’t quite explain…Oh man, he had to stop telling such elaborate lies and just say “I fought with a few guys last night” without more explanation. 

But he couldn’t help it. And those kids believed everything he said, it was too tempting…But for now, this wasn’t the issue. Nope. 

He did a quick check of his body and knew he wasn’t really hurt (thanks “dad” for the amazing body armor ugh ?), so he was planning on leaving that poor girl’s house and send a mystery check in the mail to pay for the damage (money stolen from a certain Bruce Wayne of course, as if he would pay himself). 

Yup. He was just gonna stand up, and go on his way and…somehow, he found himself sitting on the stool opposite side of this mysterious girl, and now she was peppering salt on his hand ? 

“Salt”, she says, and she has a cute drunk voice. Jason almost forgets he just went through a window a few minutes ago. 

“Tequila”, she continues, downing her drink and pointing at the one she poured him. He doesn’t even care the she poured it in a cereal bowl that she didn’t even seem to have clean…He drunk worst things in worst recipient. He turns away to take off his mask and so that she can’t see his face, and “bottom’s up”. 

“Lemon !” she finishes, biting into the sour fruit and spitting it in the direction of the trashcan but missing completely. The lemon wedge goes to lost itself amongst his fallen brothers…

Jason bites into his own lemons, and spits it. Right into the garbage. 

There’s a slight pause, where she just stares at the trashcan, and then at Jason, back to the trashcan, and then turns to him again and simply says : 

“Wow.” 

************

So. This was surreal. 

Here you were. In your home. Taking tequila shots. With…Red Hood. 

One of Gotham’s night vigilante. The most violent one. But the dude seemed chilled. He was holding his liquor really well. 

And now you were talking about your broken heart, telling him the story as if he’d been your friend for years. And he was listening. Intently. And reacting to what you were saying. It had been a LONG time, since you had this kind of talk with anyone, and despite the fact you were drunk, you still noticed how nice it felt to have someone to talk to. Someone that genuinely listened. 

“And then he slept with her !” you say angrily. 

“Nooooooo !?!” 

“Yes, he did ! He slept with…with…what was her name…”

“Nicole. From accounting.” 

“Right, Nicole from accounting ! That bitch ! She always just…counts and shit ! And he slept with her ! Nicole from accounting ! Whom he met thanks to me, by the way ! At a partyyyy !! At my wooooork !!” 

“What an ass.” 

“Right ?! Oh but he had such a good ass though…Quite firm. But whenever he wore jeans, it was super flat.” 

“So, not such a good ass in the end then ?” 

“I guess not. You have a good ass. Popping right out in this outfit of yours.” 

Red Hood chuckles, and the sound of his laughter makes you forget that you just said something incredibly embarrassing. His voice is…nice. Deep. Manly. You like it. You wanna make him chuckle some more, so you say, hoping : 

“And it looks very firm. Not just quite firm.” 

It works. He snorts and it’s very cute. Oh wow. He can be sexy and cute. Full package. You smile a bit dreamily. 

For a second, he’s lost in that smile of yours, and there’s a silence installing itself in the room. A comfortable one. That you break : 

“Ok. So now, he’s not that perfect anymore ! He got no ass ! Penalty points ! I never notice how un-assed he was before…” 

Jason smiles and damn. He’s hot. 

Somewhere along the way, he stopped turning his face away from you whenever he took a shot, and just ended up taking his helmet off. He was probably hoping that you’d black out or something, so you wouldn’t remember his face (or he just didn’t care). 

In any case, you were pretty sure you never saw him before. His face kinda reminded you of an old memory. Of someone you saw somewhere long ago, when you were a kid…Which wasn’t really a big help right ? 

Right. You had no idea who he was. And in your drunken state, probably couldn’t piece anything together anyway. So even if you did know who he could be, you wouldn’t know in the end anyway…Makes perfect sense right ?

What you knew was : he’s hot. 

This white streak in his hair did something to you that you couldn’t explain. And that jawline ? You would love to get cut on that bitch.  It could actually cut a bitch, you were sure of it. Those blue eyes ? You’ve never seen someone with such blue eyes. And did you mention to yourself how muscular he was ? Because man you only saw guys like this in magazines ! 

But beyond his handsome features, he seemed like a nice guy. Like he was listening to you, a total stranger. And this realization suddenly raised your guard up. 

You also thought that your ex-cheating-boyfriend was a nice guy. And come to think of it, who the hell just barge in someone’s home like that, and actually stay to drink tequila shots ?! Wait but…in your guts…it’s not like with your ex. 

You don’t think he’s a nice guy. You know he is. 

************

There’s a visible shift in your mood, after this realization. So far, you talked to him about your broken heart freely, and he listened. 

Oddly enough, no words that came out of your (perfect) mouth bored him. Jason wasn’t sure wether it was the alcohol or not, but you captivated him. 

But in a split second, and without him knowing why, your features changed. You were now frowning. Like an unhappy little kid. It was kinda cute, but he didn’t like it because…why were you frowning ? 

He tries to lighten up the mood and says : 

“Well here you go. See, you didn’t loose the perfect guy, his ass was flat in jeans. Can’t work with that, can you ? I bet we can find other flaws. Make you realize he actually was a looser.”  

Your guard is up, but you can’t help but smile a bit, plus you were frowning just now because you realized you just knew you could trust that total stranger, and it was so weird…. 

Besides, no harm in indulging this, because you’re pretty sure it’ll make you feel better to try and see the bad side of your ex-boyfriend, not just his good ones. No one was perfect. And so, still a bit careful, you say : 

“Well…He never got any of my Tv shows or movie references.” 

“Well, here’s a point to take off of his “perfectness”. Doesn’t get pop culture references. Deal breaker.” 

“Yeah…Yeah you’re right. It is. He also used to hate when I made jokes. I like puns ya know ? Terrible ones. Well, he was always embarrassed whenever I made them in public.” 

“Ashamed of his girlfriend, doesn’t sound very gentlemanly, right ?” 

“Yeah. It doesn’t. Maybe he wasn’t such a perfect gentleman…He also used to not want to go out with me if I didn’t wear any make-up and was dressed just casually.” 

“What you mean, he never just went out with you ?” 

“We only went out on dates. I had to dress up. I could be casual home though…” 

“Well goodie, the man let you be yourself when you were home. Big deal. To be honest, sounds like a douchey move.” 

“That was kinda douchey…I never cared what he looked like.” 

And it’s true. For you, physical appearance wasn’t everything. And sure you thought your ex was hot and all, but only because you liked his personality too. You liked his jokes, you were never ashamed of anything he said. 

And right now, sure that stranger that bursted through your window was hot, but the reason you felt like you could tell him things was because he just made you comfortable by his mere aura. Because he gave you such a good vibe. 

You never were fully about appearances. It was always just a bonus for you…So it never occurred to you why your ex would only hang out in public with you if you were pampered. Like he used to hate when you just wore hoodies and no make-up, even if you didn’t need make-up to be beautiful. 

Comes to think of it, he was very much about appearances…Uh. Interesting. You never realized that before. 

You turn to Red Hood, and the look on your face says it all. You’re slowly realizing maybe you didn’t just lost “the one”. The vigilante says : 

“Ok, so : no ass, no humor apparently, doesn’t get pop culture references, and was kind of a jerk when it came to going out with you…” 

“He did tell me often that I was beautiful though. Including when I just woke up from a night out, and was awful looking.”

“Yeah, but he never went out with you looking like that. He shouldn’t feel ashamed of hanging out with you looking like that. Just like he shouldn’t feel embarrassed when you joke. He can be exasperated, like if you really make bad puns, sure. And he can think it’s unfunny…But embarrassed ? No.” 

“I guess…I never thought about it.” 

“Well let me tell you, as someone who does not know neither you nor him personally, he sounds like a bit of a jerk. Let’s not forget he cheated as well. Like, that’s not something good people do. Especially not with…Nicole from accounting.” 

“Nicole from accounting…Yeah. They’re together now though.” 

“So ? He should’ve broken up with you if he realized he liked her. That’s the right thing to do. Trust me on that, I put villains behind bars for a living, I know what’s right or wrong.” 

“I heard you kill criminals.” 

“Used to. I used to kill criminals, I had issues. I’ll tell you one day if you wanna. It’s a real tear jerker story. With clowns and crowbars. And I’m telling you that because I’m drunk, right now. Also, if we want to be specific, I don’t actually make a living out of putting villains behind bars. Like, I don’t get paid or anything…” 

Jason finds himself ranting about anything that comes to his mind, and though he hears himself claim it’s because of the alcohol he’s saying all this, he realizes maybe there’s something else making him want to talk. 

You. A total stranger he walked upon. Or rather, went-through-the-window upon.  Who didn’t freak out when he went through said window. And instead, invited him over to have tequila shots. 

Because, according to your grandmother, the best remedy to…basically any problems in life, was “salt, tequila, lemon”. 

“She was a wise woman.” 

He says, and you turn to him, clearly not understanding what he was talking about. 

“Who ?” 

“Your grandma. For saying that salt, tequila and lemon was a great remedy against heartbreaks and all.” 

“Oh. Yeah. I wouldn’t know, I never met her. She died before I was born.” 

“Well what she passed on to your parents is great.” 

“What ?”

“Well, that “salt, tequila and lemon” thing, I assume she said that to your mom or dad, and then they said that to you, and then it became your grandma’s advice. Right ?” 

“…Nah. It’s an excuse I made up. Whenever I need to justify something, I just say “like my grandma said, ain’t no shame in eating an entire tub of ice cream if you want to”, and then people are just like “oh yeah, cool”, because when you say the word “grandma”, then it gives a perspective to your words ya know ?” 

Jason had no idea what you were on about, but he loved it. You seemed to be very smart. And witty. And funny. The hell did that guy cheated on you for ? And why was he ashamed of going out in public with you when you weren’t dressed up ?! 

You currently wore “Hello Kitty” pyjamas, had absolutely no make up on, and your hair was a mess, and he thought you looked gorgeous.

“Why are you so nice ?” 

Your question takes him by surprise, and for a few seconds he doesn’t register it and just says : “ugh ?” 

“To me. Why are you so nice to me ? Is it the alcohol ? Does it make you nice ? Or are you just nice to every stranger ? Every girl you destroy the windows of ? Or are you like my ex ? You seem nice, but then you go off and cheat on your girl simply because you like another girl and you’re too cowardly to break up with your current girl ?” 

Jason hiccups slightly, and says : 

“No, I’m not nice to any girl I met. I’m actually usually kind of a jerk, too “brutally honest”. But you…I don’t know. You give me good feelings. Oh and here’s to add on his flaws list. “Coward”. Can’t even break up with a girl, has to wait to get caught red-handed and break her heart. Cooooward. Bad flaw. Kind of guy who runs in the face of danger, instead of standing by you.” 

It’s probably the fact that he said “you give me good feelings” that spurs this in you. That gives you a new clearer perspective on things. 

“My heart wasn’t broken.”

It’s a shock, to you. This realization. This sudden feeling jumping in your face. You…are not heartbroken. You’re mad. You’re frustrated. You feel betrayed. You feel a crazy burning anger towards your ex for toying around with you like that. For not having the balls to just break up, after spending two years together. 

He was suppose to know you. To be your friend. Things could have turned out better. He could have just come up to you, say the truth, and…You were pretty sure you’d still be friend. Because he really was a great guy. 

He really was all the good thing you though about him. He made a mistake, an unforgivable one in your book. But he was a great guy. 

He was just…not your great guy. Not anymore at least. 

And you realized, there, quite drunk, that…It was ok.  

Your heart wasn’t broken.  

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

Your pride was. Your trust was. But your heart ? …Maybe you weren’t completely in love with him. You were best friends, yes, but love ? Maybe it wasn’t love…

Your heart wasn’t broken. 

“My heart isn’t broken.” 

You tell Red hood, looking at him right in his wonderful ocean blue eyes. And he looks right back at you, and just nods. Just like that. And then he pours you one last tequila shot. 

Because like your grandma would say : “When you make great discovery about yourself…Salt, tequila, lemon”. 

************

It took you only a few hours with him to realize that you weren’t in love with your ex, and that was kinda scary. Because this realization didn’t come from nowhere. 

Nope. 

But when he said that your ex broke your heart, you felt obligated to tell him that no. No your heart wasn’t broken. You were sad and angry, yes, but not heartbroken. For you, in that moment, it was important for this total stranger to know you weren’t actually in love. 

Hell, you didn’t even know yourself you weren’t that in love before you talked to him. It just came as a sudden, yet utterly true revelation. 

Because, and this wasn’t the alcohol speaking…You felt incredibly attracted to that guy. To Red Hood. Not just because of the white streak in his hair, and the eyes, and smile, and voice, and abs, and thick thighs. That too, sure, but not only…Nope. 

Nope. Not because of this. 

But because he had a tough day (he said so himself, explaining to you how he went through the window…he was fighting a super-villain when he got flung through your window, tough tough time ahem), and yet he sat with a crazy lady that peppered salt on his hand and practically forced him to take a tequila shot…

Because you could see in his eyes, and felt in your guts that he didn’t have an easy life…and yet he took a break from whatever he was doing to just sit with you and listen to you. He didn’t even make sense, that you trusted those feelings so fiercely. And yet, you did. Because he listened to you. 

He saw you were struggling and he stayed. And though you felt you couldn’t trust anyone at that time…You oddly felt like he was ok. 

Like he wouldn’t be the kind of guy to cheat, or run in the face of danger, leaving you all alone to fight off demons. 

In a few short hours, you fell for this guy more than you ever fell for your ex. 

What did that say about you uh ? …That was pretty pathetic…

************

Jason didn’t think that you were pathetic at all. 

On the contrary. If he went to seat with you, and drink with you, is because he was instantly mesmerized by you. 

And though he didn’t know at first why, now he was sure of it. 

It’s because you didn’t freak out. And something told him it wasn’t only because you were a bit drunk (he fell in drunk people’s home before…none reacted like you). 

Nope. It was because you were special. He just knew it. Special in every way. Funny. Beautiful. Genuinely listening to him when he was speaking. 

He peppered his own problems within your story, as you told him. And you listened. Hell, even referenced a few things he said early on, way later, while you were crazy drunk. You listened. 

You gave a total stranger that seemed to have a tough day some salt. And tequila. And lemons. 

And then you cared. You asked him a thousand times if he was ok, and he basically had to take off his armor to prove it so (to your eyes’ greatest pleasure…mm mm mm those muscles). 

Captivated. He was captivated by you. It was strange, and though he knew it was because you were special, he still was unclear as to why his feelings were that strong. 

For someone he just met. And barely knew. And only knew while drunk. 

You were just…Special. 

************

It was surreal. The all thing. 

What started as a night where you planned on wallowing your pain and drinking…ended up changing your life. 

And no one could convince you that it wasn’t Fate. Because what were the odds that Red Hood would fall through YOUR window after tripping (yeah you didn’t buy that “fighting super-villains thing” at all) ?

What were the odds of his timing being so perfect, arriving just before you started to cry ? Because there was no doubt in your mind that if he had come a few seconds later, he wouldn’t have stayed. 

He would have found a crying mess, and maybe he would have tried to confort you but…You wouldn’t have answered. In your “sad phase”, you only cry and whine. He would have eventually left. And the wonderful talk you’d just have, would never have happened. 

But instead. He came right before your lips touch that fatal shot of tequila that would have brought you into the “sad phase”. And took your drunkness down a notch. Rerouted your evening. 

You weren’t wallowing anymore, you were ranting. 

Sharing your anger and frustration. 

And he helped you realize that your ex wasn’t that perfect…That maybe it was just not meant to be…After all, he cheated on you. 

Uh. What a shame. You didn’t even know his name…”Red Hood”…

You wished you knew his name. 

************

The morning lights were rising, and the bottle of tequila was long gone. 

There were still salt and lemons though. For some reason, you decided to buy the entire grocery store’s stock of lemons. 

Red Hood stood up, and said he had to go. 

He was nice about it. Said it was a pleasure to have spend the night with you. You both laughed about the innuendos that ensued. 

You were exactly on the same page. And he understood all your joke referencing to pop culture… 

But it was time for him to go. And he apparently had no intention of telling you his real name. He didn’t hint either at ever coming back to see you again. 

And there was that. Just a nice night, spend talking to a genuine friend that you’ll never see again. 

A genuine friend that you didn’t even know a few hours before. 

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking. Maybe not. 

And even if you ended up never seeing him again, this evening truly changed your life…At least, it saved you from a heartbreak. Made you realize it wasn’t that.

Though, now, as he climbs out of the window again (he couldn’t possibly use the front door), you feel like the actual heartbreak is starting. 

Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Right. 

Salt, tequila, lemon…

But the tequila is all gone. 

“I’ll send someone to fix that window…Sorry again about that. …Bye.” are his last words, and then he’s out. 

And the tequila is all gone. 

************

… 

…

…

…

Days pass by in a blur. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Ugh. But you don’t want to this time. You don’t want to get drunk to forget. 

You don’t want to forget him. And you know it’s ridiculous to get that worked up over a guy you met one night and that will never come back. That you didn’t even know the name of. 

This entire night was weird anyway. 

Getting drunk with a dangerous night vigilante. Pouring your heart out to him, and him doing the same. The hell were you even thinking ? 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

That would be a good idea to do this right now, because man…your heart hurt. More than when you discovered your ex sleeping with Nicole. From accounting. But you can’t resolve yourself to drink. To forget. Nope. Instead you…

*Knock knock knock*. 

Uh ? You take a quick look at your clock in the kitchen.10 pm. Who the hell is coming at 10 pm ?! It can only be bad news. Especially in Gotham…You peep into the eyehole and…

WHAT ?! 

You open your door quickly, and… 

“Told you I’d send someone to fix your window.” 

It’s him. It’s Red hood. But in…civilian clothes. 

His ass doesn’t look flat in jeans. 

He’s holding a window wrapped in cardboard, and there’s a toolbox at his feet. 

“Yeah, you did…come in.” 

************

Jason Todd. 

That’s his name. And connections are fast to be made in your brain. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. That supposedly died…ten years ago. 

And is Red Hood now. Oh. It makes sense. Even his little “killing criminals” thing while Batman never killed. You easily put two and two together. 

Red Hood. Jason Todd. Bruce Wayne. 

Wow. Can’t believe you never guessed that before. Of course Bruce Wayne is Batman. He’s got the motive, the means, the excuses…It’s so obvious. And yet, you never realized. And no one else in Gotham ever realized. 

Jason Todd. 

Now you know his name. 

And he’s fixing your window. Nobody ever fixed windows for you before (even those who broke it).

Um. To add to the “perfect man” list : “Handy”. 

Jason Todd.  

He quickly works the window up, and then he turns to you. While he was working you talked, as if you knew each other for years. Joking around. Like old friends. Like old extremely good and close friends. 

It fits. It clicks. It’s natural. You and him, him and you. 

Barely knowing each others, and yet knowing each others the best. 

Jason. Todd. 

He turns to you now, and with a smirk, he says : 

“Ya know, my grandma always say that when something good happens to you, you need to celebrate. And I feel like this, right now, you and I, though I have no idea what we’re doing and where it’s going…Well it’s still something to celebrate. And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…” 

You smile. 

Yeah. You don’t know where this thing between you two is going, but you do know that you never met someone who so fully understood you. 

And in such a short span of time. And you know you’re not mistaking. It’s a feeling too strong to be a mistake. 

He came back to fix your window for god’s sake. And trusted you enough to tell you his actual name. Without a second thought. Which meant everything. Especially since from all the hint he let slip through last time you saw each others, about his father, well…let’s just say telling people his real name wasn’t really something he was used to. 

But it just works. It fits. It clicks. It’s not like with your ex, because you don’t think you know it does. It just does. The fact that you say those next few words in perfect sync finishes to convince you : 

(“…And she always says, my grandma, that to celebrate perfectly you need…”) 

“Salt, tequila, and lemons.” 

______________________________________________

I’m so mad the Tumblr app crashed and I deleted the original post...Y’all were great and reblogged the hell out of it ! Which is why it got so many notes in such a short span of times. And feedbacks. I haven’t had that many feedbacks on a story in a long time. So just one last time and I won’t bother you with that again : Please, if you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to reblog it and share it with others. People who don’t follow me can’t really find my stories anymore so...you’re a big help by spreading them. It’s always very encouraging. 

And if you got the time, feedbacks are always hella appreciated and always make my day a little brighter <3. 

[negasonicimagines]

TEAM (Part Two)

I forgot to mention that this fic is partially inspired by Lorde’s “Team,” hence the title. Kind of about how no matter how much you and the other characters here bicker, you’re all on each others’ team.

This is the second part to TEAM (Part One) [but I hope that’d be obvious] and therefore is inspired by the same request and has essentially the same trigger warnings.

“So, you and Ellie, huh? About time,” Logan remarks, and you feel yourself blush.

“No! It’s not like that! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d be the luckiest girl in the world, but, uh… No, it’s not like that.”

“Are you sure about that? I’ve seen the way you two are together. When she’s not looking at you or her phone, she’s watching everyone else like a hawk, like they’re threats. Honestly, Piotr’s worried about her.”

At the mention of Wade’s friend, you’re reminded of what Logan said before, about the thing that he knew that he shouldn’t tell her, the thing Wade also knew.

“What was that, anyway? The thing you knew that you didn’t know before that you would’ve told me if you had but couldn’t tell me?”

“I’m afraid that’s Wade’s business.”

“Great,” you remark. “So, I’ll never know.”

“Listen, kid, I know the stuff he said-”

“Screamed.”

“The stuff he screamed at you was pretty fucking awful. But… He had his reasons, okay? Being around him, being as close to him as you were was dangerous. It made you a target,” Logan explains.

“When will you people realize that I can’t die forever?! I’ve died plenty of times, and I always come back! Let me make my own decisions!”

“How many times have you died, Y/N?” Logan asks.

“It’s just… Hard not to starve when my mom kicks me out over school breaks, especially with the metabolism that comes with a healing factor. I can’t stay with Wade all the time, he has himself and Al to worry about. Muggers don’t like when you don’t have money. Mom doesn’t like me when I don’t have money. I don’t know, probably like eight or nine times.”

“You should’ve come here!” Logan scolds, and you want to curl in on yourself, just like before. “I’m sorry. He and I both know just how much dying can fuck you up, so, to hear you say that you’ve died.... And that you don’t care if you do? It’s concerning, to say the least.”

“Boo-hoo, Y/N’s crazy. Who isn’t?” you remark, annoyed at his concern. Men, they always think they know better.

He sighs. “Listen. You should just talk to him, I’m sure-”

“No,” you say, and it comes out as a whimper. The wound was still fresh. “I don’t want to.”

“Hey, he’s not gonna hurt you,” Logan reassures you. “He probably feels bad for what he said, and-”

“I said no,” you cut him off, but the sad tone in your voice doesn’t make you sound very convincing.

“And he’s not gonna apologize unless he thinks you wanna hear it. You know how Wade gets when he feels guilty, he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“Well, I don’t wanna hear an apology. I just want him to be my friend again, like before. That’s it. I don’t care to know why, or how, or whatever. I just miss my friend,” you admit, and Logan sighs.

“Okay...”

“Is it alright if I go? I wanna get started on my Chemistry homework.”

“Yeah,” Logan says. “Go ahead. See you next Wednesday. Or, sooner, if you need anything.”

You leave the gym, making your way to your dorm  with your head down, when you bump into a familiar red-suited man.

“Sorry,” you squeak, not even able to meet the eyes of the mask, before attempting to go past him. He stops you, grabbing at your shoulder, but you flinch away. “Please d-don’t…”

“Y/N…” Wade murmurs, filled with remorse at his rampage. He’d made you scared of him, which means it worked, but he regrets how much it hurt you. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“You’re not, huh?” Ellie, swiftly approaching, asks. “Pretty sure you already did, Deadpool.”

“I just wanted-” he starts, but Ellie, your avenging angel, cuts him off.

“You just wanted what, huh? To terrorize them more, is that it?

“Terrorize? I-”

“You what? Didn’t? Because as someone who sleeps in the same room as Y/N, I can confirm that you did. They cry in their sleep like they did the day it happened. Did you know that, that you made them cry? I guess you do now. So, leave, before I decide I’m going to follow you out the door and blow you to Hell.”

“E-Ellie, I said not to hurt him,” you quietly tell her, and she clenches her fists, grumbling.

“You did?” Wade asks.

“Of course,” you respond meekly, tapping the tips of your fingers together and avoiding the gaze of everyone around you. and Ellie places an arm around you, glaring at Wade without mercy.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Y/N. I- I just didn’t know what to do, so much was happening. I was so angry at the situation, so scared for your safety, and I took all that aggression out on you, the one person I should’ve been channeling those feelings into protecting, and I- I know I already said it, but I’m a blabbermouth with nothing else to say, so… I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, kid. I know you probably don’t care, you just wanna start over and stay the hell away from me, but I’m sorry. And my door’s always open.”

“Thank you. I forgive you,” you nod, smiling a little, You’re already starting to feel better, more like yourself.

“You what?” Ellie questions, shaking with anger. “He hurt you. He shouldn’t ever be forgiven.”

“She’s right,” Wade agrees, head down.

“Well, it’s my forgiveness, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it,” you remind them, shrugging.

“There she is,” Wade says quietly, and you can somehow tell that he’s smiling. You don’t know if it’s body language, tone of voice, or what, but he’s smiling.

“I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m gonna keep living here, and I’m gonna keep taking better care of myself, so no one has to worry about me again,” you inform him.

“Wrong goal, but I appreciate the method. I don’t mind worrying about you, kid, but I’d rather worry about you not doing your homework than about the next time you’re gonna collapse on my porch, dead.”

“What?” Ellie wonders, and you groan. “Wait, have you died?”

“Goddammit, Wade,” you grumble. “She didn’t know that.”

“H-how?”

“Not important,” you tell her.

“No, it is, Y/N. You want all of us to get over the fact that you can die, but the truth is that you need to get over the fact that we care if you die,” Wade corrects you. There’s no malice in his tone, but the words themselves cause anxiety to slither out of the pit of your stomach like a snake and curl around your lungs and heart, maintining a tight grip.

“It’s because of you not eating or sleeping enough, isn’t it?” Ellie asks. “That’s what you guys were in that fight about the other morning, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you admit, and Ellie closes her eyes, taking a deep, shaky breath and trying to remain calm for your sake, for her own sake.

“Right,” she responds, sighing. “Well, I’m not letting that happen again.”

“Challenge accepted,” you chuckle, and she rolls her eyes.

“I was just on my way back to Photography. Forgot my camera. See you later.”

She makes her way in the direction of the classroom, disappearing around a corner.

“Man, if she didn’t hate me before, she sure does now,” Wade says, and you smile, shaking your head. “Really?” he asks.

“Photography is Mondays and Thursdays… And she didn’t even have her camera.”

Wade scoffs. “Well, she’s definitely taking good care of you. I always knew she would, one day. When did you two finally make it official?  I’m sorry that I missed it.”

“We haven’t made anything official, Wade, she doesn’t like me like that. We’re just close friends.”

He rolls his eyes, going to playfully shove your shoulder, but you flinch away. He sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I- I was so cruel, I just wanted to say whatever i could to get you away, to protect you, from m-”

“From what? The thing Logan keeps talking about?”

“What thing?” he asks, sounding a bit panicked.

“He keeps saying that there’s this thing he knows that he would’ve told me if he’d known before but he shouldn’t tell me now. It’s super weird, but he said you were going to tell me before you- You-” You stop yourself from continuing, still, shaking a little bit at the memory. It was only the day before yesterday.

“Yeah,” he responds quietly. “It was part of the reason I did that. I just- Us being friends was already dangerous, and you being- You- You’re- I- I’m so sorry I left you with her, if I’d known, if I’d known she was pregnant...I would’ve done the right thing! I’m not that kind of dirtbag, you’ve gotta believe me, and I’m just so, so sorry. Everything that’s wrong with your life, maybe it wouldn’t have happened if I’d just thought- If I’d just thought, but I was young, and stupid, and there’s nothing I can do now except own up to it, own up to the fact that I- I am- I’m- Oh, please…” He practically falls into you, wrapping his arms around your neck. You feel him shake with sobs, and you cry, too, but with a different emotion. Not regret, but happiness.

“You? You’re him?” you ask, and he readjusts himself, backing away from you.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked before hugging, I just didn’t think it was gonna be so hard, and you’re my best friend, and I- I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m so sorry that I’m your father.”

“You are? You’re sorry?” you ask, knowing that he’s apologizing because he regrets it, regrets you and your entire existence.

“Not in the way you’re thinking! You- You deserve so much better, I wanted so much better for you,” he reassures you, or, at least, attempts to.

“How do you even know?”

“I just… I talked to Xavier to see if he had any connections that could help me find your father, and he said he did, but he insisted that I give him a sample of my DNA to see if they match before he used his connections. I laughed it off, but then… it was a match.”

“How’d you get my DNA?” You wonder.

“Oh, I stuck a cotton swab in your mouth while you were sleeping. Wasn’t hard, you’re a really heavy sleeper,” he says, and you have a faint memory of the dream you had about a week ago where you were abducted by aliens that wanted to harvest your DNA to create genetically modified pet humans for their home planet. You laugh.

“So, you found out it was a match, and then… You were angry about it? Hated that the Wilson family legacy wasn’t going to end with you?”

“No. I was angry, yeah, but at myself. I was irresponsible, and my best friend in the whole world sufferred because of it. I never recognized your mom the times I’d seen her, and we had sex!”

“You had sex with my mom? Bro code violation alert!” you joke, and he chuckles bitterly.

“Right?” he responds. “But… I don’t even know where to go from here. Things can’t go back to normal, that’s not okay. I need to step up. And, even if it was the right thing to do, going back to normal… I get the feeling that you’re not gonna be that comfortable around me for a while. I was… I was just like my dad. My worst fucking fear.”

“You’re not him, okay? I promise.”

“I should be comforting you,” he says, stepping towards you. Out of renewed instinct, you step back. He’s heartbroken.

“Try- Try not to take it personally, I’m like this with just about everybody,” you attempt to make him feel better, but he shakes his head.

“You haven’t been like this with me, not before- Before I did what I did. Said those things, those awful, untrue things. Why did I say those things? They weren’t the truth, they were the opposite of it. I love hearing from you, it makes every day better. Finding you on my couch is a great feeling, knowing that someone as great as you trusts me, sees me as someone who can keep them safe.”

“And my memes?” You ask in a sarcastically accusatory tone.

“The funniest,” he replies. “Can I- Can I give you a hug?”

You nod, and he surges forward, wrapping you up in his arms and spinning you around.

“I always hoped it’d be like that,” you quietly admit, and he beams.

“Listen, we can talk later at dinner. I think you’ve got a certain girl you need to talk to, and she and her metal accomplice are approaching.”

“I think she’s his accomplice,” you correct with a laugh.

“Gotta bounce before the hardest guy on Earth ropes me into another mission. I’ll be back, though, kid.”

“Yeah. See you soon…”

“Wade’s fine for now, unless you wanna call me something else. We can negotiate later, ‘kay? Love you, bye.” Wade scurries down the hall, not realizing that he’s going towards the dorms, not the exit.

“Wade Wilson!” calls Piotr from behind you, and you turn around to see that Ellie is far closer to you than she is to Piotr, having gone faster on her smaller, lighter legs.

“Uh, hello…” you say dumbly.

“Based on your expression, I’d say that discussion went well.”

“Very well. Thank you for giving him the opportunity to talk to me alone, I’m sure you didn’t wanna do that.”

“I didn’t, but I figured it was the best option. Tell me more on the way to the dorm.”

“Well, uh… He apologized, a lot. Not just for the fights.”

“For letting you die?”

“No. Worse.”

“Holy shit, what’d he do, and why haven’t I heard about it?” She asks, tense.

“Because I didn’t know,” you reply defensively. “He’s- He’s my biological father, Ellie.”

“Whoa… Seriously? How long has he known?”

“I don’t know, but not long, the DNA tests were recently. He just wanted to help me find my dad and when he asked Xavier if he had any way of helping, the Professor said that he had to submit a sample to be tested. Turn’s out the old man’s hunch was right. You… You still wanna be friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course, why wouldn’t I?” Ellie wonders.

“I just- I know you don’t like Wade very much, and I’m technically his daughter, so…”

“So? That doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore,” Ellie argues, and then covers her mouth.

“You love me?”

“Yeah, but just, like, in a friend way,” she plays it off rather smoothly, in her opinion, but you sigh in disappointment before you can stop yourself. “Wait, do you love me in a not-friend way?”

“Not really sure what you wanna hear,” you respond, feeling the recently-sealed cracks in your heart refracturing.

“Do you?” she asks.

You’re silent as the two of you walk to your shared dorm.

“Y/N, I asked you a question. Do you love me as a friend, or as more?”

You feel overheated and nauseous, that’s how nervous you are. You attempt to take some steadying breaths before answering: “More.”

“Oh, thank god…” she sighs. “I- I told you on Monday, when you fell asleep with me. But you were asleep, so, you didn’t hear me… Duh… I sound so stupid right now, don’t I?”

“No, not at all! Jeez, today just keeps getting better and better, I mean it!” You exclaim.

“Can- Can I kiss you?” Ellie asks nervously, and your eyes widen, but you nod. She takes your face in her hands and just goes for it, pressing her lips to yours. You respond immediately, wrapping your arms around her neck while her hands slip past your face and into your hair, tugging gently. You let out a small, quiet moan at that, and you can feel her smirk a little. She kisses you faster, pushing her body closer to yours, and your knees give out. She catches you in the nick of time, laughing a bit at how easily flustered you are as she nudges you toward the bed, sitting there with you. “Your knees are right, we probably shouldn’t rush into things.”

“Yeah…” you admit, resting your head on her shoulder.

“I love you…” She mumbles. “I’ve loved you for a long time, actually.”

“Same here. When did you know?”

Ellie replies: “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“I can tell you first, if you want,” you offer.

“Yeah, do that…” She says.

“I just realized that every time I was upset, you were there, making me feel better. Even if you didn’t know it. Every time my mom hit me, or I got stabbed by an asshole mugger, or I was about to faint from hunger… You were right there. Making my life better just by existing.”

“I wish I could’ve been right there in person, to help you,” Ellie says, and you shake your head.

“That’s not the point. The point is that you did, without even trying. You always make me happy, without even trying.You just have to be there and everything is better.”

“That’s really nice… I feel dumb now,” Ellie confesses.

“It’s not dumb! Probably not, I mean…” you reply, nuzzling her chest a bit as you try to get a bit cozier.

“Um...You probably don’t know this, but I used to get in fights a lot before we met. And Piotr would always lecture me, telling me it wasn’t heroic to fight out of anger. That I should fight for something, not because of something. That I should be aware of the consequences that come with fighting, and truly think about them before I did. I never understood what he meant, and then we met and became friends… Then best friends…

“I didn’t even realize that before every fight, even the ones I was assigned, I’d think about how I was going to make the world a better place for you. I’d think about what you would think if you heard what I was doing. I- I made a mistake at one point, got angry over nothing and got into another stupid, pointless fight. It was the first time in awhile I’d heard Colossus’s spiel, and I realized my thinking process with every world he spoke. It all just made me think of how I feel about you. You’d made me a better person, more mindful of the consequences of my actions, my thoughtless, immature violence. That’s when I knew.”

“Oh, shut up! That’s way better than mine and not embarrassing at all! Show-off,” you remark, and she chuckles.

“That was fucking beautiful!” Wade wails from behind the door.

“I think I liked it better when you two weren’t friends,” Ellie comments, and you smile at her, shaking your head. She takes your hand in hers and squeezes gently.

“Oh, come on. You can’t hate him. I mean, I wouldn’t exist without him, for a few reasons. I mean, he’s the one who passed me the gene for a healing factor, even if his was recessive before. And, I mean, he’s the sperm donor either way.”

“I heard that!” he shouts, and Ellie smiles at you, planting another kiss on your lips.

You could get used to this.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Fifty-One: Good Medicine ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Healing Waters and Scorching Flames ] [ AO3 Link ]

She hasn’t had much opportunity to learn the healing side of waterbending. Though...then again, waterbending as a whole hasn’t exactly been a subject Hinata was steeped in. With the Fire Nation raids capturing and locking way the Southern waterbenders, Hinata had only her mother to teach her...and even then, not for long.

She’d not been one of the many taken prisoner. Hanako had simply been slain where she stood.

As the last left with any hint of bending in her veins, Hinata grew up without a teacher, only able to guess and feel her way through bending. Failures in her experiments meant a lack of confidence, and a yearning to someday make it to the North to find a master to learn from.

Of course, that had been before stumbling across the Avatar alongside her best friend Kiba. That single encounter changed not only her life, but the world.

Suddenly she had a way to leave the South Pole: a method of transport to the North, where she and the Avatar - Naruto - would learn under the remaining masters of waterbending.

Before they could leave, however...trouble found them. Namely the second-in-line prince Sasuke of the Fire Nation.

Their first meeting had her feeling fearful...but also realizing she couldn’t afford to be afraid. This was the Avatar...the world’s last chance for peace. If Hinata wanted to make it to the North - if she wanted Naruto to save the world - she had to put aside her reservations, and do as her mother did: stand up to the Fire Nation.

Needless to say, that first encounter - and the next several over the coming weeks - meant a great feeling of animosity between them: Hinata, and Sasuke. They both sought the same person, but for entirely different reasons.

But as time passed, and their circumstances changed...they could no longer afford to be enemies. Naruto needed to learn firebending. Sasuke had begun to see the error of his ways, thanks to careful guidance from his cousin Shisui: a secret member of the White Lotus.

So, the two groups were suddenly awkwardly pushed together as Sasuke accepted his role as Naruto’s firebending teacher.

But Hinata wasn’t having it.

After all he’d done - to them, to Naruto, to her - she couldn’t trust him. Wouldn’t! No longer was Hinata the meek, scared girl from the South Pole. By then, she’d grown into a young woman of resolve and dedication.

Of them all, it would be Hinata he’d have to convince the most.

It hadn’t been easy...but from a begrudging acceptance of their circumstances, situations arose to drive them together. Bit by bit, acceptance grew...which slowly formed into trust.

Which is why now, with Sasuke injured, Hinata tries to put her limited healing knowledge to the test.

“Just...hold still. I need to concentrate.”

Not arguing, Sasuke sits in a tense, accepting silence. Mild burns litter his left forearm, used to block an attack but partially letting it go astray. The red, puckered skin stings, but doesn’t seem too severe.

Taking clean water from a canteen, Hinata examines the wounds carefully before bringing the element up to the singed tissue. For a moment, it almost seems to burn all over again. But then the liquid glows softly, and relief instantly wilts Sasuke’s shoulders.

“...I’ve never seen waterbending healing before.”

“I’m...very loosely practiced in it. I had some lessons in the North, but...not as much as combat. I’ll do what I can, but...they might scar, and take a w-while to heal.”

“It’s fine...better than I could do.”

That earns him a brief glance before returning to her work.

“...when this is all over, I know a healer you can learn from. If you want.”

“...you do?”

“I…” Shame weighs in the base of Sasuke’s gut. “...when I, er...went to get Naruto, it wasn’t my first trip to the south. A few months before that, I’d gone to another tribe that used to be known for healing, and...took the last bender there. She’s the one serving my brother. Keeping him alive.”

Recognition alights Hinata’s face. “...I see.”

“I’ll be honest, I wasn’t...kind to her. At the time, I was still…” His tone fades to silence, not sure how to explain. “...I was so conflicted then. My brother means everything to me. I was desperate. So...I told her I was holding her village hostage. If anything happened to Itachi, I would…” Another pause, not needing to explain. “...and yet...part of me - a stupid, selfish part of me - had hoped we wouldn’t find one. A healer.”

“...but…?”

Grief and anger darken Sasuke’s face. “...the older I got...the more I realized that, if Itachi were to die...it would make me the next Fire Lord. And now, I...I can’t stand myself for ever having thought that way. But my father, his teachings...they jaded me. It’s like he wanted to pit us against each other. He knew Itachi was weak. Maybe...that’s what he wanted. But I insisted to try the South. To look for a healer.”

For a time, quiet settles over them. “...then...that’s what matters in the end. You overcame those feelings, and you got him help.”

“But I did so in a terrible way!”

“I’m not saying you’re not at fault in that regard. But...you helped your brother, when you could have...well, left him to a worse fate. Maybe someday you can atone to how you treated the other waterbender. And...I would be happy to learn from her.” Hinata glances up, managing a small smile.

“...you’ve come a long way, Sasuke. In my eyes, at least. I’ll admit...I was so wary of you at first. And...I had reason to be. But I also see how you’ve changed. I might have had my doubts, but you proved yourself. I’m sure you can do so with her when the time comes. For now, we each have our own paths. She’ll help your brother, and you’ll help the Avatar.”

Sasuke looks to her with a somber expression before glancing to his wounds. “...and you’ll help me.”

“...we’ll all help each other. Together, we’ll stop your father. The Fire Nation can then be led back into the ways of peace. The w-war will be over. And we can all...go home. Heal. And the world can regain its sense of balance.”

“The work won’t stop with the war,” Sasuke reminds her dryly. “There will be plenty left to do.”

“I know...but we’ll face it together. All of us. Naruto has changed too, you know. He’s not just a wistful child. Now...he’s matured. At least,” she laughs, “somewhat. Part of him, I think, will always be a kid. But we work together well as a team - and we’ll keep doing so after the war, until the world has a better foundation. It’s been stuck in this war for almost a hundred years! There will be a lot to get used to.”

“Hn…”

Another round of silence, and then Hinata checks her work. Scars glisten pink along Sasuke’s arms, but a flex and a prod prove them to be healed. “Well...it’s not p-pretty, but…”

“It’s great. Thanks, Hinata.” The prince affords her a rare smile that she returns.

A kind of tension seems to bloom...before they both glance away.

“I...I-I should see if Naruto has any wounds,” she offers, moving to stand.

“Yeah, I’ll...start working on a fire for the camp.” He watches her go, unable to help a feeling of...frustration. Like he’s missed something. Looking to his arm, fingers gently sweep over the new scar tissue. He’s sure they won’t be the last.

...and maybe he won’t mind a little healing every now and again.

     Well, not as late as last night - woo? lol      More AtLA! I've been really feeling this fandom lately, and it worked well for this prompt, too! I love incorporating some healing with Hinata, given her canon dabbling into it, what with her poultices she's been seen to make! So while she might not be a master, she can at least help Sasuke's wounds a bit.      And he doesn't mind getting a little up close and personal, it seems ;3      Anywho, that's it for today! I'm excited to have crossed the 50 day mark - and soon we'll be at two months! Kinda crazy, honestly...time's really flying. But, either way, thanks for reading!

[sparklyicecube]

He’d be proud

This is my secret santa present for @maidenofbagend for the Harry Potter Secret Santa! It’s a prongsfoot fanfic that I hope you will enjoy!

“Why must this happen to meeeeeeeeee.”

“Well well, I never thought I’d see you on the bed contemplating life, if I might guess, wondering why you like a certain deer?”

Sirius threw a pillow at the person.

“Shut up Remus. I don’t have a crush on any deer, and it’s a stag not a deer.”

Remus smirked while Sirius’s eyes widened in realisation of his mistake and buried his face in his pillow.

“Oh come on, what is it this time?” Prodded Remus.

“You know, James has done so much for me, taking me in on holidays, pranking with me, being so kind and helpful…” Sirius trailed off.

“I wouldn’t be so quick to give him those last two compliments if I were you.”

“I just,” Sirius sighed, “I want to get him something nice for christmas.”

Remus laughed, it wasn’t often that Sirius let down his cool, smug-like demeanor to show weakness like this, and the fact that this was for his best friend made it even better.

“If it’s just about that I’m sure you can find something great. Remember, it has to come from the heart.” Reminded Remus.

The door flew open as James dramatically walked in, Remus rolled his eyes and Sirius laughed.

“I’m so sorry my dear Sirius but I do quite need Remus for as long as this activity takes.” Declared James.

Remus and Sirius looked at each other, Remus shrugged and got up from where he was sitting on the bed to follow James.

Sirius kept up his cool smirk until the door closed then threw the blankets over himself in an attempt to figure out how to cool his face down.

James on the other hand was in a similar situation, except he now had a reluctant ear for him to talk to.

“Remus I called him ‘dear’!” Wailed James as soon as he stepped out of earshot. Remus wondered why his two best friends were like this. “Remus, I need to get him the best present ever! But I don’t think he even really wants anything!”

Remus sat in a comfy chair in the Gryffindor common with his book that he managed to grab, James spread out on a couch, it was practically midnight and they could talk well without any peepers, as far as they cared at least.

“Remuuuuuuus.” James whined, “What do I get him for christmas?”

Remus’s eye twitched but he didn’t snap.

“I don’t know, why don’t you wrap yourself up in a bow and give him that?” Hinted Remus.

“Best friend status doesn’t carry that far.” James complained. Remus sighed, these two were going to need a lot of pushing to get an inch past ‘best friend status’.

He went back to reading his book before another whine came from the couch.

“Remus, I know me and Sirius are close, and I know I’m irresistible, and you’re helping me but… I think he has a crush on you.”

Remus froze and put his book down, James didn’t know all the nights that Sirius spent ranting about James’s messy hair, dorky glasses, the infuriating dance between him and James that kept them always within arms length, never more never less. However, James had a point, for someone who never knew what was said, who just knew the hours and that Sirius was dying to talk to Remus for some reason, it was quite likely that it could be true. But not in this case.

“Look, I think we both know that’s not true, and even if it were, that wouldn’t stop you from getting him a magnificent christmas present or be stressed about it, so let’s work on one thing at a time okay? Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“You haven’t done your transfiguration homework?” Asked James as he caught sight of Peter’s frantic writing.

“What’s another word for ‘this shows’?” Asked a very stressed Peter.

“Try using ‘this highlights’.” Suggested Remus, taking a bite of the very delicious-looking sandwich.

The four were sitting at the dining table, eating their breakfast and doing their homework and…

“Hey Padfoot, no matter how much you stare at my muffin I’m not giving it to you.” Teased James.

Sirius snapped out of his trance-like state, from staring not at the muffin but at a certain someone Remus observed. He quickly bounced back.

“That muffin? I was just wondering how you never get sick of the same muffin everyday, really, you’re going to turn into a muffin one day!”

“Hah!” Exclaimed James. “You’re saying that but in reality you think my muffin is awesome!” The two burst into laughter.

James leaned over to peep at what Peter was writing.

“Um, I don’t think Minnie wants an essay on changing pizzas into muffins…” Commented James.

“I can’t stand it! I can’t write this! I need food!” He cried.

“I can’t wait until the holidays!” James said, ignoring Peter shovelling food into his mouth. “You guys could come over!” Realised James perking up.

“As much as I’d like to, my mom would freak if I don’t go home.” Answered Sirius with a slightly downed tone.

“Then… send me an owl when you convince her, we could meet up a week before school maybe?”

“Remember, she infiltrates all the owls.” Pointed out Sirius semi-dejectedly.

At that point the bell rang and sent the four scrambling for their books and equipment and imminent doom.

“Cleaning the trophy room is boring.” Declared James.

“Yes but we were 10 minutes late to class.” Pointed out Remus.

“Why did Professor have to split up me and Sirius?” Protested James as he attempted to wipe off the dust on a glass cabinet.

“She had a point, as long as you two were together there’d be no way the detention would be properly carried out.” Remus pointed out.

“Well in that case… Remus I still have no idea what to get him for christmas!!!” James complained, “And not much time to get it!”

“Why not a mirror, so you can feed his big ego?” Suggested Remus.

“A mirror is boring… “

“A phone?”

“What’s a phone…”

“It’s something muggles use to communicate with each other.”

“But that’s a muggle thing…” James’s eyes suddenly lit up, as if struck by a lightning bolt of inspiration. “You’re brilliant Remus! If I get him a mirror that we can use to communicate then there’s no way his mom can take it from him right? All I have to do is make it so that the mirror reflects what the other mirror should be reflecting! And audio of course… You’re a genius!”

“Well when am I not?”

Would a genius push their two best friends, who clearly want to get together, off a cliff? Yes, yes they would. Should he? Yes, yes he should. Can he? No, unfortunately there are not enough cliffs in Hogwarts that are convenient to push people off, and there aren’t any books in Azkaban. Would a genius push together, not just anyone, but Sirius Black and James Potter? The two biggest idiots and pranksters on the planet? No. Definitely not. But he shall do it anyway.

A slight trip and push landed Sirius a spot in James’s arms. It didn't end there though, nothing the marauders did ended at just that, no, James caught him like a fairy tale and spun him around. ‘Where did the rose in James’s mouth come from?’ Questioned Remus in his head. They threw their heads up in a flourish and ended on a showy pose. James looked down for a split second only the other marauders could see from their front row seats and proceeded to drop his best friend on the floor of the great hall, for now their fellow students can go back eating their dinner in peace.

James blinked in surprise then profusely apologised. Sirius made a big show of spinning his head around dizzily.

“Remus, I think I have a headache, take me to Madame Pomfrey.” Sirius then grabbed onto Remus’s hand and pulled him along out of the hall.

“What are you-”

“Remus I can't take it…” Sirius sighed. “Not that close, not that intimate just not that, you know?” Sirius looked at Remus for confirmation, a longing in his eyes.

“Then tell him already for goodness sake! It’s not my place to confess for you, you know?” Remus said.

“I would but…” Sirius looked away, “I don't think he'll say yes.”

“On what basis?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Remus, it's so obvious, he likes you.” Sirius stated sorrowfully.

Remus thought back to the time where James basically begged him to help woo Sirius, the time that Remus had to listen to an hour of ranting about Sirius’s amazing comebacks and so on, these two were crazy similar yet surprisingly dense to no one but the other.

“Look Sirius, even if he does for some insane reason have a crush on me, I’d turn him down.” Remus deadpanned. Sirius stared at him.

“What?”

“Well yeah, I don't have any feelings for James and there is someone right beside me who’d be perfect for him.” Remus nudged him with his elbow playfully.

“Thanks.” The two started walking back to the great hall. “You know I’m thinking a scrapbook…”

As they ate dinner Remus thought of possible date ideas, library? They would never. Picnic? Not grand enough. Astronomy tower? Too cramped. Now Remus was starting to reconsider the idea of pushing the two off a cliff, maybe into the lake would be more feasible. Wait, this year they can finally go to Hogsmeade! And Remus knows for a fact that the two have the signatures ready so…

“So, The trip to Hogsmeade is coming up soon, where do you two want to go first?” Asked Remus.

“I don’t know, oh! They said that they have a joke shop! Let’s all go and get materials!” Exclaimed James.

“What about the Three Broomsticks? We can all go-” Started Sirius.

“Actually,” Remus cut in, swinging his arm onto Peter’s shoulder. “Me and Peter have plans for Hogsmeade.” Said Remus calmly.

“We do?” Asked Peter blankly.

“Remember? We have some christmas shopping to do, alone.” Emphasized Remus. James and Sirius shared a mildly suspicious look.

“Better get us amazing presents!” Teased Sirius.

James and Sirius walked into the Three Broomsticks in awe, Hogsmeade was truly magical, even to those who had grew up in it. They snagged a comfy little table, they saw some of their fellow students but when they looked like they might come over they seemed to change their minds. The two were good at keeping up appearances but on the inside both were freaking out, it was so obvious that this was meant to be a cute little date for the two but they had danced this ‘best friend’ dance for so long that it was hard to step out.

“So, how is life?” Asked Sirius in a joking way, putting his face to rest on top of his palm, propping himself up.

“Well,” Began James, mimicking Sirius’s pose. “How is the most handsome person in the world?” The pickup line had been set in place, ready for Sirius to ping-pong it back but…

“Amazing, thanks for asking.” Replied Sirius coolly, making a mental note to try and quell the butterflies in his stomach.

They both laughed for a bit before discussing about a bit of light quidditch then lapsing into awkward silence.

“So… Remus and Peter went christmas shopping huh?”

“Yeah… On that note, have you gotten my gift yet?”

James had a look of terror on his face before replying: “All done and wrapped in time for christmas.” He boasted gleefully. “What about you?”

“You really think you’d be done before me? I finished ages ago.” Sirius inwardly panicked, he had started the scrapbook but it was only half-done.

“That sure is convincing.” James pointed out before bursting into laughter with Sirius.

“Are you sure about this Remus?” Asked Peter. The two of them were under James’s very handy invisibility cloak, Remus was watching James and Sirius walk into the restaurant. Remus finally explained everything to Peter (who was legitimately

unaware of everything that was happening) and made sure their unofficial date was a success. He managed to hand all the other students notes saying to keep away from the two, and was monitoring them.

“Yes. Not really but if I don’t do this now I will have to live more of this nonsense before christmas official comes.”

“Is that their new strawberry cheesecake crumpet?!” Asked Peter, dashing out, pulling off their invisibility cloak off. It was quite dark so not many noticed it but Sirius saw him and immediately made a beeline for him, almost spilling with news. James also got up and started going towards him and Remus panicked.

Remus grabbed Sirius’s hand and with some quick maneuvering managed to get it in James’s, carrying with the momentum a twirl.

“Take Sirius, dance with him, kiss him and shut him up please.” Pleaded Remus.

James looked into Sirius’s grey eyes, Sirius into James’s hazel. The bulk of the restaurant was watching. The moment stretched out and instead of dropping Sirius like the incident before (he is never going to live that down) James pulled Sirius up to connect their lips.

The entire restaurant was clapping and hooting and many stood up to give a standing ovation. There were fireworks in the background and this was truly where the both of them belonged, in the middle of a crowd right next to each other.

James hefted Sirius to his feet and they both had huge arching smiles that haven’t been seen for forever. Remus joined them as they started towards the door.

“Did something happen?” Asked Peter, sprinting to catch up with them.

The Marauders laughed and headed back towards the big castle of Hogwarts.

“Come on.” Whined James. “Your parents won’t allow you to be away on christmas, neither will yours or yours or mine!” Gesturing to all the Marauders. “And I want to see your faces when you  open my presents!”

“He holds a valid point.” Noted Sirius.

“Just Marauder presents though, I am opening all of my other presents on christmas day itself.” Finalised Remus.

The other three nodded with so much enthusiasm that Remus couldn’t help to laugh.

They started opening their presents, shouting with glee.

“A mirror?” Said Sirius quizzically, then immediately started posing in front of it.

“Nope! That’s what you think but actually, you see in this mirror what you are supposed to be seeing in the other.” Explained James with pride.

“We can see each other even when my mother doesn’t want me to!” Squealed Sirius, grabbing James and pulling him into a kiss, which, has been a regular occurrence ever since that date.

“Open mine now.” Said Sirius with excitement, passing the parcel over.

“Is this a… scrapbook?” Asked James.

“Yep! I added as many photos as I could, especially the embarrassing ones!” They spent all night looking through the book, even when the Head Prefect told them that some people needed to sleep. The four of them went home that year with the biggest smiles ever and constantly laughing, two of them with a newfound relationship and happiness.

“I remember that, you gave me and James ‘portable fans’.”

“Yep, a very good decision if you ask me.”

“What was it you said? Oh yes. ‘The next time either of you say ‘I’m so hot’ there is a fan right there.’ Very sassy.”

The two looked wistfully out of Sirius’s window.

“Do you think Harry is going to have a christmas as good as that?”

“Well if Molly gets ahold of him I guarantee you he will, and as long as you are around I’m sure he will also be happy, Sirius.” Sirius smiled sadly.

“I miss him.”

“There isn’t a soul who doesn’t.”

“Death Eaters?”

“They don’t have souls.” The two laughed slightly, not nearly as full or as carefree as they were when they were thirteen but when you are both scarred, scared and in the middle of a war, that is good enough.

“Well I’ve got to go, Nymphadora is expecting me soon.”

“Doesn’t she hate people calling her that?”

“Your point?”

“James would be proud.” Remus gave Sirius a tired smile.

Sirius sat in his room, it was decorated with red and gold, quidditch posters and so on, yes. James would be proud.

[idreamofwolves]

Old Times -Part One

Summary: Negan stumbles upon a familiar face from life before the end of the world.

Pairing: Negan (The Walking Dead) x OC

The dead walk the earth, the living survive on nothing but fuel in the form of safe houses and scraps of food they find or hunt. It wasn’t the way Emily ever thought things would be, or anyone for that matter, but there she was, hiding out in some old, abandoned cottage in the middle of the woods. She thought this would be her safe place, somewhere she could feel comfortable sleeping without the fear of being eaten by walkers in her sleep. She was wrong.

Emily had woken in the middle of the night to the sound of pounding on her front door that she’d hardly reinforced given her false sense of safety. That was mistake number one. Mistake number two came when fear started to override rational thought. Instead of running for weapons when the door cracked open, she attempted to hide herself in a small closet.

As the dead drug their feet in, they became frantic, or as frantic as the dead could be, in search for the living flesh they smelled and craved. Her hands shook and tears ran down her face. “This is it. This is how it’s going to end.” She thought, feeling more hopeless than ever.

Just when she had given up all hope, she heard something that would change the course of her awful night. The croaking sounds of walkers dying tang through the cottage, making her perk up and wonder what on earth was going on out there.

When the sounds of smashing and crushing finally came to a close, foot steps could be heard around the area. It seemed like only one person, but Emily couldn’t imagine a scenario where one person could kill so many walkers. And although it was against her better judgement, she slowly and quietly crawled out of the closet. She gasped as she was quickly met with the rotting face in hers. She threw herself into her back and took in the bloody scene around her.

Just as she started to get overwhelmed, a figure in the doorway took her attention. “Ho-ly shit!” The man exclaimed, oddly amused somehow. A barbed wire covered bat was sling over his shoulder, dripping with blood. He seemed unfazed by this. “We got a live one.”

“You did this?” She asked, not sure what she was more horrified by, the graveyard around her or the man above her that caused it without a flinch.

“Yeah and saved your ass in doing so.” He chuckled as he rest back on his heel. “What’s your name, doll?” The room was dark and she couldn’t see much, but she recognized that voice from somewhere.

“Emily.” She answered without thought, his demeanor and authoritative stance made her feel afraid, but he’d just saved her life. She couldn’t be anything less than grateful. “Thank you, for this.”

“Emily.. Have we met?” She was taken aback by the question, but upon really looking at him, she realized he was right. They’d met before, long before the outbreak.

“Negan?” She answered, trying to hold back a smile. She stood up and brushed herself off quickly before going back to the conversation. “You’re alive? What are you doing here?” She hurried to him and hugged him out of a rush of relief and joy.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He hugged her back, almost dropping his beloved bar in the process. His smile was still there, but it wasn’t the normal, cocky grin he often wore. He was shocked to find someone from his old life, relieved even. It suddenly made him miss the old days.

They’d met long before the outbreak, looking at her was like looking into the past, into a place he dearly missed when he let himself think about it.

He pulled away from him to look him in the eyes. He looked almost just as he did the last time he saw her, except maybe more muscular now. “I haven’t seen you since..” she trailed off, remembering exactly when she saw him last but didn’t want to say.

“Since the bar.” He finished, and in the back of both of their minds they remembered their first and last meetings.

Negan’s wife, Lucille, was harsh and demanding and every part of him felt his marriage had failed. They fought so often that he barely knew what it was like to laugh with a woman anymore, until he met Emily. He’d often go to the bar to get out for a while and let things cool off at home. That’s where he met her.

She was shy and new to bar tending, she wasn’t cut out for it but she was pretty and men tipped well. It wasn’t what she really wanted to do in life, but it paid the bills.

It was a slow night when Emily came into work. It was the last shift, and a short one at that. She was ready to go home as soon as she came, until she noticed the tired looking man at the end of the bar. A few others lingered as they sipped their drinks, but it was him she was interested in. “Hey.” She smiled as she gained his attention. “You okay?”

“Doin’ great doll.” It seemed like he’d actually meant to sound more honest, but it came out sarcastic. “Mind filling this up?” He slid his glass over to her, and motioned toward the nearby bottle of whiskey.

She lowly watched him as she poured the whiskey. She slid his glass back and checked on the other bar dwellers. After a few moments of contemplation, she went back to him. “Want to talk about it?” She pried, making him chuckle.

“That obvious, huh?” He rubbed his eyes with his hand and took a deep breath. “Think I’m here for the same reason most of these lonely, alcoholic bastards are here for. Angry wife.”

“Ooh. That bad, huh?” She rested her elbows on the bar and sipped on her soda. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing it’s one of two things. This is your first big fight with a wife you’re crazy in love with, which I’m going to doubt since I’ve seen you here once or twice, or this is becoming so common that you don’t know what to do anymore. Am I close?” She found it easy to talk with him, despite her normal reserved nature.

“Spot on, sweetheart.” He chuckled and sipped his drink, looking confident but deep down she knew he was feeling down.

“It’s Emily.” She smiled and lightly tapped her name tag. She got a smile out of him, which was really all she wanted.

“Negan.”

From that moment on, they bonded over broken relationships and their off sense of humor. It was an unexpected friendship laced with some kind of flirtatious nature, as time went on.

Negan quickly became attached to Emily, as he was able to use her as therapist and friend. She reminded him how to laugh, and she helped him forget about the rest of the world outside of the bar. And although the friendship was innocent enough, he knew himself enough to know he had feelings for her.

Emily, on the other hand, was incredibly oblivious to Negan’s flirting. She saw it as a joke most of the time, just friends kidding around, even if it did make her heart beat out of her chest. He wasn’t someone she ever imagined she’d want to be with, but she couldn’t help but imagine it at times. She found safety in him, as he was always there to ward off the seemingly sexual predators that frequented the bar now and then who always wanted more than a drink from her. She found solace in him, knowing she could vent if she needed to and ask for his opinion. He was honest and caring, something rare, she thought.

The last time Negan saw Emily, he knew it would be the last. The news of Lucille’s cancer made things hard for him, and he knew he couldn’t keep seeing this girl anymore. As much as it hurt him, he knew he had to let her go.

He walked into the bar, his composure slightly different than normal. His confident stride and cocky smirk had completely vanished. “Hey you.” Emily greeted him as he took his normal seat. He mumbles out some sort of greeting, but it was incomprehensible. “What’s up buttercup? Bad day?” She asked, thinking he and Lucille must have gotten into some kind of major fight.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Definitely a bad day.”

Emily frowned, she hated seeing him upset. “Whiskey kind of day, huh?” She poured him a drink but he put his hand out to stop her.

“Look sweetheart, I’m not staying today. I just wanted to drop in and give ya this.” He dropped a folder note down on the bar for her to read. He didn’t have the courage to tell her what he desperately needed to say, especially knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere anyway.

Emily picked up the letter and looked him in his sad eyes, somehow knowing she wouldn’t see him again. “What’s this?” She asked, not really wanting to open it.

He sighed and looked away for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. “Read it later, okay? Lucille’s got cancer so I won’t be around much anymore. Just thought I’d say ‘bye’ to my favorite bar tender.” He tried to make it light, but this didn’t feel good for him, it felt like a break up.

“Oh. I’m so sorry to hear that.” She nodded, squeezing the paper in her hand. “Well I hope I see you around some time, Negan.” She forced a smile, even though no part of her felt like smiling.

“Me too, princess.” He walked out, feeling more broken than he ever had. It was hard, knowing she was about to find out what he’d been feeling, and not being able to do anything about it. Not to mention the guilt he started to feel about having feelings for another woman while he was married.

It was tough on the both of them, but they never saw each other again. Not before the outbreak, that is.

“Yeah. The bar.” She said, slowly. She didn’t want to remember that night, but she still had his note. She carried it with her the moment she’d been forced to flee her home, knowing it was all she had left of him and the old life she’d lived.

“I’m real sorry about that Em.” He started, but she didn’t want him to finish.

“How’s Lucille? Is she-“

“Dead.” He said, abruptly. “She died while all the shit started hitting the fan. Turned into one of them.” He shrugged, feeling a little defeated. He hadn’t really talked about it before, but he knew he could trust her.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” She hadn’t expected that answer, somehow.

“Don’t be. I’m glad she didn’t have to deal with this shit show.” He motioned around them, and she knew where he was coming from. Part of her wished she never had to deal with it too, but the other option scared her more.

“Right.” She nodded and looked out the window. She felt nervous, never did she think this opportunity would come. Honestly she figured he was dead. “So what are you doing here? On the run?”

“Never.” He said, confidently. “I run a place called The Sanctuary. It’s an old compound we fenced in. We take in everyone we can, make deals with other communities, you know.”

“Thats sounds amazing. I’ve been on my own since this started. Somehow I’m still not any good at fighting these things.” She laughed, knowing her weaknesses.

“How the hell have you been living in this without fighting?” He asked, semi amused but mostly worried.

“I just go from house to house. I board everything up and live on the food and stuff there until it runs out, then I venture off to a new home.” She wasn’t proud of the way she’d been living, and honestly she had very little contact with anyone since the beginning. It was amazing to her not only seeing someone, but seeing someone she knew.

“Come on, come to The Sanctuary with me. We got food and hot water, even beer.” The offer was enough without the luxuries he’d mentioned. She realized she still had feelings for him, and she wondered if he still felt the way he said he did in the letter. There was only one way for her to find out.

“I’d love to, thank you.”

[inawickedlittletown]

Walking The Wire (106/?)

Summary: Tony Stark always knew about Peter Parker. He didn’t know that Peter was going to get superpowers and become Spider-Man, but he always knew about Peter because Peter was his son.

This will span from pre-Iron Man up through the rest of the MCU (eventually including Infinity War) and will be for the most part canon compliant except where I’ve taken some liberties and interpreted canon a certain way.

Pairings: Pepper/Tony, Tony/Steve (endgame), Tony/Mary (past)

A/N: If you want me to tag you when I post new chapters let me know. This fic is also on AO3

I used Collider’s MCU timeline to stay canon and the title of this fic is an Imagine Dragons song that is just so fitting for Peter and Tony

@findmeinthestarss

Masterpost

Chapter One Hundred Five

It turned out that having Michelle know he was Spider-Man and acknowledging that she did was a good thing. Michelle was just all that much better about covering for Peter. Just the other day when they’d gone on a small class trip and Peter had spotted a mugging happening, it was Michelle that had distracted everyone long enough for Peter to get away unnoticed and then again when he rejoined them.

The only thing about Michelle was that unlike Ned, she actually seemed concerned about what Peter got up to. She worried. It was weird especially when she pretended that she didn’t in person and then sent him long rambling texts about how he wasn’t being careful and how close he came to getting injured or hurting others.

It was all on par with how much coverage Spider-Man had started to get from the media which Peter didn’t particularly like. At first it had seemed cool to be mentioned on the news all the time and to have articles about Spider-Man popping up everywhere. His favorite were the YouTube videos since those were usually fun to watch mostly because they weren’t all made by anyone truly professional. But after a while, even those got old. It got annoying. Tony definitely disliked it.

“I just don’t like how interested everyone seems to be in finding out your identity,” his dad said while they were tinkering in the workshop. “It’s none of their business.”

Peter liked listening to him rant. It was kind of hilarious especially when one considered Tony’s own media presence basically his entirely life.

“And it’s not like we’ve announced that you’re an Avenger or anything but some reason they just seem to associate you with us.”

That’s when Steve spoke up. “That’s because they see you out and about with him all the time as Iron Man and Iron Man is an Avenger.”

“That isn’t the point,” Tony said.

“And also, Peter’s the only hero that’s popped up that has a hidden identity. Gives everyone a mystery to want to solve.”

Tony muttered some more and Peter tried not to laugh. He could tell that Steve was amused too.

Since all that stuff with The Vulture, Tony still did tend to show up when Peter needed help. He was better about letting Peter be involved in things especially when they didn’t involve alien tech. They had stopped some weird guy with what seemed to be some sort of power -- Tony said he was probably an inhuman -- just the other day from destroying a big portion of Greenwich Village. The guy hadn’t been doing it on purpose it turned out it. It was just that his powers were so unstable. Peter had been glad to have Tony there because he didn’t a single person could have handled everything that instance entailed. Even Vision had made an appearance for that. In the end they had subdued the guy and Tony had handed him over to a the new Shield.

“But also, it’s not just the identity thing,” Tony kept on, “it’s that there’s varying degrees of coverage. He’s good for the city. He’s a vigilante. He’s an Avenger. He’s not. It’s ridiculous. At least no one seems to have put together that I built your suit. Or at least no one’s written an article about it yet. And can you imagine if anyone found out I had a son? Because then they would definitely start questioning whether you were the one under the mask and then my parenting would come into question.”

It was no surprise to Peter that Ned loved it. He had a whole collection on articles written about him and he would send Peter the more outrageous ones and Peter would pass those on to Steve because Steve loved reading them too. May seemed to agree with Tony on the whole matter. But then, May also tended to try and get Peter to quit being Spider-Man altogether whenever she saw him and it wasn’t something that was ever likely to stop. She liked to bring up questions about school and girlfriends and college and how Spider-Man wouldn’t be an ideal addition to any of those as her way of asking him to stop.

As he stepped out of Midtown one afternoon, Peter was surprised when he spotted Tony complete with a baseball cap, sunglasses, a grin, and a thermal cup that probably contained coffee, leaning against a sleek black car that at least proved to be his least flashy. Still, no matter how hard he was trying, he looked out of place and people were noticing him.

Michelle who had walked out with him spotted Tony with no problem and when Peter glanced at her he could practically see her thinking. Her left eyebrow rose and she stared him down.

“Is Tony Stark actually picking you up right now?”

Peter shook his head. “Nope. It’s all in your imagination. You’re hallucinating.”

Michelle laughed -- cackled more like and Peter grinned back at her as she nudged him and rolled her eyes. Ned appeared then, busy with his backpack as he walked, and only managing to not run into anyone because anyone in his path dodged him.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Your boy here is being picked up by Tony Stark. Fancy that. I bet Flash will be jealous.”

“Which is why I’m going to go before anyone else notices,” Peter said and rushed away. When he looked back Michelle waved and Ned grinned at him and gave him thumbs up.

“Hey,” Peter said when he was close enough.

“Hi, kiddo,” his dad said, “I was in the area so I figured I’d come by and get you. I was also sort of craving this apple crostini this one restaurant has so we’re going to have to make a stop for that. Up for it?”

Peter rolled his eyes but nodded. “Sure.”

They got into the car and when Peter looked out the window he realized that a few people were watching them. Someone must have caught onto Tony being there. Not that it really mattered since everyone knew that Peter had a Stark Internship. Of course, no intern could have ever expected for Tony Stark himself to show up to pick them up from school. He was definitely going to hear about it.

The restaurant Tony took them to was a hole in the wall that no one would have ever noticed and yet it was busy. A well known secret. Nevertheless, they were seated at a discrete table towards the back without much wait which told Peter that Tony had called ahead.

“Why are we really here?” Peter asked.

“I told you -- apple crostini. Also, remind me to order one to go because Steve would kill us if we don’t bring him one back. We used to come here sometimes back in the day.”

“Oh,” Peter said.

His dad never really talked about how he and Steve had come to be and Peter didn’t really have any questions or want to know details, but he loved when Tony slipped in something that hinted at a past memory. It made him realize how normal it all was in some ways. Sometimes, it was still shocking to think about Iron Man and Captain America in a romantic relationship or to consider that they were getting married until he thought about them as Tony and Steve -- his dad and his dad’s fiance.

“Truth is, I wanted to catch up with you,” Tony said. “Things have been a bit crazy lately. Haven’t really spent much time with you on our own. Steve or someone else is usually around.”

Peter hadn’t -- no, he’d noticed, it was just that he hadn’t minded. He’d never expected to have Tony to himself all the time and had felt lucky when he did even if then it had been broken up to a few hours here and there and now he was living in the tower and had access to Tony all the time and it didn’t really matter that there were other people around.   

“We can start with, who was the girl?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Who, Michelle? I’ve told you about her. She’s the one that figured out I’m Spider-Man all on her own.”

“MJ. You said someone named MJ did.”

“Michelle Jones. She likes to be called MJ. Anyway, that was her.”

Tony nodded. The waitress approached then and Tony ordered the apple crostinis and remembered to order the one to go as well without Peter needing to remind him.

“So she’s super smart and observant,” Tony said.

“Yup. Definitely knew it was you waiting for me. Actually, I think a few people figured it out.”

Tony shrugged with a grin. “And they can all wonder about what your internship entails once more.”

Tony started asking about how things were going in school next and Peter filled him in even though he was sure he’d mentioned some of it to him in passing over the last few weeks.

The apple crostini turned out to be amazing. He was in the middle of telling Tony about what they’d started working on in physics when it arrived and after one bite of the crunchy and flaky crust with the warm apple filling and the ice cream and Peter was in heaven.

“I told you so,” Tony said.

“This is the best thing ever,” Peter said.

It was nice to have some time on his own with Tony. Tony told him all about how the board members were driving him and Pepper crazy because they didn’t like that Tony’s concern wasn’t all about profit when it came to the prosthetic division even when it came to custom projects.

“It’s like they don’t understand how good the PR is although that obviously isn’t why we’re doing it.”

“But it’s your company,” Peter said.

“Pepper and I own more than half of the shares of the company, sure, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have to deal with the board of directors. It’s the side of business that I don’t particularly like. Pepper is awesome at it. It’s all stuff you’ll have to learn about if you want to take over the company one day--”

“Um, what?” Peter said and almost choked on a piece of apple.

Tony chuckled. “Won’t be for a while and it’s up to you if you want it. It’s not an obligation, you know. You could find your own Pepper Potts and have someone else run it if you prefer. I rather you do what you want than what you think I want you to do so--”

Peter had sort of forgotten about how Tony had broken the news to him what felt like ages ago even though it hadn’t even been a full year yet. He’d forgotten how Tony told him that he would inherit everything as if that had been the right way to let him know that Tony was his father. Since then, Peter hadn’t really thought about it or the reality of what it actually meant which meant that it was overwhelming information to take in.

“I -- that’s--”

“What, did you forget that I’m Tony Stark? You’re my heir, kid, to this whole crazy company and whatever else I’ve accumulated.”

“But what if -- what if you and Steve have kids?” Peter asked.

It wasn’t something he’d considered before that moment, but wasn’t that what people did after they got married? They went and had kids. Peter was aware that Tony and Steve were both men but there were ways around that -- surrogacy or adoption or other weirder things. It was possible. Peter didn’t know if -- well, he didn’t know if he’d be thrilled about it if they did have kids. He felt weird even just thinking about it.

“Not really something we’ve discussed,” Tony said and he seemed to notice that Peter seemed uncomfortable. “And even if we did decide to have kids it wouldn’t be for a long while, Pete.”

“Oh,” Peter said. But they could still have some even if Peter was fully grown when they did--

Tony grabbed his hand. Tony’s hand was warm and familiar and Peter allowed himself to calm down. “Peter, you’re my kid. I -- I love you, kid. Not something that will ever change. I’ll always be here for you no matter what. Even if Steve and I adopt a hundred kids. You’re still always going to be my son and you’re the most important person in my life.”

Peter hadn’t expected Tony to say that. Those three words. Tony had said them before, he was sure, but Peter couldn’t actually remember. He certainly hadn’t expected them in the moment.

“I don’t think even Steve will want to adopt that many kids,” Peter said.

“If he even wants to,” Tony said with a shrug. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t be opposed to another kid -- it’s just I’d be fine with just you.”

“Oh,” Peter said. “But you didn’t get to raise me. Not really. Don’t you want that -- the whole baby thing?” Peter didn’t really understand why people were so keen on babies. He knew they were cute but they also cried and made messes and couldn’t really do anything and he actually -- he couldn’t see Tony or even Steve dealing with a baby well.

“That doesn’t matter. Clearly, it doesn’t. You’re still my kid, Peter, and as has been established you clearly need me a lot too no matter what your age is.”

Peter nodded. “I kind of do,” Peter said and then because he couldn’t say anything else, “I, um, I love you too, dad.”

He thought that Tony’s eyes got a bit misty at that and Peter realized that he’d never actually said it out loud before. But it was true. It had been true for a while. Peter loved Tony. He loved his dad and everything that he was and did for Peter. He was one of the best people he knew and Peter would forever be glad that he knew who his father was and that it was someone as amazing as Tony Stark.

Chapter One Hundred Seven

[hogsteeth-archive]

alright then i answered one of them oc questions things for both versions of ira bc like. why wouldnt i. first answer is 1976 58y/o rhodesian ira, second answer is 201x 16y/o houstonian ira. i just wanted to figure out how different they really are. questions from here. if readmores still dont work on mobile im sorry lmao

what are some things they have strong opinions about?

he has sort of a cioranian attitude to the value of life, like, hes one of them “theres always reason to kill a man, theres no way to justify his living” types. he doesnt believe in nationalism per se but he does believe in war, hes literally a mercenary, and hed probably get along just fine with someone like mike hoare, but hes not one for unnecessary cruelty. hes kind to who he considers innocent. if he was alive today i can see him getting grouped w/ like, anti-natalists, right-wing “primitivists,” people who browse /fo/, people who think theyll thrive in the post-apocalypse even though they cant even spin yarn, people who dont understand fallout, you know, those types, but i like to think his attitude wrt civ is closer to perlmans or, well, mine. its a good thing he doesnt live in internet times. he thinks technology makes people complacent and weak and hes fallen into the trap of the “noble savage” myth; sign of the times. he could just as easily live off the grid in like, alberta, but he chose to stay in southern africa bc of his colonial attitudes & fetishization of the “less developed.” (sidenote, if youre like, new here n reading this for some reason, yea i write like really really bad characters were talking irredeemably evil here, just like, know that im aware of that.) also he detests hippies for both bad and good reasons ⸻ not much, really, hes an opportunist, a hedonist, hes selfish, goes w/ the flow. he thinks denying yourself pleasure for no reason is microfascism — not in those words — and while he doesnt think that selfishness leads to a bettering of overall society, hes no randian, he feels justified in what he does. hes uh, a mercenary in spirit and ive always intended to have him join the marines n later work for a pmc but were nowhere near there yet

what traits do they like in other people? what traits do they not like?

he likes people (men, that is) that are exactly like him. he likes Narrator bc hes just as quiet, as patient, as stubborn, as antisocial (using that the right way here, i like, know about psychology), as violent, as old-timey-ly masculine as he is. he can tolerate clade (his former accountant) bc she keeps to herself and shes loyal to a fault, but he doesnt go out of his way to like, actually talk to her. he likes will bc he reminds him of what he was like as a child living with his matabele mother. ⸻ he hates everything he perceives as weakness, but hes not all that open about that, i think hes not even 100% aware thats what it is. he needs to be talked back to. he lacks compassion, doesnt know how to deal w/ anyone whos less resilient and abrasive than himself.

do they have a significant other? if so, who?

i mean, theres Narrator — thats kinda what this whole thing is about. but theyll never think of each other that way. its complicated. theyre uh… closer to being marlow and kurtz than to being boyfriends. idk how to explain it. its bad. ⸻ hes fake-dating millah for appearances and secretly seeing jack, im not sure about the details either so im not getting into that, but hes eventually gonna meet will; ive written their first encounter like ten different ways and i still dont really know what i wanna do w/ them........ also Complicated

whats their friend group like? what role do they play (leader, mom friend, etc.)?

he lives in a hut he built w/ his bare hands on the edge of the kalahari. his friends are one horse and one vaalboskat. ⸻ he uses his friends but they use him too. hes reasonably popular bc hes athletic n wealthy, but i think the only one of his friends who really truly sees thru his act is millah, and bc he doesnt take her seriously as a threat, she has more control over him than he realizes.

do they care about their physical appearance? whats their routine like?

nah ⸻ not really. he showers too often and his hairs kinda dry but other than that hes like. Normal. idk i dont care about these things

do they have any physical or mental disabilities?

i dont think so ⸻ he has adhd

what would they die for? kill for?

oh hes not picky. he joined the military at 17, hes made peace w/ the prospect of dying. hes been more uncomfortable w/ the thought of growing old, actually. and again, hes literally a mercenary. not a big deal to him. ⸻ i dont think hes selfless enough to die for anyone. hed kill to protect the people he cares about, but thats more just bc hes possessive. im sure thats gonna come up eventually. i cant really write shit w/o weaving murder in somewhere.

do they have any magical powers or abilities? if its a realistic world, what religion do they follow?

absolutely the fuck not i hate magic. hes not religious, actually feels a little intimidated by religion. in one version of his story he spends his 50s on east nusa tenggara where he doesnt live far from a church, and he makes peace w/ the concept of god thanks to the influence of catholic-raised Narrator, but i doubt hell ever actually step foot into a church, or temple, or mosque, or what-have-you. hes internalized some things during his upbringing though that he doesnt classify as religious. little superstitions. he likes to keep objects that may be used for divination around his house, but he never touches them. ⸻ not religious, but if he had to pick, like to pretend, hed say baptist.

do they celebrate any holidays? how do they celebrate?

nah ⸻ like, the regular american ones. hell welcome any excuse to drink and to socialize, and id say his favorite holiday is the 4th of july, really just bc he likes warm weather and theres not a lot else you can celebrate in the middle of summer. hes not attached to the significance of any holidays. hes not crazy about christmas but he likes his family well enough and hell go along w/ it all, just to have sth to do. hes not good w/ time off.

if they were the protagonist in any book series, what series would they choose? alternatively: what would be their favorite book?

he doesnt really read but hed feel right at home inside heart of darkness or maybe the thin red line. or maybe sth by mccarthy ⸻ hes 16 he hasnt read jack shit. i wanna say deleuze would probably resonate w/ him bc hes a total self-insert but i really dont know. i try to keep the intertextuality way low bc i hate that shit in most fiction, so like, i try not to think too much about other books here

do they have any vices?

uh he drinks and he occasionally smokes opium but compared to most of my characters hes pretty okay wrt that ⸻ yea like… all of them. already said hes a hedonist make of that what u will

do they play any instruments?

nope ⸻ violin but he hasnt been practicing a lot lately

what would their favorite ride at an amusement park be?

hes never been to one ⸻ i feel like hed be into sth really lame… like you know that video by jenny nicholson, top ten lame things to do at disney world? sth like that. like hed go just to get a specific food item or to admire the infrastructure

what animal would they say best represents them?

hyena 100%. the spotted kind. id say tortoise also but hed find that insulting ⸻ id say hyena but hed be reluctant to answer that bc hes a Youth and he knows what a furry is

how do they act when theyre drunk?

vulnerable. little more talkative. he talks to himself (or the cat, rather) sometimes ⸻ more abrasive/tactless/impulsive. he talks w/ his whole body and feels like moving/running bc, again, self-insert

which era of history would they most like to live in?

the old west, like early to mid-19th century, maybe late 18th. that or like the really olden days, like mid-paleolithic ⸻ idk maybe like ten or twenty years earlier. i think he fits the 21st century pretty well. hes a curious person though and if he had a time machine hed go Everywhere at least once

whats their favorite food?

ah thats. complicated actually i have a whole list of foods that remind me of Narrator but ive never gotten around to making one for ira. hm. he likes poultry, like ostrich. white fish. dry/salty foods. sour fruit. breadfruit. fatty dark meats, blood sausage. hes not picky though, hell live on pap and water if he has to. ⸻ i genuinely dont know. im not used to the contemporary western setting yet like… pop tarts exist in the same world as he does and im not comfortable w/ that yet. like, branded food articles wrapped in plastic. thats so weird to me. i guess he likes (american) pizza w/ greens on it, like spinach? and seafood. sour candies, maybe, i dont think he has much of a sweet tooth. he puts salt n butter on potatoes and cottage cheese on pancakes.

what songs remind you of them?

conveniently theres a whole playlist rite here

whats their favorite season and why?

dry season. he doesnt like cloudy/foggy weather bc it makes him feel trapped when he cant see as far. ⸻ summer. i honest to god think people liking cold weather is a conspiracy like im not sure thats even biologically possible. like summer is the obvious answer here

which d&d class would they play as?

nah we dont do nerd shit round these parts

whats their favorite expletive?

he like, barely talks ⸻ nothin weird thats for sure, we campaign for simple straight-forward language in this house. having a Favorite is inherently at odds w/ that. bad question

whats their favorite candle scent?

no scented candles in the desert ⸻ sth fruity but not sweet, like mixed berries, sth red or purple

how do they feel about death?

he doesnt ⸻ hed feel cheated by life if he died young. he has a lot to see and do and itd like, bum him out not to get to do that but hes not afraid of death

do they collect anything? whats their most prized possession?

he lives pretty austerely but he does keep little rocks and gems and bones and pieces of wood n such. also coins from all the countries hes been to bc hes a simple old man. i wanna say his most prized possession is his hogs tooth bc he does value the marines a lot still. its where he first met Narrator :-) ⸻ he really appreciates gifts people give him, things that remind him of people. jack carved him an eagle once

do they play any sports?

no ⸻ nothing too organized. i dont think hes on any school teams bc idk if he has the time but that might change. he does run/hunt/fish/shoot

what one place do they really want to visit and why?

he likes deserts, wide open spaces. hes been to the kalahari n namib but not the gobi/sahara/simpson etc, so, those. no ice deserts though those scare him ⸻ polynesia/southeast asia, just tropical places in general. bc theyre nice what do you want me to tell you. tropics good

what languages do they speak?

northern ndebele, afrikaans, english (w/ various influences), some vietnamese ⸻ english, some cajun french, some spanish

what are some items they always carry? what weapon do they favor using if they exist in a world where weapons are necessary?

hes got his fal obviously and he does always carry a knife, just to be safe. more out of habit than actual necessity (not to imply rural areas were safe in the late 70s, but he lives in the literal wilderness, hes not much of a target. stays away from roads and all that.) ⸻ man hes really not as classy as i want him to be :/ he probably has like, a glock 17 w/ ten thousand pointless modifications n some uglyass stipling pattern. hes a little bit paranoid + irresponsible n carries all kinds of shit he doesnt need, mostly way too much cash

which emoji would they use the most?

no ⸻ he doesnt have a phone, hell maybe use a burner if he has to. this is an anti-phone household

what fantasy race would they be? if they already are one, pick a different one.

absolutely not

do they want to start a family? if they already have one, describe it.

no ⸻ no

what stereotypical high school clique would they fit into?

hed swing between the jrotc kids n the stoners honestly, but still mostly keep to himself ⸻ hes like, too much of a jock for the Delinquents, too much of a Delinquent for the jocks. hes really only popular bc hes rich-ish n blessed w/ good looks, and by association w/ millah

whats one thing that they dont need do they waste the most money on?

he doesnt ⸻ everything. hes really wasteful. he buys more food than he can eat, clothes he never wears, etc etc, hes terrible

what kind of shoes do they wear?

combat boots or just traditional sandals. the terrain around his house is mostly grass and flat boulders so he goes barefoot a lot ⸻ regular tennis shoes, nothin too fashionable bc he cant be bothered to keep up w/ trends, but usually clean n new. hiking boots when hes not w/ his regular friend group

do they believe in ghosts, aliens, and the occult in general?

really dont like how aliens are always grouped in w/ esoteric shit bc like, thats like asking if you believe in atoms honestly. no shit “aliens” exist thats like not up for debate. both iræ would agree w/ me here. 70s ira doesnt believe in like, Ghosts per se, but he has some vague concept of spirits that he got from his mother. he sees/feels them when hes half asleep. ⸻ 2010s ira doesnt believe in jack shit

which deadly sin do they most correspond to? which heavenly virtue?

nooo cardinal sins dont work that way theyre not hogwarts houses. its so much more complicated than that thats impossible

if you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, what would it be?

hmmm four of swords? knight of coins? eight of cups? this is hard ⸻ seven of swords? nine of cups? the devil? i dont know

what do they consider to be their best quality? what actually is their best quality?

his strength, which is really just his callousness and lack of convictions. and uh. i guess his independence ⸻ same here for the first part. and. maybe his loyalty? i dont consider loyalty a good thing personally idk

what do they consider to be their worst quality? what actually is their worst quality?

his lack of social skills maybe? he doesnt need them too often of course but like, the first time Narrator showed up at his doorstep he was genuinely nervous and that did fill him w/ some semblance of shame and in his eyes he should be good at everything, so like. that. really its his lack of conviction and his timidness/avoidance of the world ⸻ his dependence on others/lack of discipline. really its his lack of compassion, like, obviously

[strawberryspeachy]

I was so scared he was gonna hurt me.

Why did he have a picture of another girl in his wallet after telling me that he hadnt had a girlfriend in a year. Why did he hum when i asked about it. Why did he take over a day constantly to respond. Why did he have an excuse as to why he couldnt talk on the phone everytime it wasnt planned. Why didnt he message me asking about me and barely even responded to my messages. Why didnt he seem to want to see me. Why was he able to go to a salan with pink eye but not see me or call me. Why did he saying crazy nice things the same night that he met me. Was he really sick. Did his phone rlly break. Was he really sleeping

I was paraoid and asked him if he was talking to another girl and if thats why he kept taking so long to respond and told him he gave me a yeast infection

I said mean things when he responded to a fake account instead of me

And again got confrontational when he cancelled the date that i had planned to use to see if he actually cared about me and if i could trust him

Writing is all shortly here i sound so stupid. Like. Why did i try to beleive him? Obviously he was rlly just cheating on me all along

But i have been blaming myself over and over. Wondering if i caused him to eventually cheat on me

That last time. The date he cancelled and i confronted him to break up. And he conned me out of money instead. I was mad and upset and confrontational. He said it was ok. He wouldnt let me go back to his house to cuddle or anything- but said if i paid for a hotel then he wouldnt be tired! I didnt. And the manga cafe he took me too ended up being more expensive than he said because they wanted a card made. And i was so stressed and upset. That i just got emotional and didnt rlly use words. He took us from the front desk and i asked if he had even just 5 dollars for it

And im supid. Im stupid im stupid im stupid.

We talked about our birthdays on the first date cause mine was soon. He said his bday passed recently. And he said he wanted to celebrate my bday with me. I suggested we celebrate his late too and asked what he wanted to do

He immediately told me as though wed been together for a long time already - that he wants something from an expensive brand he likes and that clothes bags or accessories from there would make him happy.

I thought it was a lot to ask of someone you just got together with but didnt comment and asked what his favorite food is. He told me he wanted to eat yakiniku (rlly expensive japanese bbq)

And when i said mean things and afterwards apologized and asked if he could forgive me. He said he would if I bought him an accessory.

And that day he just kept pushing to see how much money he could grt me to spend on him and made sure to spend as much as possible on food no matter where wed go

And i knew all along but yet just let this shit happen

The manga cafe

We went out and i was sulking. I expected him to actually start walking away. To threaten to leave me there... he didnt. Hed walked ahead but came back and took my hand.

The mood became good again with some affections

And why im writing this is.... i told him before the day that i wanted the date because as id told him several times - the lack of affetion he gave me made me feel bad and i wasnt shown that someone cares about me i cant beleive it. If i know it i can have faith and trust. But ive been hurt to often to blindly trust.... and it shouldnt be that fucking simple - i shouldnt be.

How many people in my life have actually looked at me get emptional. And just walked away. Legit left me. I dont mean after the fact. Like out somewhere. I do or say something someone doesnt quite like - they just leave me - i have to chase after.

And he didnt... (physically)

So despite the fact that his story was even mor suspicious

I enjoyed my day with him...and i rlly thought maybe he rlly cared...

Two days later i made myself a salad for lunch. Right as i took it out if my fridge it exploded out of the container and all over the floor

I had sprayed bug spray on that very spot a few days before.

I threw the salad back in the box and angerly cleaned - now late when i had been early to leave for work

And so i ate it at work - for the first time a bit worried about poisoning myself.

And i probably started having a panic attack but I attributed the dizzyness and heavy chest and shorg breathe to

Maybe. I ate the bug spray

Usually in a situation like this i think - good. I hope it kills me.

But i thought myself thinking no - i dont want to die - i hope i didnt poison myself. Im not ready - i wanna see where this all goes with my boyfriend

I actually hoped not to die over him.... for just that moment. I was happy for a moment

[itslovewithyouthings]

BLOG TOUR – Ready For His Rule by Angel Payne @AngelPayneWrtr Captain Jo… https://ift.tt/2YKbThj

BLOG TOUR – Ready For His Rule by Angel Payne @AngelPayneWrtr Captain John Franzen. Inside the lines… It's the definition of life for Tracy Rhodes and she has no choice about that. Lines–lots of them–are what happens when one is sworn in as second-in-command of the free world. But the lines are crushed beneath the boots of Captain John Franzen assigned as a special advisor to her security team for a high-profile event in Vegas. The towering warrior with the haunted stare shatters her composure invades her libido and makes her yearn for things she shouldn't. Sweaty illicit things…with her body pinned beneath his… Outside the boundaries… John Franzen six and a half feet of rigid composure on the outside is a lost man on the inside. Why the hell is he even alive? A guy isn't supposed to survive eleven years in Special Forces especially after the crazy missions he's been assigned. Accepting the security gig in Vegas is just a favor to a friend–a way to fill time that's become too damn empty lately. Until the cushy "babysitting job" becomes the most treacherous mission of his life–and the politician he's protecting becomes the woman in his bed. The lover beneath his bonds… The submissive he longs to claim forever. Breaking all the rules… She's destined for marble halls and an oval office. He's wired for dirt and violence. Will her passion be enough to tame his demons…to claim the ultimate wild boy as her own? AMAZON UShttp://amzn.to/2ndKY9i AMAZON UK I iBOOKS I NOOK I KOBO He pulled back watching his hand curl on itself in midair. He thought of all the damage that fist had done to so many shitheads and losers over the years but was now a symbol of utter helplessnessinches from a person he was aching to help. Fate was getting in all its best taunts today. His spirit hadnt agonized this much even when the news about Nichols had come out. And the pain in this stall is about youhow? Easy answer. It wasnt. But no way in hell was he leaving her in here all but drowning herself in several senses of the word. If she ordered him all the way out of the shower then hed abideand simply sit on the tile outside. One puddle for another; no difference to him physicallybut he would stay here for her whether she asked for it or not. Even if it fucking killed him. For now he chose to simply settle back on his haunches. Nearly as an afterthought reached and cranked the spray off. In the eerie silence after Tracy joined her quiet sniffs to the heavy drops of the draining water. John re-balled both his hands hating even the inches between them. To not even touch her let alone resist the baser need to clutch her close Fuck. Waterboarding had nothing on this shit. And the worst part hadnt even sunk in. Shes just following your lead asshole. That was the worst part. In protecting her from his secret side hed been locked out of her secrets too. In shielding her from his darkness shed made sure he stayed right therein the dark. Away from the ability to even give her some light Moron. You. Same sentence Keoni John Franzen. Finally she snuffled with more determination. Jerked up her head a little long enough to slide him a furtive side-eye but nothing more. She pulled her hand all the way back in tucking it beneath her chin as she settled her head against the wall again. I want to talk to Craig. A brutal exhalation left him. His throat tightened. His chest compressed. Hell nothing was comfortable. Nor was it meant to be. I know you do he murmured. Imscared. Screw uncomfortable. Everything was agonyespecially when she wouldnt even let him do anything about it. No. When hed pushed her away out in the bedroom letting her walk away with the impression that he wouldnt do anything. I know you are. At least he had words. Paltry proxies but theyd have to suffice somehow. I have no idea what to do. But you dont have to figure it out alone kuuipo. Her face contorted again though not with impending tears. Her eyes flared with irritation. Dont call me that. He barely repressed a grin. Youre gorgeous when youre all hissy kitten. Yeah? Well I have Tigress claws remember? Fine fine. He held up both hands. Maybe you just want maam again? And maybe you just want me to hunt down a flattening iron. His chuckle was impossible to tame. Her glower went from simmering to smoky. He had no idea there were so many nuances of gray. In her eyes they were all fascinating. Maybe you can just close your eyes and pretend Im Craig. The offer was sincerehe was up for any creative solution herebut her laughter high and biting was nowhere near a vote of approval. Thats so not going to happen. He frowned. Why not? Because Id know the difference. How? John. Her laugh mellowed to a watery eye roll. He suddenly knew how Luke must feel when a test wasnt studied for. Id know the difference between you and any other man. And just like that no more feeling like her teen kid. Feeling everything like the jerk whod probably made the biggest mistake of his life with her earlier and would spend the rest of his mortal days cussing himself out for it. Fuck. Might as well start now. Kuuipo. Her tigress side flared in a swift snarl. What didnt you understand about not calling me that? And what dont you understand that Im only here to help? The backlash his higher ground pick of a reply was still better than choice two: smashing one hell of a kiss on her feisty lips. It slipped. So skewer me. Her regard softened. Its okay. Justbe careful. Now he was the one clinging to his scowl. You dont even know what it means. I can guess by your tone. And thats a bad thing? When your voice alone makes me want to come over there and maul you? Yeah. She glanced again letting her stare linger longerto his intense pleasure. More intense than he wanted to admit but couldnt deny. Not when the heat from his skin met the wetness of his clothes and created a new experience for him. Steam Bathin SenSurround. Tracy. He heeded her requestthe tone was new; perhaps the first time hed ever used it outside a bondage dungeon beforethough its replacement was just as merciless. Perhaps more so. He issued her name as a declarationa command. Nothing hed ever use on his battalion members because this asked for a different kind of obedience. No. Demanded it. What? Shed dropped her head but lifted it again. Her eyes had turned huge as a pair of London moons. Do youwantto maul me? For the first time since hed crawled in here her body loosened. She opened up a little still staring with the moon in her eyesonly now joined by the comets in her energy. Untamed rogue cometsall aimed his direction. Want isnt the word Id use. Flames licked the edges of her voiceand now the length of his cock. Fuck how this woman got to him. How her spirit and sass challenged him. How her desire affected him Tracy. He didnt hesitate about wielding the dungeon command now. Doubly deep three times as severe. Wh-what? Oh yeah. He also liked it when her defiance wobbled a little. What would it be like to make it shake a lot? Get over here and maul me. USA Today bestselling romance author Angel Payne has been reading and writing her entire life though her love for romances began in junior high when writing with friends on "swap stories" they'd trade between classes. Needless to say those stories involved lots of angst groping drama and gooey kissing. She began getting a paycheck for her writing in her twenties writing record reviews for a Beverly Hills-based dance music magazine. Some years various entertainment industry gigs and a number of years in the hospitality industry later Angel returned to the thing she loves the most: creating character-based romantic fiction. Along the way she also graduated with two degrees from Chapman University in Southern California taking departmental honors for English before writing five historical romances for Kensington and Bantam/Doubleday/Dell. Angel found a true home in writing contemporary-based romances that feature high heat and high concepts focusing on memorable alpha men and the women who tame them. She has numerous book series to her credit including the Kinky Truth series the Secrets of Stone series (with Victoria Blue) the W.I.L.D. Boys of Special Forces series and the acclaimed Cimarron series. Temptation Court a new series being launched through the Dark Nights Discovery project debuts in 2016. Angel still lives in Southern California where she is married to her soul mate and lives on a street that looks like Brigadoon with their awesome daughter and Lady Claire the dog with impeccable manners. When not writing she enjoys reading pop culture alt rock cute shoes enjoying the outdoors and being a gym rat. FACEBOOK I TWITTER I WEBSITE I NEWSLETTER Blog Tour

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BLOG TOUR – Ready For His Rule by Angel Payne @AngelPayneWrtr Captain Jo… https://ift.tt/2YKbThj

[mystiqmindofmadness]

If I learned anything in this life

Its to be who you want, believe in yourself and everything you do. Fall in love with yourself, be crazy beautiful. Smile when you feel like crying because someone out there is looking up to you and goes thru their everyday unacknowledged but steady having hope and faith that they too will be like you. No matter how bad you think you have it someone around you has it ten times worse. The shy girl you smiled at and told her she was beautiful? Shes got suicidal thoughts and thinks she will never be good enough, congratulations you saved her life today. You dont give respect just to get it, thats just a common sense thing put into action. Sing like no ones watching no matter how you think you sound, its good to express how you feel without having to put it into your own words. Thats where poems and writing come in to play....self expression. Someone that loves you will never put you in a situation that jeopordizes being with you. If someone wants to see you they will make time for you no matter the schedule. Honesty is both looked highly upon and a way to avoid a headache later on in a web of bullshit lies.

I run away from everything. I dont know why I do it, or even how or when it even started. I have my days where i dont wanna be myself, I put my hair extensions in and layer on make up and put on the sexiest most extravagant outfit i can find......and I enjoy my time being beautiful. I dont feel as if im beautiful any other way righht now.

I used to be dating a man who kissed me and stopped me while i was at it and said no no no mama ima give you kissing lessons from here on out.....and made me fall more and more each time he had me do the same thing he did to me while kissing me. He would cuddle with me and snuggle up and ask me how my day went and if i was feeling okay and if i had ate or not. Wed crawl into bed and hed get real close and say come here mama.....and id lay on his chest or hed hold me while on our sides and all the sudden.....hed say......."Hi" .......that alone brings a tear to my eye because hed only do that when he could see im going thru it and needed to refocus on reality and the fact that he was right there and everything would be alright n to stop stressin. Id fall fast asleep hed be right there all thru the night , id wake up hed be all sunshine and daisys. Talkin bout wakey wakey sleepy head youre beautiful i missed you.......

You can imagine how it felt to have him tell me....come here mama.....hi.....i dont like how i feel i dont understand it i probably never will i just want you to know that im sorry for anything i may have said that hurt your feelings . I never meant to make you sad ever and I hope things for you go beyond your wildest dreams i got love for you you my ride or die shawty you was there when i needed someone.....youre a good girl robin elaine and dont let no one tell you different or destroy you.....stay beautiful....please for me. Im not gonna be here much longer i know im not i dont know how or why or when but i cant do this shit no more you hear me......and i held him close relating to how he felt.....every last word every detail is how i been feelin deep down ....we laid there and cried and held one another. I prayed he wasnt being literal or talking seriously. I was hoping no matter what that hed stay up and be strong.....Its not even about staying strong because he was a soldier. I love him still to this day hes gone but never forgotten. He lives on in my heart and I still see glimpses of him in other people and it soothes me brings me back to old times and makes me feel a little bit like i did when I wish we werent living life in the fast lane and I wish I woulda held him tighter, said i love you more often and prove it nonstop no matter what but we ended up fighting.....he ended up getting with someone who decided his fate.....we werent on speaking terms ....i hate the fact that it all played out like it did.....if we wouldnt of got into it.....where would we be? Would he still be here next to me? Would he of even had that chance to get with the chick that let it all happen......i hate that my mind is so crazy at times.....i miss you steven michael. Rest Easy.

Brings into effect dont take people forgranted tomorrow is not promised today.

Music is the simplist form of magic. When youre up you like the beat and when youre down you understand the lyrics. You feel em if they hit home.

[adambstingus]

Every Halloween, I Have A Story I Like To Tell

I liked Ben, I really did. I mean, he was a nice guy. We had some fun times together in college, messing around the dorm, going to parties, all the dumb shit that college guys do. He was cool and all, but he was a little pretentious. Well, I guess the word he used was artistic. He thought he was real smart, spent a lot of time trying to prove it to everyone. He had his own blog developed to film critiques not the big ones, though. Just little indie productions because nothing else was worth his time. When he got like that, he could be pretty insufferable.

Perhaps the most annoying thing that he did was performance art.

Now, I dont wanna be the guy who says that all performance art is dumb. But yeah, no, all performance art is dumb. Oh, look, youre on display painting a picture of Jesus from your own urine, how original and edgy! Maybe Im a little jaded, but it always seemed so contrived to me. Unfortunately, Ben really loved it. He thought there was something beautiful in art that was physically living and he devoted an embarrassing amount of time to it.

Anyway, I hung out with Ben a few times after college, but we mostly just met up to do some heavy drinking and maybe hit a strip club or two. He considered THAT performance art as well, which was just fine with me, it gave me an excuse to waste some ones. Since we didnt hang out very often, I had a bad feeling when he contacted me about a month before last Halloween.

He called me up at about seven in the morning on a Saturday, which is too early to even consider waking up, in my opinion. I answered in a daze and he started running his mouth like crazy, as though afraid that, if he didnt get it all out at once, he never would.

Mike, hey, Mikey, listen, buddy, I need your help, okay? Okay, okay, Ive got this idea for a performance and, well, its going to be , you know? So good! Its going down on Halloween. Can you come help? Look, Ill even pay you, man. Fifty dollars. So how bout it?

Now, Ive never cared much about Halloween one way or the other, and Im a pretty easy guy. Fifty dollars to probably just sit there and run a fog machine or some bullshit? For the right price, I could even pretend that I wanted to be there. Besides, what else are friends for?

A few days later, he gave me the details. To be honest, I was a little shocked when he sent the email. I know that performance art is intended to be edgy and can sometimes get a little dangerous, but this seemed downright negligent.

Mike:

Thanks for agreeing to do this for me! Ive talked to a few other people, but they werent really comfortable with it, for reasons youll probably be able to figure out. Of course, I understand if you want to back out, but I think you are probably the most reliable person I know. Its really not that big of a deal, Im sure youll agree.

As Im sure youve noticed, vampires have become very prominent in the media as of late. I say vampires because they are beginning to deviate so wildly from the traditional myths that they resemble forest fairies more than anything else. Altruistic? Sparkly? Whiny? Give me a break. We need more Dracula! We need more Carmilla! We need more death, destruction, and blood!

My performance will center on the theme of rebirthing the vampire. For the vampire to be reborn, he must first be buried. To turn peoples attentions back to the myths of old, I will be doing just that: I will be burying the vampire.

I have a group of viewers signed up already to participate in the performance, so you dont need to worry about that. Im going to plant a series of vampire-themed clues around town for them to follow. The clues should be pretty simple, and it will probably take no more than an hour to an hour-and-a-half for them to find me.

Here comes the somewhat controversial part. Essentially, for this performance to have any semblance of meaning, I need to be buried alive. Dont worry, its perfectly safe: I have a buddy from back home who is building me a coffin with a hole in the top. Ill be fixing it with a pipe that will stick an inch or two above the ground. That way, I wont run out of air. Ill also have a few necessities in the coffin in case something happens: food, water, and a flashlight.

Once they arrive at my grave which will be completely vampirized they will be provided with an array of shovels and will bring me back to life, a reincarnation of the true mythological history of vampires.

Here is where you come in. I need you to bury me. In addition, I need you to be my safety net: if they cant find me, if something goes wrong, if I become sick, I need you to be the one to get me out or call the police, if necessary. Ill also need you to decorate my grave, make it really creepy dont worry, Ill send you some blueprints.

I know this is a little stressful and it may take some time for you to decide, but, rest assured, this is a completely safe project. Theres no danger of suffocation and the coffin is sturdy, so its very unlikely that it will collapse. I really just need you there for support and the actual hard work of burying me.

What do you say? Id even be willing to up your pay to a hundred dollars, if thats what you need.

Let me know!

RIP,

Ben

I stared at my screen for a few minutes, completely dumbfounded.

Once I cut through all the bullshit about art and vampires and rebirth, what it came down to was death.

This guy actually wanted me to almost kill him.

I mean, sure, it probably WAS safe. But my mind went over the plan slowly. What if I couldnt get him out in time? One shovel and a pit of dirt wouldnt be a fast job. Furthermore, what if something happened to me?

Before making a decision, I sent him another email asking if he was really sure he was up for this. Of course he knew, he said. And then he said something that would always stick with me.

Art must be a little dangerous, my friend, for it to be real.

A month later, I found myself standing at the foot of a grave. It was six feet deep and perfectly rectangular. Sitting at the bottom was a tapered coffin covered with black lacquer, a white skull painted on the top. In the eye of the skull was a hole just big enough for the PVC pipe. Stenciled underneath was a line from Dracula: Denn die Todten reiten schnell.

I stood there like an idiot, waiting for Ben to show up.

In the end, Id decided to go along with his stupid gig. Ben was a stubborn bastard, and if I didnt help him, someone else would. At least, thats the justification I gave myself. But the real reason was that, deep inside my heart, his words were still echoing.

Id ended up doing a little more work than I had intended. For one, I had to place his stupid clues around the city. It wasnt hard work, but it took some time to get them all in the proper places. Luckily for Ben, they were pretty obvious clues. There was no need to worry that his participants would be unable to find him.

Ben had set up the grave and the coffin a few days prior to Halloween. It was out in the woods just on the outskirts of town, no chance of it being disturbed. Id tried to talk him out of burying it the whole six feet down.

If something happens and I need to get you out fast, what will I do? Cant you put it closer to the surface?

Ben had just shaken his head in exasperation. You just dont get it, do you? It has to be done right. Remember what I told you.

So I shrugged and let him mess around with whatever dumbassery would get him off.

I was just beginning to wonder if I should have brought more beer this promised to be a long night when Ben showed up.

I had to restrain my laughter when I saw his getup. A cheap Dracula costume from Wal-mart had never looked so pathetic, especially when topped off with those cheap plastic fangs. Hed greased his hair back and painted on a widows peak.

I couldnt resist. Wow, seriously, dude?

He gave me a stern look. Its a comment on the commercialization of vampires and horror as we know it today. He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a walkie talkie. Here, take one. The range isnt very far, but my cell phone wont work that far underground. Youll have to stay nearby. Let me know if youre going out of range.

I shrugged and took it. Okay, but you brought your cell just in case, right?

Nah, what good will it do if it doesnt work?

This guys batshit insane, I thought. But he handed me the hundred dollars and, suddenly, it didnt seem to matter anymore.

I helped him into the coffin and shut the lid. He seemed pretty calm if it were me, I knew Id be having a panic attack. I fit the PVC pipe into the hole. It slid in perfectly snug. I climbed out of the coffin and grabbed my shovel, taking one last look at the shiny black peeking out from the dirt.

With a resigned shrug, I started to shovel in the dirt. Okay, well, he asked for this, I thought.

It took almost a full hour to get all the dirt piled in. The PVC pipe was just barely visible over the grave. I piled the earth around it to hide it as well as I could. Then, I set up the rest of the grave: a hideously gothic headstone made of Styrofoam, and cheap Wal-mart flowers. Once it was finally finished, I sat back against a tree and waited.

There was an awful lot of waiting to be done.

Three hours later, his participants still hadnt come.

Hed buzzed in on the walkie talkie a few times, asking if theyd shown up. I continually answered in the negative, wondering how long hed be willing to keep up this charade. He must be getting worried, I thought, staring at my watch. It was already 10 pm and not a soul to be seen.

Hey, Mike? Something must have happened, I dont think theyre coming. Can you get me out of here? Bens voice crackled and faded in and out of the static fuzz. I took another swig of my beer and heaved a sigh.

Of course they werent coming. They were frantically searching for the last clue. My hand crept into my pocket as I felt it folded there, the creases poking at the soft flesh of my palm.

Mike? Are you there? Did you go out of range?

I turned the walkie talkie off. I didnt need it anymore, anyway. Carefully, I picked up a handful of disturbed earth from the top of the makeshift grave. I poured it down the pipe and listened.

I heard the muffled exclamation, the series of expletives. I thought I could hear a thumping sound he must be hitting the top of the coffin. I smiled a little to myself as I poured some more dirt in through the pipe.

Bens struggles got louder and I felt a certain heat rising up in me. Oh, I knew it could be good, but I didnt know it could be good. This was incredible. This was perfect. This was .

Eventually, I grew bored of shoving the earth down into the coffin. I could hear Bens screaming and sobbing reverberating up the pipe. I yanked a handkerchief out of my back pocket and stuffed it inside. I made sure to plug it up good and tight.

It would only be a matter of time, now. Assuming he could regulate his breathing, he could possibly have a few hours. But I knew he was panicking. And that would simply serve to shorten his time.

The pounding grew weaker as I finished my beer. Once I was certain there was no saving him, I went to finish my work.

Ben was right everything really did go off without a hitch. I dont know what I was so worried about.

Id gone to find his lost sheep, the wayward participants who were scrambling in frustration for the last clue. I scolded them for making us wait so long, acted the part of the reluctant friend indulging his lunatic companion. I took them out to the grave. It was now past midnight.

They sat hushed as I gave the stupid speech that Ben had prepared for me. Everything seemed normal Id made sure to stow the rag before anyone could see it.

Friends, foes, and everyone in between. Tonight we gather to resurrect the ancient horror that has plagued mankind for centuries. Its tale, once a gruesome epic of blood and seduction, has become nothing more than commercialized fodder as society has aged. Now, the time has come for the phoenix to burn and rise again. So, too, shall the blood-soaked visage of the vampire! My voice resonated throughout the woods, and the morons in attendance clapped as they all reached for their shovels.

We dug him up in about half an hour. It was much faster work with his host of suckers. It was good that we reached the coffin quickly, because I could barely contain my excitement.

Two of the men opened the coffin and screamed. The women leaned in over the grave to peek as well, full of expectancy. There was something dreadful about the scene, to be sure.

Bens face had gone gray, sprayed over with a few specs of dirt. His hands were bloody, his fingernails pried off. Deep scratches decorated the top of the lid. The men who had opened his tomb dragged him out in a panic, unsure if this was part of the performance or not. A few moments of silent listening at his chest produced no heartbeat. The proclamation was definitive: he was dead.

They screamed. They called the police. They alternatively looked at his body and shielded themselves from its horror, enraptured yet struggling.

They ignored me.

But that was fine. It was fine because they were admiring my work, the work of the artist. Finally, I had been given this opportunity to prove my worth. Finally, I had found my sacrificial lamb. And it had been a rousing success. The heat raging in my body affirmed that much. I didnt even care if I was caught, so long as I could have this moment to hold for the rest of my life.

Ben was right. I should have known a man of principle never lies. And I owe him a debt of gratitude, for realizing the artist within me.

Art must be a little dangerous for it to be real.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/every-halloween-i-have-a-story-i-like-to-tell/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/172357360662