#like seriously there are times she nags me every 2 to 5 minutes

[jellycreamjammedart]

man i probably could make a stable living wage if i got paid everytime my mom bugs and calls me over to help her with her freaking phone and especially her freaking facebook, like an it guy

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of drugs, mentions of court, mentions of shootings

Chris’s POV

It was early Saturday morning when Nate showed up at my place in Somerville, looking like he hadn’t slept a minute. He’d just been let go from the police station after being kept overnight. I could tell from the way his eyes darted around that he was still a little on edge. It wasn’t the first time Nate had found himself in trouble, but this was different. Getting arrested for carrying too much weed while being tied up with our crew was a whole new level of risky.

Nate and I were both part of the Crimson Cartel, a gang deeply embedded in Boston’s streets. His family had been involved for as long as I could remember, and his cousin Danny was one of the big players. I got pulled into it all because of Nate - our friendship was solid, and when he joined, it wasn’t long before I did too. 

“Got a joint, bro?”  Nate asked, his eyes already scanning the kitchen for one.

I laughed. “Seriously? You just got back from being arrested for possession, and you want to smoke up?”

“Hell yeah. What else am I gonna do?” He shrugged like it was no big deal.

I liked the occasional joint. It helped take the edge off, helped me relax when things got too hectic. But that was it - just weed, nothing harder. I knew where to draw the line. Sure, I sold drugs, but I didn’t get involved with any of the other shit. That was strictly for the older guys in the Crimson Cartel. Those were the ones who handled the hits, the intimidation, the gruesome work. They had been in the game for years, hardened by it. Nate and I, we were different.

We were the youngest in the gang - Me being 21, and Nate just 20, everyone else was 30+. We’d been involved since we were 16 & 17. Our job was simple: handle the drug runs, get the product from one place to another. No blood on our hands, no breaking bones or taking lives. It was a clean line, or at least that’s what I told myself. I wasn’t in this for the violence. Hell, I wasn’t even in this by choice, one bad decision snowballed, and now this was my life. My family freaked the fuck out when they found out. Kicked me out, didn’t want anything to do with me. That’s how I ended up living with my uncle Jerry, just trying to get by. I guess it helped having an uncle who liked to smoke too.

Just sell it – that’s what I kept reminding myself. I was good at it. I didn’t have to hurt anyone. I didn’t have to be like the older guys who let the gang swallow them whole. I wasn’t a thug, and I wasn’t going to become one. That’s how I stayed sane in all this.

The older guys in the cartel, though – they didn’t think like that. For them, it wasn’t just about the money. It was about power, about making a name for themselves on the streets of Boston. Nate and I didn’t fit into that. We were runners, sure, but we kept ourselves out of the violent shit. Nate had a reckless streak growing up, especially when he was with his cousin Danny, but even he didn’t want to cross that line.

Still, the older we got, the harder it became to stay in our lane. The more we were around, the more they expected from us. Every time I handed off a package, there was always this nagging feeling that eventually, they’d want more. Nate and I had managed to avoid that side of the cartel for now, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. There’s only so long you can run drugs before they start pulling you deeper in.

The truth was, this life had a way of blurring those lines. Sure, I wasn’t involved in any hits, but I was part of the same machine that funded them. Every deal I made, every bag I handed off, it all contributed to something bigger, something more dangerous. As much as I tried to keep myself at arm’s length from the bloodshed, I was still part of the problem. And deep down, I knew it. But I had to keep telling myself that it was different. That I was different. As long as I stayed on the edges of it, as long as I kept my head down and just did the runs, I wouldn’t have to cross that line. I wouldn’t have to become like Vince or Danny or any of the others who’d let the cartel define them.

We headed out the side gate of my bungalow and settled into the backyard. It was chilly, but the kind of brisk Boston morning you get used to. I pulled out a joint, lit it up, and handed it over as Nate slouched back into one of the old chairs. As he took a deep drag, I asked, “So, what the hell happened?”

He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling up into the air. “Man, it was a mess. I was out helping Danny and Sully with a run. You know, just moving some weight, nothing crazy. But then Danny got a call, said one of the big guys from H Block was back in town, and he couldn’t let that slide.”

I nodded, knowing all too well how territorial things had gotten lately between us and H Block.

“So, next thing I know, we’re driving down Charles Street, street was silent as fuck not a sinner on the place. I’d just smoked a joint and was high as hell when Danny starts shooting. I panicked when the shots went off and I hopped out the car. The car took off, and I was stuck there like a damn fool.”

I couldn’t help but shake my head. “You didn’t try to get back in?”

“Nah, man. They were gone, and I freaked out. I didn’t want to stick around a crime scene, so I ran. Ended up at the Public Garden trying to blend in, but it’s October so I’m sat there freezing my ass off. Eventually, I had to leave, but cops were swarming everywhere and I’m still high as fuck so of course, I run into them.”

I laughed a little at the irony, but it quickly faded when he said, “They nailed me for carrying more than the legal amount of weed and suspicion of selling. And there’s already whispers about me being involved in the shooting. If that gets out, I’m screwed.”

“Jesus, Nate. So, what happens now?” I asked, taking the joint back from him.

“I’ve got until Monday to figure things out. That’s when my court appearance is.” Nate said, leaning back in his chair as though he wasn’t too worried.

I took a deep breath. “So, less than 48 hours?”

He nodded, eyes half lidded as the weed hit him. “Yeah, but my record’s clean. It’s the first time I’ve ever been caught with anything, so I should get off light. Worst case? A fine and some community service. I doubt they’ll throw me in jail.”

I passed the joint back to him. “And they don’t have anything solid linking you to the hit?”

“Not yet, I mean from what I remember no one else was around.” he said, exhaling smoke. “But you know how it is. If they start digging, anything could come up.”

I sat there, processing everything. Nate was right, he might be fine, but there was always the chance the cops would sniff out something worse. “You want me to do anything?”

“Yeah, actually” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I’m supposed to do a run in Roxbury tomorrow, but with the heat on me, I need to lay low. Can you cover it?”

I thought about it for a second. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “Yeah, I’ll take care of it.”

Nate nodded, looking relieved. He gave me the address, and I pulled out my phone to type it into my notes app. As I did, I noticed a drop down notification that made me freeze.

“@y/ny/l/n2 liked your photo.”

I blinked, staring at the screen. Y/n Y/l/n? It had been years since I’d heard that name. Curious, I clicked the notification, but by the time the app loaded, it was gone. There was no mention of her like, no new activity on the post. Weird.

Nate noticed I was distracted. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, just.. an old name popped up,” I said, pocketing my phone.

“Old girl?” he teased, a grin forming on his face.

“Something like that” I muttered, still thinking about Y/n. I hadn’t seen or talked to her in years, but I couldn’t deny that her name stirred something in me. We had a brief thing back in 2018, nothing too serious, but I always had a soft spot for her.

Nate eventually decided to head home, needing some rest after his long night in the station. I waved him off, but my thoughts kept drifting back to Y/n. What was she up to these days? Was she still in Boston? Why did she like my post after all this time? What made her look at my Instagram?

That night, I went over everything for the run tomorrow, making sure I had everything in place. But no matter how much I tried to focus, I couldn’t stop thinking about Y/n.

She was one of those girls who left a mark on you, no matter how brief things had been. And even though it had been years, I couldn’t help but wonder what seeing her again might be like.

Monday came faster than I expected, and I found myself standing outside the Boston Municipal Court with Nate. He looked calm, or at least as calm as he could be given the situation. But I knew better. Nate always tried to play it cool, even when he was freaking out on the inside.

We hadn’t talked much since Saturday, and I could tell the nerves were starting to hit him now. His foot tapped restlessly on the courthouse steps as we waited for his case to be called. The morning air was crisp, the fall chill creeping in, and it wasn’t helping either of us settle.

“You’ll be fine” I muttered, trying to reassure him.

He gave me a tight smile. “Yeah, let’s hope so. Just gotta get through this.”

When they finally called Nate’s name, we both stood, making our way inside. The courtroom was filled with the usual mix of people – lawyers, family members, defendants. Everyone there for one reason or another, all waiting for their fate to be decided. As much as Nate tried to shrug it off, this was serious. The rumors about the hit on Charles Street were swirling, and we both knew if they got any real evidence, he was screwed.

Nate’s lawyer made a decent argument – first-time offense, clean record, no solid evidence tying him to anything worse than possession. They dragged it out longer than I thought they would, but in the end, the judge gave his ruling.

“A charitable donation of $2,000 and 50 hours of community service” the judge announced, his voice echoing through the courtroom. “Additionally, Mr. Doe, you are expected to refrain from any drug-related activities for the next 12 months. Any violation of this order will result in harsher consequences.”

The words were like a weight being lifted off Nate’s shoulders. He was let off easy. I knew he’d be able to pay the fine without blinking, and the community service? It was nothing. But the whole “refrain from drug-related activities” part? That was funny. We both knew that wasn’t happening. Nate just had to make sure he didn’t get caught.

As soon as the court was adjourned, I felt the tension drain out of me. Nate’s future was safe, for now. I clapped him on the back as we left the courtroom. “See? Not so bad.”

Nate grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, man, I guess I got lucky.”

But even though things had turned out okay, I needed to get out of there. The courtroom felt too small, too confined. I needed air, space to think, and to breathe. I left as fast as I could, practically jogging out of the courthouse doors and into the cool October breeze. It hit me like a wave, and I inhaled deeply, trying to clear my head.

That’s when I saw her.

The most strikingly beautiful girl I’d seen in years. A face that was hard to forget. Something in my chest tightened as I watched her walk across the courtyard, almost in slow motion. She was looking down at her phone, completely unaware of my presence.

And then it hit me. I knew that girl.

Wait–Y/n?

The same Y/n I hadn’t seen since 2018. The same Y/n who had been on my mind all weekend after that weird Instagram notification.

My feet were frozen in place, and for a second, I felt like time had stopped. There she was, standing just a few feet away, as if fate had decided to throw us back together after all these years.

Y/n.

What the hell were the odds?

I didn’t know if I should walk up to her or just keep my distance, but before I could make a decision, she looked up from her phone and our eyes locked. My heart skipped a beat.

There was no avoiding it now.

Y/n’s Pov

"Y/n?" His voice was deeper than I remembered, smooth yet surprised.

I blinked, still in awe of how good looking he still was. He had that same disheveled charm, the messy brown hair, sharp jawline, and those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through me. Only now, he was taller, broader. He had grown into himself, and it was impossible to ignore.

"Chris" I breathed, trying to act casual but failing miserably. "Wow, it’s been a while."

"It really has" he said with that signature smirk of his. "It’s nice to see you. You look great."

I could feel my cheeks heating up. "Thanks. You too."

We stood there for a moment, just taking each other in. It was surreal, seeing him after all these years. I didn’t even know what to say or where to start.

"So.. what are you doing here?" I asked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nate got into a bit of trouble, as you probably saw in there. I’m just here to support him."

"Right" I nodded, still trying to wrap my head around everything. Chris and Nate, in court. A few years ago, I never would’ve pictured it, well maybe Nate but not so much Chris.

"How’s life treating you?" he said, eyes scanning me in that way that made my heart flutter. 

"It’s good, actually. Just finishing up a big project for college. Still getting used to all the work, but I like it."

He nodded, his gaze softening. "I’m glad to hear it. You always had your head on straight."

Before I could respond, Nate appeared, walking up to us with his usual nonchalance. He looked at Chris first, then at me, a flicker of recognition passing across his face.

"I’ll wait for you in the car, man" Nate said, slapping Chris on the back before giving me a nod. "Nice seeing you."

I returned the gesture, watching as Nate sauntered off. It was so strange, seeing both of them like this. Nate barely glanced back, disappearing down the steps toward the parking lot. My eyes flicked back to Chris, who was still watching me with that familiar intensity.

"We should hang out sometime" he said, almost casually, but there was something more to it.

My stomach did a flip. "Yeah, that would be nice."

Chris smiled, a genuine one that sent my pulse racing again. "You’re still living in Beacon Hill, right?"

I shook my head. "No, we moved once I started college. My parents wanted a bigger house in a quieter area, so we’re out in Brookline now."

He nodded, while giving me a soft smirk. "That’s cool. I’ve still got you on Instagram. I’ll shoot you a message, and we can figure something out."

The casual mention of Instagram made my face burn. He definitely saw the notification. I could feel the heat rising up my neck. But if he knew, he didn’t say anything. He just gave me that same charming smile, one that felt all too familiar.

"Yeah, sounds good" I mumbled, trying to keep my cool.

With one last glance, he gave me a quick nod before turning to leave. I watched as he walked away, feeling the blood rush to my face. The way he moved, the effortless confidence — it all hit me at once.

Chris was back in my life, just like that. And somehow, it felt like things were about to get a lot more complicated.

a/n: first chris povvvv

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @slutniolo @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69

[southtopaz]

PSYCHO KILLER - SCREAM

Summary: in which Iris Morris has to navigate her personal relationships while surviving a psycho.

Warnings: Fem!reader, angst, violence, swearing, mention of death, Tara Carpenter x Fem reader, multiple parts, slowburn.

Word count: +5k

A/n: this part will follow the events of Scream 6 but it will take place two years later from Scream 5. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammatical mistake.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13

Iris stared at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the collar of her makeshift Men in Black costume. The black suit felt too tight, and the sunglasses slipped down her nose. She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the ridiculousness of it all. Once upon a time, the idea of going to a party with her friends would have excited her, but now the thought only made her feel uneasy.

She had Tara to thank for her current predicament. For the past two weeks, Tara had relentlessly bugged her about attending the frat party, her enthusiasm almost palpable through every text and conversation. And here Iris was, caught in a swirl of frustration and reluctantance, walking down the street with Tara, who looked radiant in her pirate costume, complete with a white shirt that showed her shoulders, a delicate gold neckclace, and a stylish headscarf. Honestly, she looked way too hot and Iris was having a hard time at pretending like she didn't notice it. She hated to admit it, but for the last thirty minutes, she'd been avoiding looking directly at Tara, fearful that if she did, she wouldn't be able to stop.

"I can't believe you convinced me to come to this stupid party," Iris muttered, trying to suppress a grin at Tara's playful smile.

"I've been told I'm really good at convincing," Tara replied, her voice dripping with mock seriousness.

"I don't think you're that good," Iris shot back, attempting to maintain her irritated facade.

Tara stopped in her tracks, causing Iris to halt beside her. The shorter girl leaned in, a special glint in her eyes. "Don't make me bring the big guys," she teased, her tone low and mischievous, clearly enjoying the moment.

Iris felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward, but she quickly shook her head. "Just don't do that thing," she gestured to Tara's face, her tone a mix of annoyance and fondness. "You know, that thing you do with your eyes."

Tara paused, her expression shifting to mock confusion as she lowered her eyelids and pouted, exaggerating the look to the point of absurdity. "What thing?" she asked, batting her lashes in a way that was almost comical.

"Ugh, I hate you," Iris groaned, unable to suppress her laughter any longer.

"Love you too!" Tara chirped, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

The distant sounds of music pulsated through the trees ahead, a vibrant invitation beckoning them closer. Yet, as they moved forward to the frat house, Iris still felt a nagging uncertainty. She glanced at the dark shadows that lined the path, the branches casting eerie shapes on the ground. Each small rustle made her heart race, and she found herself instinctively leaning closer to Tara, who kept her grounded with an easy confidence.

"Oh, hey, Tara!" called a guy in a Blackmore College jacket. He had black long hair, and a neatly groomed mustache.

"Jason," Tara greeted, her voice brightening. "Are you and Greg gonna come to the okb party?"

"Well, if he finishes his Spanish project in time, yes, we will," Jason said, raising his eyebrows with a hint of optimism. Then he turned his attention to Iris. "Hi, I'm Jason, you must be..."

"I'm Iris" her tone slightly awkward. "Nice to meet you"

Jason gave her a tight lipped smile before looking back at Tara once again, his smile widening. "Is your sister coming?"

"No way! Sam wouldn't be caught dead at a frat party," Tara chuckled, the very idea making her giggle.

Jason shrugged innocently,"There's a first time for everything," he replied, his voice laced with an overconfident nonchalance. Iris shot Jason a wary glance, picking up on a sense of arrogance that made her gut twist.

"Not tonight, though," Tara said firmly, beginning to pull Iris away from the conversation, eager to get to the party.

"Can't convince her?" Jason called after them, his voice teasing.

"No. That's not my problem, that's yours!" Tara shouted back over her shoulder, laughter mingling with the distant music.

"Save me a drink!" Jason's voice faded as they walked further down the sidewalk.

Once they were a safe distance away from the party, Iris turned to Tara, her brow furrowed with curiosity. "So, does Jason know Sam?"

Tara shrugged, her eyes darting back to the thrumming crowd they had just escaped. "Not really."

Iris tilted her head, an eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Don't you think it was a little weird that he was so interested in getting your sister to come to this party?"

"Jesus, Iris," Tara said, exasperated. "Not everyone is out there to get us."

"I know that but he was really strange,".

"It's Jason, for crying out loud! He's just a guy from my film studies class. Of course he's weird!" Tara replied, a playful smirk creeping across her face. "Maybe he has a crush on Sam."

"Yeah, or maybe he's plotting a murder. You know, a typical Friday night," Iris quipped, her tone half-serious, half-teasing.

"Okay, stop." Tara abruptly came to a halt, gripping both of Iris's shoulders with a firm yet gentle hold. "Iris, I know that you and Sam are the presidents of the Paranoid Fan Club, but I brought you here today so you could chill out. You two have been on edge for the past two years. It's time to let it go."

"Okay, rude. I'm not paranoid!" Iris shot back, feigning indignation.

"Yes, you are!" Tara countered, rolling her eyes. "I get it, but you have to start living, too."

"I know," Iris huffed, crossing her arms defiantly. "I'm living just fine, thank you very much."

"Are you, though?" Tara asked softly, her voice dropping to a more serious note. "Can you try to see it from my perspective?"

In a playful act of defiance, Iris crouched down, mimicking Tara's height. "Yeah, I can try," she said, struggling to keep a straight face.

"You are so not funny, you fucker. We were having a moment!" Tara protested, her frustration only half-hearted.

"I can't hear you from way up here," Iris replied, a teasing lilt to her voice.

"I'm going to punch you in the face," Tara said, though a smile threatened to break through her stern demeanor.

"You'll have to tiptoe to get there. It's cute, really," Iris laughed, her spirit lifting.

"Well, I don't have to tiptoe to punch you in the gut" Tara shot back as she smiled sarcastically. "Keep it up and you might find out"

"Love it when you talk dirty to me" Iris grinned, wrapping an arm around Tara's shoulders as they resumed their walk toward the house. The cool evening air was refreshing, and for a moment, the weight of their worries seemed to lighten. If only she had noticed the way Tara's cheeks flushed with warmth at the closeness.

The music thumped through the speakers, reverberating through the crowded frat house, where colorful lights flickered and danced along the walls. A bunch of faces, flushed with excitement and enthusiasm, swayed to the rhythm, their laughter punctuating the air. The scent of spilled drinks and food mingled with the sweet, fruity aroma of mixed cocktails, creating an atmosphere that was both chaotic and exhilarating.

Iris stood near the kitchen counter, where a makeshift bar had been set up. The countertops were cluttered with half-empty bottles, mixers, and stacks of red cups. She took in the scene, people dancing with their costumes on, some attempting to impress one another with their moves, while others lounged on the couches, engrossed in animated conversations. She had to admit, she was having more fun than she originally thought she would.

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how fucked you guys want to get tonight?" Mindy asked  as she lined up four shots on the kitchen counter.

"Hopefully a ten!" Anika exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she grinned widely at the group. With that, they raised their glasses in unison and downed their shots, the liquid burning their throats as they swallowed.

Iris gagged dramatically, her face contorting in an exaggerated grimace. "God, that was awful! I'm going to go make a drink. Does anybody want one?" she declared, wiping her mouth and shaking her head in disgust at the harshness of the shot.

"I'll take one!" Tara called out, a grateful smile on her face as she leaned closer to Iris.  As Iris turned to leave, Mindy shouted after her, "When did you become such a pussy? That wasn't even that strong!"

Iris shot her a middle finger over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips despite the faux indignation. "Maybe my taste buds just have standards bitch" she called back, making Mindy snicker as she tried to stifle her laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, you're just weak". After Iris was out of sight, Mindy leaned in conspiratorially. "So, Tara, any hopes for tonight?" she asked, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively while wrapping an arm around Anika.

"Just have fun, I guess," Tara replied, a hint of confusion crossing her face as she tried to understand the underlying implication.

"Not planning to make a move on Iris?" Anika teased, her eyes sparkling with hope.

Tara laughed nervously, the sound a mix of embarrassment and surprise. "Why would I... I don't... I..." she stuttered, her friends bursting into laughter at her flustered state.

"Look, all I'm saying is tonight would be a great night to do it. Ask her to dance!" Mindy encouraged, her voice playful yet earnest.

"Iris hates dancing; she's going to say no," Tara protested, shaking her head as she glanced at the girl, who was now distracted by the antics of a group trying to recreate a viral TikTok dance.

"She would say no to everyone but you," Mindy replied. "She has a soft spot for you."

"No, she doesn't,"

"Yes, she does!" Anika and Mindy chimed in unison, laughter bubbling between them.

"Just test it out," Anika said, her eyes darting toward Iris, who had returned with drinks. "She's coming!"

Iris handed a brightly colored drink to Tara. "Here you go!" she said, a smile breaking across her face.

"Gotta say, Iris," Anika whistled teasingly, "That suit definitely looks good on you. Like, if I didn't have a girlfriend, I'd be jumping you right now."

Iris erupted into laughter, her face lighting up as she turned to Mindy, whose expression was one of mock horror.

"Okay, I think I just threw up!" Mindy faked gag. "You're my girlfriend; you're supposed to say she's ugly!"

"But I would be lying!" Anika countered, unable to hold back her giggles.

"God, I know. Unfortunately, you look good Iris," Mindy added dramatically, tossing her hands up in defeat. "Get out of my sight!" Iris laughed, waving them off playfully.

"What about you, Tara? Do you think Iris look good?" Anika asked intentionally, a spark in her eyes.

"Uh, yeah, definitely," Tara stammered, her eyes widening as the focus shifted to her.

"Now you're just being nice," Iris teased, nudging Tara playfully.

After a bit more lighthearted banter, Mindy and Anika made their excuses to leave, but not before Mindy shot Tara a knowing wink, leaving Tara feeling nothing but anxiety. Once they were alone, Tara turned to Iris, her heart racing. "So, umm, wanna dance?"

"Dance?" Iris snorted, her disbelief evident. "I'm terrible at it. I hate it."

"C'mon, it would be fun!" Tara urged, extending her hand with a hopeful smile.

Iris hesitated, searching Tara's eyes for a moment. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she relented. "Fine." Tara's heart soared at Iris's unexpected agreement, though she hid her surprise well. Maybe Mindy was right after all.

They stepped onto the dance floor, and Tara instinctively reached for Iris's hand.

They started to sway to the music, the soft melodies wrapping around them like a gentle breeze. Iris watched Tara move with an effortless grace, her body swaying fluidly, each motion as natural as breathing. Tara's laughter blended with the music, her eyes sparkling with joy, and Iris felt a rush of admiration with a hint of longing.

Iris tried to mimic Tara's movements, but her attempts felt clumsy and awkward. She felt stupid, her limbs stiff and uncoordinated, each sway a far cry from Tara's elegance. Dancing had never been her strong suit, and tonight was no different.

In a playful moment, Tara twirled Iris around, and they both burst into laughter when Iris stumbled slightly, inadvertently stepping on Tara's foot. The laughter felt infectious, washing away Iris's insecurities, if only for a moment. "I told you I'm terrible at this!" Iris exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"I don't care," Tara replied, her voice light and warm. "I just want to dance with you." With that, Iris spun Tara around in return, her heart lifting at the sight of Tara's radiant smile. It was a small victory, yet it filled her with a sense of confidence she hadn't expected.

As they resumed their swaying, Iris couldn't shake the tension in her body. Each attempt to move in sync felt like a losing battle; her nerves made her movements feel rigid and forced. She found herself wiggling awkwardly to the beat, struggling to find a rhythm that felt natural.

"It'd help if you'd loosen up, ya know?" Tara chimed in, her giggle light and encouraging, cutting through the din of the party.

"How?" Iris shot back, a hint of desperation in her voice as she glanced at Tara, hoping for guidance.

"Simple! Just grab my waist," Tara suggested, stepping closer and reaching for Iris's hands. She guided them slowly to her waist, their bodies inches apart, the warmth radiating between them. "Like that," she whispered, her breath brushing against Iris's ear, sending shivers down her spine.

Iris felt her heart race, the world around them fading into a blur as she focused on the closeness, the sensation of Tara's body against hers. There was an intoxicating thrill in that moment, a rush of something deeper than just dancing. Tara's arms slipped around Iris's neck, pulling them even closer, and Iris found herself entranced, her body instinctively moving to follow Tara's lead.

As they swayed together, time seemed to stretch and bend, the music becoming a soundtrack to their connection. Iris couldn't tear her gaze away from Tara's face; the way her eyes lit up with laughter, the curve of her smile, the freckles in her cheeks, it all made Iris feel dizzy with awe. With each subtle movement, the tension began to dissolve, and for the first time, Iris felt the music seep into her bones.

"See? You're doing amazing now," Tara said, her voice warm and encouraging.

"I think it's the teacher, really," Iris teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Tara's laughter was like a melody of its own, filling the air around them. Iris felt emboldened, her confidence building as she matched Tara's sway, letting herself get lost in the rhythm.

Tara started playing with Iris's tie, twirling her finger around it absently. She looked up to find Iris staring intently at every part of her face, an expression full of curiosity with something deeper. Feeling a surge of boldness, Tara decided to bridge the gap between them. With a playful tug, she pulled on Iris's tie, drawing their faces closer together.

"If you keep pulling my tie like that, you're going to mess it up," Iris warned, her voice teasing but laced with an unmistakable hint of nervousness.

"Do you want me to stop?" Tara asked, her heart racing. With another gentle tug, she closed the distance further until their noses were almost touching, the air between them charged with anticipation.

"Not really," Iris admitted, her eyes sparkling with desire. In a swift motion, she grabbed Tara's hips, pulling her even closer until their bodies pressed together. The warmth radiating between them made Tara's breath hitch, and she brought her hand to tangle them into Iris's hair.

"You know? Anika was right," Tara said, her voice low, but the words felt heavy in the charged atmosphere.

"About?" Iris's voice barely rose above a whisper as their breaths mingled in the warm air, creating an intimate bubble around them.

"You look really good today." Tara's eyes sparkled with genuine admiration, tracing the contours of Iris's face, from the gentle curve of her cheek to the way her hair framed her features.

"Just good?" Iris raised an eyebrow, a teasing lilt in her tone that sent a thrill through Tara.

"You look hot." The words hung in the air, and Iris's smirk widened, a special glint in her eyes. Tara couldn't help but glance down at Iris's lips for a moment, the urge to close the gap between them almost overwhelming.

"I just..." Tara began, her heart pounding as she searched for the right words, but her thoughts scattered when another voice cut through the moment.

"Iris, no way!" A ginger-haired boy in his twenties called out, his presence sudden and bright. Iris snapped out of her trance, her smile transforming instantly upon recognizing him.

"Damon! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed, her excitement evident as she turned to face him.

"I would never miss a party." He flashed a charming grin before his gaze shifted to Tara, an apologetic expression crossing his features. "Was I interrupting?"

"No, no, don't worry," Iris insisted quickly, a deep blush covering her face. "Mmm, this is my friend Tara."

"Hi, I'm Damon," he said, offering a warm smile that made Tara feel both welcomed and slightly annoyed. "You mind if I steal her for a second?"

Tara tried to hide her disappointment, her throat tight. "Not at all," she managed, though the words felt hollow.

Iris smiled at her, genuine and bright. "I'll see you in a bit, okay? Thanks for the dancing," she said, her eyes lingering on Tara's for a heartbeat longer.

"Yeah, no worries," Tara replied, forcing a tight-lipped smile, her heart sinking a little.

As they turned away, she heard Damon's voice carrying over the music. "I have so many people I want you to meet." They disappeared into the room, laughter and chatter swallowing them up.

Tara stood there, feeling a tightening in her chest that made her uncomfortable. She didn't know who this Damon was, but the ease between him and Iris showed that they were close, she just didn't know how much.

She had the best medicine for heartache, alcohol.

Iris was engaged in an animated conversation with Damon and three of his friends, her laughter ringing out as she gestured enthusiastically, when Anika suddenly burst into the scene, her face showing distress.

"Iris, we need your help like right now!" Anika exclaimed, grabbing Iris's hand and tugging her away before she had a chance to comprehend the situation.

"What's going on?" Iris asked, confusion flickering across her features as she tried to keep pace with Anika's rapid strides.

"It's Tara," Anika replied breathlessly, her voice laced with concern.

They quickened their steps, weaving through the crowd of students until they reached the dimly lit hall. Just as they arrived, Iris's heart sank as she caught sight of Tara ascending the staircase, her laughter echoing softly. Beside her was a tall guy with tousled brown hair, his confident posture and relaxed demeanor suggesting he was much older than Tara, a fact that sent a wave of unease through Iris.

"Hey, Tara, come here!" Iris called out, her voice firm but laced with tension. She clenched her fists, a protective instinct surging within her.

"Sorry, we didn't catch that," the older guy replied, flashing a condescending smile that only deepened Iris's frustration.

"I think you did." Iris spoke as she felt herself growing angrier every second.

"No, Iris. It's fine," Tara said, her voice slightly slurred as she leaned heavily against the railing for support, struggling to maintain her balance. "I'm just gonna get a drink and then I'll be right back." She took a wobbly step down the stairs. "You should go back to what you were doing," she added, attempting to sound casual.

"See, Iris? She wants to," the older guy said mockingly, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he flashed a triumphant grin. He reached out and grabbed Tara by the arm, making her stumble, her footing faltering as she tried to regain her balance. He kept on dragging her back up the stairs aggressively and Iris's anger finally erupted.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Iris yelled as she punched the guy straight in the face, he stumbled backward and lost his footing, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud.

"You bitch" he shouted, holding into his bloody nose as he stood up, but before he could fully regain his composure, Iris was already on him. She lunged forward, her hands gripping the fabric of his white shirt, the material cool and smooth beneath her fingers. Her heart raced, fueled by an urgent need to protect Tara, whose faint shouts urging her to stop barely registered in her mind.

"Please, Iris, don't!" Tara's voice trembled, but it felt distant, almost muffled by the pounding in Iris's ears. She could see Tara's worried expression over her shoulder, but all her focus was on the guy before her.

"Do you think you can just push her around like that?" Iris gritted through her teeth, her voice low and intense.  "You enjoy taking drunk girls to your room, you fucking perv?"

"You're ruining the fun, you could've joined us if you weren't crazy".

"Touch her again, and I fucking kill you" he growled at Iris's threat, punching her with a force that sent her stumbling back. The sudden impact disoriented her for a moment, and she could feel the crowd around them erupt into a frenzy of shouts and gasps. She was pretty sure her lip was busted, but instead of showing any pain, a defiant smile spread across Iris's face, a bold expression that seemed to catch him off guard.

With adrenaline pumping through her veins, Iris lunged forward, her body propelled by anger.She closed the distance between them in an instant, driving him backward into the wall with a forceful thud. He gasped as his back hit the hard surface, his eyes wide with surprise and fury, but Iris was undeterred.

As she held him against the wall, she caught sight of the fear creeping into his eyes, and a small part of her reveled in it. The expression on his face shifted from confusion to pain as she drew her fist back and unleashed it with all her strength, landing a solid punch against his nose. The blow echoed in the air, a sharp crack that punctuated the tension surrounding them.

"You're insane" he shot back, incredulity lacing his voice, which faltered as Iris tightened her grip.

Iris leaned in, her breath barely above a whisper, low and deliberate, ensuring he could hear every word. "You have no idea, lay one hand on her and you'll find out"

Just in time, Chad strode into the room. The moment he spotted the boy making another move on Iris, a protective instinct surged within him. Without hesitation, he positioned himself directly in front of her, his posture radiating defiance.

Chad's jaw clenched as he locked eyes with the boy, who glared back defiantly. In an instant, the confrontation escalated; both men began shoving each other. Tara went to Iris to drag her away from the scene, she was still in shock from what the other girl just did.

Sam burst into the room, her eyes quickly scanned the scene, as she was assessing the turmoil unfolding before her. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm just gonna tase you in the balls real quick." He fell to the ground in pain. "Don't ever lay hands on my sister"

"You fucking bitch! Fuck you". All eyes were on her now.

"Sam! Are you fucking kidding me? You're stalking us now." Tara angrily said as she ran outside.

"Holy shit, it's that psycho girl". a guy yelled, as everyone started taking pictures off Sam, Iris quickly grabbed Sam's hand and both of them stormed out of the house.

They were chasing after Tara, who seemed to be trying to get away from Sam as fast as she could.

"Tara." Sam called after her, "Will you stop?"

"I cannot believe you did that!" Tara hissed. "You embarrassed me!" Then she pointed at Iris. "Don't even get me started on you, what the fuck is wrong with you? You punched him and now you're bleeding".

"I don't care, he deserved it"

"That guy was a dick," Sam defended Iris and herself immediately. "I'm glad Iris was there to stop him, he was going to take advantage of you"

Tara threw her arms up in exasperation, her frustration palpable as it hung in the air like a thick fog.

"So?" she challenged, her tone sharp enough to cut through the tension surrounding them.

"So?" Iris echoed, disbelief etched across her features. "You're drunk, Tara, you can't give consent" Iris felt her jaw tense, the muscles tightening as she fought to suppress the urge to lash out. The heat of the moment clawed at her restraint.

"If I want to hook up with an asshole, that's my decision!" Tara spat, her voice rising with indignation. She glared fiercely at the girls, a defiant fire blazing in her eyes. "That's my decision!"

"Okay," Sam replied, rolling her eyes with an exaggerated sigh.

"No problem," Iris interjected, her tone clipped. "Just do it when you're sober." The suggestion hung in the air, thick with irony.

"It's not about you!" Tara snapped, pivoting to face her sister. Her voice was edged with bitterness. "You're out of my life for five years, and now you can't leave me alone for five minutes!" The words came out like venom, each one a reminder of the distance that had long defined their relationship.

Iris's gaze flicked over her shoulder, noticing that the others Chad, Ethan, Mindy, and Anika had followed them outside, standing at a distance. They looked like deer caught in headlights, uncertain and awkward, the weight of the confrontation palpable.

"Because you're not dealing with what happened to us," Sam interjected bitterly. "Have you even gone to see the counselor yet?" There was a sharpness to her words, a frustration born from unaddressed pain.

"No, I'm not going to—" Tara started, but Sam cut her off.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm uninterested in living in the past like you are," Tara admitted, her voice trembling as if each syllable was a weight pulling her under.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam's brow furrowed, confusion and hurt mixing in her expression as she searched for understanding.

Tara hesitated, her eyes darting, as if she were struggling to articulate the storm brewing inside her. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable, as the tension between the sisters persisted.

"Guys, come on," Chad interjected, sensing that the escalating situation was about to reach a boiling point. He stepped forward, his expression earnest as he aimed to diffuse the situation. "Stop arguing." His voice cut through the heated exchange.

"It means I'm not going to let what happened to us for three days define the rest of my life!" Tara shot back, her eyes blazing with defiance. The youngest Carpenter's voice cracked with raw emotion as she continued, "Therapy might work for you and Iris, but I don't need to keep revisiting the past every day."  Now, Iris knew that it was true but she still couldn't help but feel a pang of hurt deep within her. It wasn't her fault she still had trouble adapting to her new reality full of mistrust and pain.

"So you're just going to pretend it never happened?" Sam asked, her tone laced with disbelief after a heavy silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Tara let out a weary sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the weight of the world rested upon them. "What are you doing here, Sam? In New York?" she asked, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "You're working two shitty jobs just to help pay for... whatever. But what's your plan? I know what I'm going to do, okay? I'm going to keep going to college, I'm going to get my degree, and I'm going to live my life. My life. Okay? You just followed me here and won't let me out of your sight." The words poured out with exasperation.

"I'm just trying to look out for you," Sam replied, her expression shifting to one of dejection.

"I know. I know you are," Tara responded, her voice softening as she met Sam's gaze. "But you can't do it for the rest of my life. You have to let me go."

"Hey!" a voice called out, slicing through the tension that filled the night air. Before anyone even got the chance to react, a cold drink was being thrown at Sam, soaking her shirt. She recoiled in shock, her eyes wide as the icy liquid dripped down her skin, sending a jolt of surprise coursing through her.

"Murderer!" The girl shouted, her voice dripping with venom, eyes blazing with accusation. The crowd around them paused, curiosity piqued by the sudden commotion. Iris felt a surge of anger rising within her; she instinctively stepped forward, fists clenching at her sides, ready to confront the girl. But Mindy was quicker, stepping in front of her with a firm hand on her chest.

"Calm down, no more fighting," Mindy urged, her tone laced with urgency. She could see the fire in Iris's eyes and knew that a confrontation would only escalate the situation further.

"What the fuck is wrong with you bitch?" Sam screeched, her voice a mixture of disbelief and fury. She struggled against the hold of her friends, the adrenaline pumping through her veins as she tried to lunge toward the girl, but they held her back firmly.

"You guys should stay away from her," the girl declared, her voice rising above the crowd. She pointed a finger accusatorily at Sam, her expression one of disdain. "She knows what she did."

"I didn't fucking do anything!" Sam shot back, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Step closer if you're so brave bitch!". Iris shouted, her protective instincts kicking in, her heart pounding. Instead of responding, the woman merely flipped Iris off, a smirk on her face as she turned on her heel and continued to walk away.

The air felt thick with unspoken emotions as the group stood in stunned silence, grappling with the unexpected aggression.

"Hey its okay, calm down". Mindy said as they all started to walk back.

Sam, still fuming, turned to Iris, the fury in her eyes mingling with despair. "I'm so sick of this shit"

"I know Sam, I know".

[songmingisthighs]

[21.57] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ nothing's as concerning as wooyoung's 180° change, it's all or nothing for him. And you ? You just became his everything.

⇁ tw : violence, mafia life

⇁ part. 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

Five days went by and you still haven't regained consciousness and Wooyoung had not left your side for even one second.

Neglecting not only his duties but also his own well-being. He wouldn't leave you for a single second, afraid that if he does, someone might come in and finished you off. So he had San be on standby in the guest room, taking his place for when he needs to shower or go for a bathroom break. Said man even attempted to spoon-feed Wooyoung when he found out that his friend had denied the food his house staff brought to him, to which Wooyoung finally gave in and feed himself after San tied him up in his chair and threaten to feed him mother bird style.

When Yeosang came back in the day after you were first found, Wooyoung almost stab one of the nurses when he tried to take you to get checked.

"Seriously? I brought my machines and staff here and literally, within the first 2 minutes here, there are no signs of gratitude and you almost injured one of my staffs? Are you freaking high again?" Yeosang nagged after pulling the petrified nurse to the side.

Honestly, Wooyoung felt bad for scaring the man, but he had to hold onto you no matter what. You have to be within his peripheral vision because the last time he (stupidly) let (drove; shove) you out of his sight (turned all cctvs off which then directly caused you to get kidnapped), he almost didn't get the chance to regret what he did (and said) to you.

But Wooyoung wasn't gonna let other people know that he has remorse. Heck no.

He's the Jung family head mafia and there isn't anyone allowed to know how he's actually like.

Except you.

Right after you wake up.

So instead of letting Yeosang's staffs take you away, Wooyoung swooped you in his deceptively strong arms and put you on the gurney.

Once he's sure that you're secured, he looked at Yeosang and his staffs with narrowed eyes, "no offense, man, but I don't trust any of them," Wooyoung then look to his men who's stationed by his door, "get their details and do thorough background checks on them," he said before pushing the gurney down, forcing Yeosang to personally help him.

He made sure that his men were stationed at every entrance, ran background checks on every staff that entered his place, heck even put out a curfew for everyone including his visiting friends.

"Dude, you gotta get out of here, you look like a zombie," San said as he entered the room, walking towards Wooyoung who had moved his desk closer to the bed where you lied motionless. He slightly cringed when he saw the needles that poked through the skin of your hand.

Without looking up from his work, Wooyoung sighed and shook his head, "she could wake up any second, I wanna be here when she does" he muttered, eyes flitting to your form on the bed for a second.

San approached his friend, leaning both hands on the table, "Wooyoung, you missed 3 important meetings, 2 briefings, and you haven't delegated workloads other than security details for your own place, the organization will be in shambles soon," he said sternly.

Hearing facts behind his words irked Wooyoung, he knew about the current vulnerability in his organization because he's only been taking care of you since you came back to him. He didn't want to be reminded of his previous neglect.

He was about to tell San off when suddenly a voice chimed in.

"You should go do your job, Wooyoung," you called, coughing a little from scratchy throat.

It took him some time to fully realize that you had woken up after five days. He immediately run to your side and help you sit up, ordering San to get you a glass of water.

Once your throat had been soothed by the water, Wooyoung held your hand in his, kissing the back side of it multiple times to express how glad he is, "thank God you woke up, I-I don't know what I'd do if you don't," he choked, feeling tears start to brim on his eyes.

You initially didn't pull away from his touch nor his affection, maybe it's the fact that you had just woken up, maybe you think you're hallucinating, because the Jung Wooyoung you knew would never talk to you or treat you like this.

Though it hurts, you pulled your hand away from his grip, cringing a bit, "F-funny you say that, last time we spoke you said you wanted me dead," you muttered bitterly at him.

Sensing that this is a personal conversation, San slipped away before hearing anything else.

Wooyoung stared at you with sad eyes, "No, baby, I would never," he reached forward, trying to take your hand in his once again. But you scooted further into the bed, your eyes started watering, "liar," you choked out, "you said you've been planning my assassination since the beginning and you wanted to go through with it,"

"I-I did, didn't I? I can't deny I've said that to you, but please, losing you was the hardest thing that ever happened to me-"

"Well what about me!?" You exclaimed, cutting him off, surprising him at the tone you used.

By now tears had streamed down your face, your hands were clutching the blanket on your lap tightly as you began sobbing, "f-for a year, I've been nothing but understanding to you and your actions, I've done nothing but try to stay out of your way, all I asked in return was to be treated like a human being, but you couldn't even do that now, could you ? I even had to get kidnapped by whoever's after you for you to finally give half a fuck about me," you were choking the words out, your raw emotion evident with the way you speak.

Wooyoung never once seen this side of you, the side that is so raw and vulnerable. Sure, he'd occassionally hear your soft sobs through the en suite bathroom or came across your quivering figure in the gardens. But never once did you bore yourself to him like this.

Despite knowing that you might push him away, Wooyoung climbed into bed as quick as he can and enveloped you tightly in his arms.

At first you tried pushing him off with all your strength, not wanting to be comforted by him. But he held on, he knew his way around people's movement so using his knowledge against you was an easy feat.

It took you a while, you still struggled for a bit but you eventually gave in, letting his arms wrap around you and tucking your head under his chin. By now you had somehow situated between his legs, him carefully minding the IV on your right hand as he pulled you in deeper (as if it's possible).

"I know that I don't deserve it, heck, I deserve nothing from you after putting you in hell like that, but I sincerely apopogize and I will do anything and everything I can in order to gain your trust and maybe..." he pulled back slightly and tilt your chin up so he can meet your gaze, "...we can go forth and build a relationship?"

Stranger things had happened in your life but this, by far, is the strangest. Never in a million years would you ever thought that you'd be able to see the great Jung Wooyoung blush like a high school girl. It's honestly cute.

But not as cute as when he bit his lips to prevent his mouth from tearing due to the large grin that bloomed on his face once you gave him a nod, agreeing to him after leaving him nervous for a solid 5 minutes.

[bylagunabay]

Power of the ROSARY

5 URGENT REASONS TO PRAY THE ROSARY IN THESE LAST TIMES

(3-minute read)

Based on his keen insight and long experience, Fr. Hugh Thwaites, S.J mentions five urgent reasons to pray the rosary especially for families.

1 WHEN THE ROSARY GOES, THE FAITH SOON COLLAPSES

In Austria, after World War II, there was a complete collapse of vocations. One year, apparently, no one at all entered the seminaries. So the bishops held a synod, to find out how it could be that this had happened. The conclusion they reached was that the war had so disrupted family life that the centuries-old practice of the rosary in the home had stopped and had just not started up again. This is my experience, too; when the rosary goes, the faith soon collapses.

I remember someone telling me of a friend of his, a great Catholic, the pillar of the parish, whose children had all lapsed, one after the other. They had all fallen away from the sacraments and from attending Mass. So I said to him, "I wouldn't mind betting that your friend had been brought up to recite the family rosary when he was a boy, and that his children haven't." The next time I saw him, he said that this was indeed true. His friend had recited the family rosary at home when he was a boy, and when he had got married and started his own family they all said the rosary. But then, one evening when they were about to start the rosary, one of the children switched on the television, and that was that. The custom of the family rosary was dropped, and in due course, they gave up the practice of the faith.

 2 WE CANNOT WITH IMPUNITY DISOBEY THE MOTHER OF GOD

After this life, that one unrebuked action will be seen to have affected the eternity of many people. God sent his mother to Fatima to tell us that we had to say the rosary every day. There were no other prayers She asked us to say. Accordingly, we should do what She asked.

If we want in any way to be like Jesus, we must do what His Mother asks. If we do not, can we expect things to go right? We cannot with impunity disobey the Mother of God. She knows better than we the dangers of this spiritual warfare. She sees more clearly than we do the dangers that beset us. She warns us: you must say your rosary every day.

And if Our Lady comes to Fatima and tells us, not just once but six times, that we must say the rosary every day, do we disregard that warning? If we do, we have only ourselves to blame when we find that our children have lapsed from the faith.

It really seems to me that those Catholics who do not take Fatima seriously and say the rosary every day in their homes are very akin to the Jews who laughed at Jeremiah. If God sends us His prophets and we do not take them seriously – well, we have the whole of the Old Testament to tell us what happens as a result. But at Fatima, God sent us, not His prophets, but His Immaculate Mother.

 3 THE CHURCH OF THE FUTURE IS GOING TO CONSIST SOLELY OF THOSE FAMILIES WHO HAVE BEEN FAITHFUL TO THE ROSARY

So I think that the abandonment of the family rosary is a main reason why so many Catholics have lost the faith. It seems to me that the church of the future is going to consist solely of those families who have been faithful to the rosary. But there will be vast numbers of people whose families used to be Catholic.

 4 HOMES CAN BE TRANSFORMED

In my work of going round visiting homes, I have seen this conclusion borne out time and again. Homes can be transformed by starting the recitation of the daily rosary.

I remember a woman telling me that she could not thank me enough for having nagged her into starting it; it had united her family as never before. And I remember another home where I called. There was a strange tension there: the children were silent and the wife seemed withdrawn, but the husband was willing to start the family rosary. When I called back again a couple of months later, the atmosphere was quite different. The children were chatty and the wife was friendly, and the husband walked down the road with me afterwards and said how amazing it was that the home was so much happier.

 5 THE ROSARY DRIVES DEMONS OUT AND KEEPS THEM OUT

From what some possessed people have said, and from what some of the saints have said, it seems certain that demons fear the rosary. It makes their hair stand on end, so to speak. Holy water certainly drives them out, but they come back again. The daily rosary drives them out and keeps them out. And in a home where the rosary is said every day, after a time the demons realize they are impotent in front of Our Lady and go elsewhere.

~Taken from the booklet "Our Glorious Faith and How To Lose It" written by Fr. Hugh Thwaites, S.J

[ashxketchum]

Writer’s Month - 2

Wow, not me writing something for two days in a row? This one is a stand-alone oneshot for now, but I think there is a lot of potential for a sequel, I even have some part of it clearly planned out so if time allows me to sit down with my laptop sooner than later, I’ll work on that! 

Fandom/Pairing: Digimon/Mimato (friendship, yes I am capable of writing something other than romance between these two hahahaaa) 

Prompt: Coffee shop setting, cold (Yamato is very cold here, it’s actually kinda angsty) 

Setting: Post Tri but pre Kizuna. Yamato is in his first year of college and Mimi is in her last year of high school. The basis for this fic is solely the dialogue in To Sora, I wanted to explore the idea of Mimi and Yamato growing closer and having important conversations with each other, but it had to have a rocky start and this is that rocky start! 

~

“I’ll have a venti matcha berry frappe, nonfat, refrigerated chilled milk, absolutely no ice, extra whipped cream, which, make sure, is layered perfectly, with three pumps of caramel syrup and two of vanilla.”

He could feel his manager’s eyes boring into his back, so Yamato did what any other good employee in his place would, he kept a straight face and diligently noted down the customer’s request before moving on to ringing it up without once bothering to look at the girl standing behind the counter or ask for her name. He wondered if his manager would find it strange, that he hadn’t taken the customer’s name, but seeing as Yamato was already putting all his effort into concentrating well on his job and not explode on the brunette who seemed to take some pleasure out of his misery, he decided that he was allowed this one slip and he’d deal with his manager later, since the bigger problem was in front of him, eyeing him with a teasing glint in her caramel eyes as he picked up the paper cup and moved over to the work station to begin working on her order. He did however, kept a track of what his manager was doing from the corner of his eye, and the minute the older man was out of sight, Yamato breathed a sigh of relief and spun on his feet.

“Please Mimi, by all means, go ahead and make my job more difficult.” Yamato seethed, managing to keep his voice low so as to not attract any attention to them.

“Well, if you’re going to ask that nicely.” Mimi smirked, as always she had the upper hand in the conversation due to the safety guaranteed by being a customer at the shop.

“Just take the drink and go, let me work in peace.” Yamato attempted to maintain a superior tone as he begged her to leave, turning again to add the finishing touches to her order as quickly as he could, before his superior caught whiff of his not so welcoming attitude towards their customers.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Mimi beamed at him, as she accepted the finished product from his hand, her fingers brushed against his for a brief moment, suddenly making Yamato hyper aware of the spot at the back of his hand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do? Entrance exams to worry about?” He asked exasperatedly, she seemed too carefree for someone who was in the last year of their high school, remembering his own experience of it from the previous year.

Mimi scoffed in reply, waving a hand in the air to brush aside his concern for her education, instead of turning to make her way out of the store now that she had received her order, she settled on the empty bar stool on the other side of the pick-up counter, resting one elbow on the counter top as she took careful sips of her drink from the other hand. He watched her like a hawk, Yamato wouldn’t put it past the brunette to make fake claims about the taste of the drink just to get him into trouble. 

This had been going on for a few months now, every time he had a shift during her after school hours, Mimi would make it her life’s purpose to show up and annoy him to no extent. He’d attempted to explain to her, that he really needed to keep this job to maintain his life expenses, but apparently the pleasure she took from watching him stumble around while making coffee seemed to take precedent over his livelihood.

Of course, Mimi wasn’t the only one to blame here, if only his roommate at the college dorm wasn’t a bigger pain in the ass, Yamato would never had have to take up this part-time job in the first place. When he had complained to his father about not being able to get along well with his roomie, instead of agreeing to raise his monthly allowance so that Yamato could move out and rent a place of his own, his father had promptly told him that as an adult, he should learn to solve his own problems from now on. Yamato had half a mind to remind his father that him and his friends had not only solved the Digital World’s problems on multiple occasions, but also saved their own world by doing so, but he had stayed quiet and accepted his fate. On Takeru’s recommendation he had taken up a part-time job at this popular coffee joint, the pay was decent and the hours weren’t too bad and well Yamato always had had a knack for being good in the kitchen, so it had been suiting his purposes of saving up to move out of the college dorm as soon as possible just well.

Until Mimi happened to walk in one day and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She had been surprised to see him behind the counter, and at first she had just been curious, about what he was doing here or what he had been up to since the graduation ceremony. Yamato had to admit, that ever since he had graduated high school, he’d finally understood what Jou had been struggling with for the longest time, it wasn’t easy to maintain friendships when one was thrust with the responsibility of taking care of every single aspect of their lives and somehow pursue studies on which one’s future life depended at the same time. He considered himself lucky, if he was able to have a phone conversation with Takeru that lasted more than 5 minutes in a day. So he hadn’t been wary of Mimi popping up every now and them, updating him about her and Koushiro’s school life, and sometimes Jou’s and Sora’s too. It gave him a way to stay connected with everyone without having to make time for them, and while he did feel guilty about this on multiple occasions, he was grateful for it too.

That was before Mimi got bored with just talking about their lives, and decided to spice up their encounters by getting him to light trouble with his manager. It was usually just silly little things like claiming he got her order wrong or giving extremely complicated and hard to follow requests, and she had never pulled something huge that would seriously get Yamato in trouble, but it was still frustrating and it ruined his mojo for the rest of his shift.

There was also the question of why Mimi had suddenly taken such a liking to spending time with him, of all people, since they had never been close enough for a relationship like this. They’d spent time together before sure, and they’d had their fair share of agreements and disagreements when it came to matters related to the Digital World, but apart from that Yamato could barely remember any interactions with her that didn’t circle back to the Digital World or their Digimon Partners. So the thought always nagged at him, at the back of his head, when she would appear with a skip in her step and fix him with one of the brightest smiles he knew.

But then she would go on to do something diabolical, and he’d be reminded of how similar she was to his little brother, which led to him missing Takeru and left him irritated and wishing for her to leave.

Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Yamato turned his attention towards the brunette sitting in front of him, she had set down the drink on the counter top and was currently surveying the store with her bright eyes, the mischievous glint in them indicating that she was just looking for something that could serve as prop of the day in interfering with his work. Relieved that he had caught her while she was still in her planning phase, Yamato decided to take control of the situation before his manager returned and reprimanded him for being rude to their customers.

“You really don’t have anything better to do?” Yamato began icily, making Mimi turn her gaze towards him, the challenging look on her face seemed to put the last nail to his patience’s coffin as he snapped at her, “Don’t you have any friends?”

He regretted it the minute those words left his mouth, biting his tongue in an attempt to stop himself from groaning outwardly.

The effect on Mimi was immediate, all colour drained from her face and her eyes shone with a blanket of tears just waiting to fall, but with a single blink she managed to keep them at bay and faced him with a hardened look as she replied quietly, “I thought that’s what we were.”

And before Yamato could make any attempts to take back his statements or even begin to apologize for his behaviour, Mimi was out of the door, leaving behind her drink on the counter and without sparing a single glance in his direction.

Yamato allowed himself to groan out loud when he picked up her cup to clear the counter and found that it was still heavy, she had barely begun to drink it. He couldn’t help but chide himself internally, for missing on something that was so obvious, for even deliberating on an answer that was right in front of his eyes this entire time.

Yamato couldn’t believe that he, of all people, had missed out on the signs of their budding friendship, had pushed it aside as nothing but an occasional nuisance within his routine. 

His optimistic side hoped that he would just explain himself to her when she’d show up tomorrow, even offer her her favourite drink for free as a token of his apology, but a tiny voice at the back of his head reminded him, that there was no way Mimi would come back to spend time with him after this.

Unfortunately, it was the tiny voice that prevailed in its prediction, as Mimi didn’t show the next day or the one after that, or after that.

At first Yamato consoled himself by devoting himself to the tasks at hand, happy to finally be able concentrate on his work, he managed to win praises from his manager on multiple occasions which pushed Mimi’s absence from his surroundings out of his head, and for a while it worked.

But then there were slow days, when he didn’t have much to do but stand behind the counter and look at all the people sitting around in groups of twos and threes, laughing and chatting loudly as they sipped their coffees and munched on their food. The sight would tug on an invisible string in his heart, make him long for Mimi’s teasing smile as she rattled off with an order comprising of the most incompatible ingredients, laughing loudly at the look of horror that would take over his face as he wrote down her instructions. There were days when the shop would be eerily silent, and he’d hear her voice in his head, telling him about something that had happened at school. There were days when someone would walk by with a pet, cuddling it and showering it with affection, making him miss Gabumon’s soft fur and he’d instinctively turn towards the pick-up counter, hoping to tell Mimi about it but was met with emptiness instead.

He hadn’t realised, just how much he had managed to share with her during their encounters, and how he had begun to depend on her company to get him through his mundane work life. And in true Yamato fashion, he had gone ahead and messed it all up by thinking about things from only his perspective.

His father’s words echoed in his mind once again, he had to learn to solve his own problems, and what better time to start than now?

[cozycryptidcorner]

I'm sure there is a place to complain but I'm just so tired, in some defense, they were incredibly busy, but they were making people's meds as they were picking them up so idk why my dad's was the one that got pushed like that, I went through the long ass line and picked up what I originally thought was everything, they didn't say there was anything else and they made those after I got to the pick up counter, so I go out and dad is like yah no there's supposed to be more, so I go back in, wait in another long ass line and when I get there and I tell em I'm missing scripts, they tell me to go to drop off, so I go to a separate long line and wait then tell the lady that we're missing scripts, she tells me it'll be 20 to 25 minutes of waiting, mind you it's already been an hour or so, so I'm like sure whatever I'll be over in that corner waiting, an entire hour goes by, the pharmacy is starting to empty out and they're close to closing when a different lady asks what I'm waiting for, I give her the name and his bithdate, she looks it up then goes over and starts putting it together, start to finish they spent 5 minutes... I paid and left which is when I got to the car and saw my poor dad in bad shape, so I stopped and got him Wendy's cause he finally had some meds to help him not throw up all his food and I was too exhausted to cook, man was so out of it he couldn't muster the strength to sit up to put his seat belt back on, and I didn't have the heart to nag him about it. We got home and I sorted all his meds out trying to figure out what he needed to take now and what could wait, which is when I realized they originally didn't give us the 2 most important meds so if we had just left with what they gave us he'd be double fucked. So I made little labels for him and explained he needed to drink lots of water and how to take some of his meds, and after he fell asleep on the couch I went to my room cause I have a massive headache from all of this and I still have work tomorrow. Also in case I never told you, my birthday is a curse, and the closer to the day it gets, the worse things get. Happens every year without fail. Pretty suspicious that my dad has been absolutely fine through all of covid and as soon as it's close to my birthday he's sicker than he's ever been in his entire life. I'm a plague upon my family and everyone knows it. It's literally a running "joke" that my birth was a curse because most major bad events seem to coincide with my birthday and it's been like that since the day I was born. I came outta the womb bringing chaos and misfortune and it's yet to stop. Mayhaps that's the depression and anxiety talking but ya girl got a track record. Seriously it's every year and it isn't even like 1 or 2 events, it's usually multiple events that get progressively worse the closer it gets to the date, and usually things don't start to get better for me mentally till about mid to late February. Can it just be March already, I don't think I have the strength for this year. 😭💜🐼

:\ that sounds like a nightmare, I can't believe that. I remember you telling me about the birthday curse, though! I completely understand, I honestly think my birthday's a curse too. The only time I really celebrate it when I'm by myself :| let me send you some things! I've got some Art Stuff I either need to shelve or give out, and I know you're a bit of a maximalist when it comes to decorating.

[thepandamightwrite]

Chapter 1: The Poisoning

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Alcohol mention, poison, indirect death mention, attempted murder

Age group: Young adult

Whole Story Blurb: When Amira Bashir almost dies from hydrogen peroxide poisoning, PI Anjali Dayal must figure out who wants the president dead. Only 6 people could've spiked the glass, and with all of them having strong motives and shaky alibis, the case proves quite difficult to crack.

Notes: I’m so excited to share part one of my WIP with you guys! This idea has been nagging at me for a little while and I finally got around to writing it. Constructive criticism is always appreciated! Hope you enjoy it!

~†~

The elaborate diamond chandelier tosses tiny rainbows around the ballroom packed with drunk ambassadors. Isabella Garcia wishes she could stop working for a little bit and admire the splendor, maybe take a few pictures as well. But alas, she's still on duty and Luke will throw a fit if she stops for even a moment. As she makes her way back to the White House kitchens, she can't help but feel the familiar stab of envy at her extravagant surroundings. The people that claimed to be working for common citizens were the ones spending $50,000 on a glass of champagne.

Normally, Isabella would be able to put it out of her mind and do her job properly, but the imbalance irks her more than usual today. She throws open the doors of the kitchen and within a couple seconds, a tray full of drinks is thrust in her arms and she's shuttled back to the cursed ballroom. "Stupid ambassadors. Being treated like kings and queens instead of the entitled scums they are," Isabella grumbles as she trudges down the plush, carpeted hallways. On her way, Isabella glances at the note on her tray that guides her to the drinks' final destination, and she almost drops the glasses in surprise.

40 y/o Macallan Whiskey ---------------------------------- Ambassador William Burton

Dom Perignon --------------------------------------------------- Ambassador Irina Petrov

Orange Juice ------------------------------------------------- First Husband Aariz Bashir

Sparkling Water --------------------------------------------------- President Amira Bashir

Isabella stands in the middle of the deserted hallway, her jaw on the floor, stomach turning, and her sweaty palms struggle to grip the tray that's slowly sliding out of her grasp. Get ahold of yourself Garcia. Don't screw this up. She straightens her tie, runs her fingers through her hair, and pats the vial in her pocket. Considering her clientele, she'd need it later.

~†~

Secret Service Agent Miyoko Mori glances down at her watch, whose hands aren't moving any faster, despite her staring at it incessantly for the last few hours. 2 minutes and 30 seconds left. She drums her restless fingers against the table with the poison testing materials. No one's ever dared to spike anyone's glass, after all, there wasn't exactly a way to get anything dangerous into the White House in the first place. But still, out of a ridiculous abundance of caution, Miyoko had to test every single glass entering the ballroom for traces of toxins. Where is she?

Suddenly, Isabella turns the corner, balancing a tray of drinks and donning an endearing smile. "Agent Mori! I'm baaaack!" she calls in a singsong voice. "It's about time," Miyoko retorts. "I've been waiting for you to show up for the last 5 minutes! It's so dull here and I missed talking to you." "Aww, can't live without me can you," Isabelle teases with a flirty grin. "I mean I could, but it'd be rather boring, especially considering the only other person here is Agent Carter," Miyoko responds, gesturing at the burly man a few feet away. "That does sound rough," agrees Isabella. "But try serving drinks to drunk, pompous officers, and you'll be begging for your boring job in a few minutes." Agent Mori shakes her head disapprovingly as she places the poison testing strips inside each drink.

Then, she notices the label on the tray revealing that one of these drinks will reach the president herself. Well, the universe is certainly kind to me today, she thinks to herself. I'd be a fool not to take the opportunity that's fallen so perfectly into my lap. Once the tests come back negative, she takes the strips out of the glasses, lingering for just a second longer than she needs to in order to get the job done. "You're all good to go," Miyoko says, lying through her teeth.

~†~

Why didn't I wear heels, laments Russian Ambassador Irina Petrov as she waits for her drink. Most people would be glad to don comfortable flats instead of piercing stilettos, but the cursed shoes give her the 2 inches of height she so desperately needs. Especially considering her peers are at least a foot taller than her, Irina could use the heels to make people take her seriously. Sometimes, she wished Ambassador Burton wouldn't be listened to either, after all, he did spout nonsense most of the time. At the moment, he was debating the president and her husband about some stupid topic Irina couldn't bring herself to care about.

In that respect, Amira is commendable to say the least. Even though she's only a couple inches taller than Irina, Amira Bashir has a certain air of power and influence that makes even the most stubborn man pay attention. If only circumstances were different, I could actually learn a thing or two from her.

The British Ambassador, William Burton, starts yapping about drug prices and Aariz Bashir looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. Or maybe he was babbling about the military. Irina had already consumed a few too many drinks. She would look better with pale skin and glassy eyes. She shakes her head vehemently in an attempt to banish the distasteful thoughts from her mind. "Really Ambassador Burton? I would've thought you of all people would be in support of the Bashir Trade Deal. After all, the trade routes it proposes would make it far easier to distribute goods all over Russia," challenges the president. Oh no. Irina stammers an excuse for her absentmindedness, hoping that it could all be blamed on the 4 glasses of champagne she'd consumed earlier in the evening. One glance at Amira told her that wasn't the case and her stomach churned in apprehension.

The president was intimidating on a regular day, but seeing her angry was even worse. Ambassador Petrov could never forget that fateful day when she'd been more terrified of Amira than her, or probably anyone, had been in their lives. If the president could hold a grudge just like she did her secret, Irina was in big trouble. Amira's strategy was to let the information fester until it drove everyone to insanity. Not for much longer. Right on cue, the waitress arrives with the drinks and after William takes his whisky, Irene reaches for her champagne with shaking hands, hesitating longer than necessary.

~†~

Amira eyelids feel like they are 250 pound weights, as though she would fall asleep any minute. Although she's never consumed any alcohol, she still felt rather hungover from all the useless conversation. Back when Amira first ran for president, she hadn't realized how many meaningless balls and galas she'd be subject to. Naively, she'd taken the job thinking she'd be transparent about everything and only do things that would help regular, working class people. Unfortunately, that childish dream had been extinguished after a few months, when the AI war took place. The casualties still weighed heavily on Amira's conscience, but if she could go back and make those difficult decisions again, she probably wouldn't change anything. That truly scared her.

"President Bashir, you have a meeting with the Secretary of State in 15 minutes," chirps Alyssa Miller, her personal assistant. "Very well. If you could get the necessary technology ready, I'll meet you in the Oval Office in 10 minutes." "Absolutely," Alyssa replies as she scurries off, leaving 3 broken vases and multiple squashed toes in her wake. President Bashir shakes her head, but laughs to herself as the waitress brings their drinks.

"Here you are, dear," says Aariz as he hands Amira her sparkling water. The president knows her husband is quiet to begin with, but this was the first sentence he'd spoken for the whole evening. Something was off, and Amira intended to find out, right after this stupid gala was over. As she reaches for her glass, Agent Brown swats her hand out of the way and takes it for himself. "Lucas!" "Sorry ma'am, it's protocol," he responds with an apologetic expression on his face. President Bashir rolls her eyes at the unnecessary precautions, but waits for the glass to be tested for poison. She looks around the room, noticing the nervous, distracted, apprehensive expressions of the people closest to her. Something seems a little off about everyone, but before Amira can think about it too much, Lucas yells the fateful words that sends her life spiralling. "There's poison!"

~†~

[judylicious]

And When He Smiles I Swear I Can’t Breathe

Alan Rubin x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,445

Fandom: Blues Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Blues Brothers characters or movies. This refers to Alan Rubin as a character in the movie, not the real Alan (although he obvsly played himself but you know what I mean)

I’d like to add that I made everyone of the band a few years younger (so the age gap between the reader and Alan isn’t that big), so he’s approx. in his early 30s.

Sophia & Lisa are two OCs created by two lovely people within the fandom.

Warnings: swearing, racist remarks !!! (they do NOT reflect my own opinion)

Chapter V

When the trumpet player noticed Charlotte he was speechless with amazement. “Alan?” “Charlotte?” They almost said simultaneously. They both stared into each others faces until both had a smile on their lips. “Wait- Frank Ellington is your father?” “You know him?”, the young woman chuckled. He’s rather present in the newspaper.” And before Charlotte could ask him about his job at the restaurant, they felt the gaze of Charlotte’s family. The were too far away to hear or probably didn’t even notice the two had a chat. They were waiting for Alan to show them to their table. The maître d reacted quickly and did what the guests expected him to do. The handsome man handed the family the menu and couldn’t help himself but steal a few glances from Charlotte, who only managed to smile back sheepishly. She had been so angry the other night, seeing that woman in his lap but as soon as he smiled at her she would forget everything around her again every time.

A few minutes later everyone of the waiters still seemed busy so Alan grasped the opportunity to be near Charlotte and took their orders. Mr. Ellington ordered a bottle of the finest champagne for the family’s celebration and a martini for himself as well. “Dad, do you think this is wise?”, Charlotte asked in a low tone. “Do you think it’s wise to order dessert?”, he said in a strict tone, looking down at her. “Why don’t we let the lady order what she likes, Sir.”, Alan said with a fake smile but Charlotte’s father didn’t spend any attention to his remark. She wanted to cry, that was how embarrassed she felt. Not only that Alan heard the snark about her weight but also that he stood up for her made her feel even worse.

After Alan had left the table the head of the family grabbed his daughter’s arm with a strong grip, pulling her a few inches towards him. “Don’t you embarrass me like this ever again.” He hissed, tightening his grip on her. “Sorry.” “What was that?!” “I’m sorry, father.”, Charlotte repeated a bit louder. Alan turned his back witnessing the situation and wanted to intervene but he also didn’t like to make a scene.

The family enjoyed their first course quietly until they were served the main course. “This Bouillabaisse is a disaster.”, Charlotte’s father nagged, almost spitting it out, flushing away the “horrible” taste by chugging his fourth martini. He looked around to find a waiter and spotted Alan a few tables a way, checking if everything was in order. “Waiter? Sir? Please?” Alan quickly walked over to the family. “Yes, Sir, how are your salads?” “The salads are fine. It’s just that, well this Bouillabaisse, it’s a culinary Hindenburg.” “I’m sincerely sorry, Sir, what seems to be wrong with it?” “The fish is utterly dry, the chilli note is way too strong and frankly I think your chef omitted the saffron.” “Dad, I can see the saffron from over here and I’m sure the fish’s just fine.”, Charlotte rolled her eyes and was about to pick up some of the fish on her father’s plate with her fork but he slashed at her hand. “May I bring you a freshly made one, Sir, or anything else?” “No, I don’t think so.” “How about a drink of your choice to come on the house, Sir?” “Just take this crap away from me, will you!”, he said furiously and handed Alan the plate forceful but rammed it into the maître d, the whole dish spilling on his shirt and suit coat. “Dad what you’re doing?”, Charlotte exclaimed embarrassed. “It’s not my fault this man doesn’t know how to do his bloody job!” “Frank, stop swearing!” But Sylvia turned silent as soon as her husband shot her an angry look. “It’s fine, Sir. Those things happen.” “Of course these things happen to YOU. Don’t even see why you’ve been appointed head waiter.” “DAD!” “No, seriously look at this clown. Trying to hide he’s born in the jewish gutter by working in an upper class restaurant.” Alan swallowed and Charlotte couldn’t even look at him. She felt deeply ashamed of her father’s behaviour. She just sat there, starring apathetically into her lap, praying this would end as soon as possible. “Sir, I will see what I can do about your Bouillabaisse.”, he gave Frank a polite nod and headed with the plate to the kitchen. “Will you excuse me.”, Charlotte said getting up from her chair. “Where do you think you’re you going?!”, her father clutching at her arm again tightly. “I have to powder my nose!”, she said perky and freed herself from her father.

On her way Charlotte past the men’s room and saw Alan inside, standing in front of the mirror, frustrated, rubbing a tissue on his shirt. She assured herself no one saw her when she took a step inside and Alan saw her reflection in the mirror. “I’m awfully sorry for all that. My dad, he’s…” “A very pleasant man.”, Alan chuckled. “Sometimes he is. But as soon as the alcohol gets to him…” “This ain’t your fault.” She smiled in response. “Wait, let me help you with this.”, she said in a soft tone and took one of the cotton towels, soaked it with warm water and carefully dabbed the stain. Both kept quiet for a while as she was taking care of his shirt. She could feel his breath against her skin and it was only now when she realised how close he was. She slowly moved her glance from the stain on his shirt to his beautiful and soothing eyes, which were staring intensely into hers. She could look into them forever, sink into them for the rest of her life. He was about to say something, when his lips moved and caught Charlotte’s eye. They were slightly apart, which enhanced the shape of his luscious lips. In one hand the towel, the other lying on his strong chest, she felt how his hands wandered to her lower back. Both their breathes became more intense, Charlotte felt her chest tightened up and her heart pounding like mad. Alan slowly bringing his face closer to hers, when suddenly a man entered the rest room and Alan and Charlotte instantly lost hold of one another. The man cleared his throat. “I believe this to be the men’s room.” “Sorry.”, Charlotte mumbled embarrassed and left the room, Alan followed her. “I should probably change into a new shirt. I’ll catch you later.” “Alan?”, she grabbed his arm. “The other night when I ran away.”, Charlotte started but Alan interrupted her. “That woman, she was completely drunk, she cringed to me like limpet as soon as we walked in. Jake and the bartender helped to get her off of me and we called a taxi to take her home.” “I’m so sorry I left. I- I don’t have any right, I mean I’m overcautious when it comes to men I like, surrounded by other woman and-“ “Sophia and Lisa told me about your ex.” “But still I don’t have any right to be jealous nor tell you with whom you should surround yourself. We didn’t even went on a date and I totally overreacted-“ “Let’s change that!” “Me overreacting?” “No.”, he scoffed. “Us not being on a date yet. Well, and perhaps we can also change the other thing.”, he grinned sarcastically. “Charlotte Ellington, would you do me the honour to take you out?” “You’re out of your mind.”, she laughed. “It would be my pleasure.”, she replied, trying to talk in posh way. “How about dinner Friday night?” “Sounds lovely.” “Great, I pick you up at 8.” He smiled at her, causing her almost to digress again. “I better go or my parents think I’ve fallen into the loo.”, she joked and got back to her table.

Her sudden change of mood didn’t stay unnoticed by her family. “What are you so chipper about?” “Me? Nothing, got my period.” She knocked on the table. “Not pregnant.” Causing her sister to almost spit out her water laughing. “Yes, very amusing you, two.”, Sylvia shook her head at the girls and before Frank had a chance to raise his voice she laid her hand on his arm. “Why don’t we all get a grip on ourself and try to enjoy what’s left of this evening, shall we?” And it worked surprisingly well, since no one actually talked much and Alan gave their table a wide berth, of course not without eyeing up Charlotte and exchanging a few looks and smiles with her.

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

[faithtreasurescatholic]

Power of the ROSARY

5 URGENT REASONS TO PRAY THE ROSARY IN THESE LAST TIMES

(3-minute read)

Based on his keen insight and long experience, Fr. Hugh Thwaites, S.J mentions five urgent reasons to pray the rosary especially for families.

1 WHEN THE ROSARY GOES, THE FAITH SOON COLLAPSES

In Austria, after World War II, there was a complete collapse of vocations. One year, apparently, no one at all entered the seminaries. So the bishops held a synod, to find out how it could be that this had happened. The conclusion they reached was that the war had so disrupted family life that the centuries-old practice of the rosary in the home had stopped and had just not started up again. This is my experience, too; when the rosary goes, the faith soon collapses.

I remember someone telling me of a friend of his, a great Catholic, the pillar of the parish, whose children had all lapsed, one after the other. They had all fallen away from the sacraments and from attending Mass. So I said to him, "I wouldn't mind betting that your friend had been brought up to recite the family rosary when he was a boy, and that his children haven't." The next time I saw him, he said that this was indeed true. His friend had recited the family rosary at home when he was a boy, and when he had got married and started his own family they all said the rosary. But then, one evening when they were about to start the rosary, one of the children switched on the television, and that was that. The custom of the family rosary was dropped, and in due course, they gave up the practice of the faith.

 2 WE CANNOT WITH IMPUNITY DISOBEY THE MOTHER OF GOD

After this life, that one unrebuked action will be seen to have affected the eternity of many people. God sent his mother to Fatima to tell us that we had to say the rosary every day. There were no other prayers She asked us to say. Accordingly, we should do what She asked.

If we want in any way to be like Jesus, we must do what His Mother asks. If we do not, can we expect things to go right? We cannot with impunity disobey the Mother of God. She knows better than we the dangers of this spiritual warfare. She sees more clearly than we do the dangers that beset us. She warns us: you must say your rosary every day.

And if Our Lady comes to Fatima and tells us, not just once but six times, that we must say the rosary every day, do we disregard that warning? If we do, we have only ourselves to blame when we find that our children have lapsed from the faith.

It really seems to me that those Catholics who do not take Fatima seriously and say the rosary every day in their homes are very akin to the Jews who laughed at Jeremiah. If God sends us His prophets and we do not take them seriously – well, we have the whole of the Old Testament to tell us what happens as a result. But at Fatima, God sent us, not His prophets, but His Immaculate Mother.

 3 THE CHURCH OF THE FUTURE IS GOING TO CONSIST SOLELY OF THOSE FAMILIES WHO HAVE BEEN FAITHFUL TO THE ROSARY

So I think that the abandonment of the family rosary is a main reason why so many Catholics have lost the faith. It seems to me that the church of the future is going to consist solely of those families who have been faithful to the rosary. But there will be vast numbers of people whose families used to be Catholic.

 4 HOMES CAN BE TRANSFORMED

In my work of going round visiting homes, I have seen this conclusion borne out time and again. Homes can be transformed by starting the recitation of the daily rosary.

I remember a woman telling me that she could not thank me enough for having nagged her into starting it; it had united her family as never before. And I remember another home where I called. There was a strange tension there: the children were silent and the wife seemed withdrawn, but the husband was willing to start the family rosary. When I called back again a couple of months later, the atmosphere was quite different. The children were chatty and the wife was friendly, and the husband walked down the road with me afterwards and said how amazing it was that the home was so much happier.

 5 THE ROSARY DRIVES DEMONS OUT AND KEEPS THEM OUT

From what some possessed people have said, and from what some of the saints have said, it seems certain that demons fear the rosary. It makes their hair stand on end, so to speak. Holy water certainly drives them out, but they come back again. The daily rosary drives them out and keeps them out. And in a home where the rosary is said every day, after a time the demons realize they are impotent in front of Our Lady and go elsewhere.

~Taken from the booklet "Our Glorious Faith and How To Lose It" written by Fr. Hugh Thwaites, S.J

[mka1098]

I Ask For Your Hand In Marriage -A PJO Fanfiction

A Percy Jackson Royal AU Fanfiction

Description: Percy is a prince, Annabeth is a royal overseer and they both are idiots who don’t realize they are in love.

If you want this fanfic read out for you, click the link - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rngkxsHmkAU 

Chapter 2

In truth, Percy’s head was reeling and he was not very happy with what his parents had just asked of him. Or more so what Annabeth had signed him up for! He wasn’t planning on being a bachelor forever, that would literally be impossible as a first born and only child monchach of a thriving kingdom. 

“Why would you do this to me?” Percy whined when they got into the hallway and headed back to his room. Annabeth rolled her grey eyes.

 “Do you want the traditional version? Because believe me you’d hate it.” She shot back. 

“I don’t like this.” Percy said like a child, planting himself onto his bed. He crossed his arms and pouted. Annabeth sat down next to him and allowed him to lean his head on her shoulder. “I know. But you’ll find a Princess you’ll like. I promise.” She said, wrapping a hand under his head to rub his cheek like she did back when they were kids and Percy was stressed about ruling the kingdom one day. 

“Why can’t you just do the things?” He said.

 “Oh my god. We literally went over this with you like three times. How else am I going to drill it into your head. This is like the one thing I can’t help you with.” She groaned.

 Percy made a whining noise when she stopped moving her hand; she restarted. “You usually can help me with everything!” He pointed out.

 Annabeth gave him a tightened smile. “I know. This is a first.”

 They were silent for a couple of minutes. Annabeth was probably thinking of everything she had to do to prepare for the Princesses and how it would add to her pre-existing workload; Percy was just whining like a baby about how his best friend couldn’t help him with this situation. A rogue part shouted to ignore all rules and make everyone agree for her to take over the queen duties for however long it would take for him to find a girl he liked. Percy couldn’t listen to that part of his head, no matter how much he wanted to. 

“Would you like to hear more about the plan? Or about the Princesses you’ll be meeting?” Annabeth asked gently. Percy nestled his face into her hair and whined. 

“No.” He said like a baby. 

He felt her head nod. “Alright. Do you wanna a blue cookie to feel better? And then go swimming?” She asked. Percy grinned. God, she knew him so well. Annabeth’s tinkling laughter shook into his ears. “I thought so.” She said with amusement in her voice. Percy pouted at her like a child; she laughed. God, she knew him so well. 

It was an hour later that Percy found himself surrounded by 3 of his top 5 favorite things. Annabeth, water and blue cookies. All that was missing was his mother and his sword, which he lovingly named Riptide. As a normal person does; name their sword. 

“I feel better already.” He commented with a smile on his face. He leaned his arms onto the floating Annabeth was laying on, careful not to tip it over; Ironically, Annabeth was not a fan of being in the water. 

“You’re a simple creature.” She teased, smirking behind her sunglasses. A thought rushed into his head that made him frown. 

“What is it?” She asked him quickly, reading the expression.

 Percy sighed. “Nothing, just… with the whole queen thing… it’s coming so soon. Ruling I mean. Sure I have 12 years or so but… it feels like it’s coming close. And honestly, I’m kinda scared.” He admitted. 

Annabeth put a counseling hand on his arm. “I know, the future is scary. Ruling, sure it’s big. But that’s because you haven’t done much with it just yet. We’re easing you in; our kingdom had the best power transfer of all the power kingdoms because we prepare you years and years in advance. By the time it comes, you won’t be scared. You’re not going to be alone. For once, you’re gonna have your future wife with you and she'll be learning the ropes too. And I’ll be here to hold you steady until you get there.” She said. It was supposed to be comforting; he was supposed to feel better now hearing that. But, it just made him sad and a little more nervous. 

“No.” Percy shook his head, the water flew off his dark locks. “Royal overseers only help till the monarch turns 25. I’ll still have up to 5 years to go without you; all alone.” He pointed out. Annabeth brushed a hand down his face softly, her face had a gentle smile on it. 

“You’re not gonna need me when you��re twenty-five. You’ll be ready. And you won’t be alone. You’ll have your queen. You’ll have learned enough to not need my help or my guidance or presence or anything.” She said.

 Percy frowned deeper, it felt foreign on his face. “But what if I want your help and presence and annoying nags?” Percy said. 

“You won’t.” She sounded so certain. It was as if Percy could just close his eyes and believe fully that once he was 25, he wouldn’t need his best friend’s help. But he did; he knew that. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you’ll have all of that from your queen.”

“But what about my best friend?” 

Annabeth raised a brow at him and smiled in an amused way. “Do you really think it will be easy to get rid of him? You’re stuck with me for life.”

 Percy smiled at that; normally he told her that so it was nice to hear it back. And of course, he didn’t mind being stuck with her for life. Sure she nagged at him every second of the day, out of love duh, was insanely organized and had a conniption whenever she walked into his room on a lazy day and was absolutely terrifying, but that was what made Annabeth his best friend.. Percy didn’t want to change a single thing about her; all those annoying things were just reasons to love her and her uniqueness.

“No but you won’t be my royal overseer.” He said with a sad sigh. 

He couldn’t imagine doing anything without Annabeth guiding him or at least standing by his side. Her grey eyes watched him seriously without a word; it was mildly intimidating but also comforting. A sharpened gaze your way was how Annabeth showed she was listening. 

In truth, Percy was growing frustrated, at all the rules he had to abide by and how he couldn’t just have his best friend in the entire world help. “Because you’ll have your queen. God how many times do I have to say this.” The blonde-haired girl said with a laugh. Percy tilted his head so his cheek rested on the floaty. He was not feeling very happy, to be totally upfront and honest. 

“I hate this. In 7 years, or maybe less. You’re no longer going to be able to help me like this. I’m gonna have to depend on someone else, someone I don’t even know the name of right now! I don’t want to do that. I wanna depend on you! I’ve already put my life in your hands multiple times and each and every time I did it with complete trust. How am I gonna put that kind trust into someone else? I’ll only know them for 6 or so years. And they have to control the kingdoms too? How can I trust someone that much if they aren’t you?” Percy groaned into the plastic. “You won’t even live in the castle anymore.” He said with a sinking feeling in his heart. There would no longer be sleepovers in each other's rooms or secret sneakouts to the roof of the castle to look at stars and talk about unimportant things. Royal overseers didn’t stay in the castle once the monarch was betrothed after all. 

“What will you do when you’re 25?”

“I’ll plan your wedding and then find a different job. I’m sure it’s not that hard to get hired when you’ve worked for the royal family.”

“Are you still going to be the godmother of my heirs?”

“No, that has to be a noble. You know that.”

“But you promised!”

“Yeah, when I was like 10. Before I had this job. Back when I was an homeless orphan.” She cringed at that last word. 

Percy took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly “I didn’t know any better or any of the rules. But I do now.” Percy sighed sadly; she squeezed his hand in response. 

A rare gentle smile made its way onto her face and it shone only for him. In total dorkiness, Percy liked to call it her Percy smile; she never smiled at anyone else that way. It was soft and loving and sweet and understanding and only for him. 

“You’re going to be fine. It will all work out. And you’re going to meet one of the Princesses and fall head over heels in love with her and you’ll trust her more than anyone in the world. Even more than me.” Annabeth looked at him evenly in the eyes. She looked so sure; he wasn’t. 

“You’re not going to need anyone but her, okay?” Percy couldn’t give a response without outright lying to her or telling her a truth she’d start a lecture over so he settled for nodding. Plus, he made a promise to himself to not lie to her.

“You’re going to be fine.” Annabeth said, gently pushing back his damp hair. Percy sighed and nodded. 

He hoped she’d be right.

He had a feeling that he'll always need her, despite what everyone was saying.

And he didn’t know if he wanted to be right or wrong in this situation. 

[chris-evans-indian-fanfic]

Across Seven Seas

Chapter 2

Description: This fanfiction series is set in the year 2022, after the horrid COVID-19 has finally come to an end. In this fanfiction, Chris Evans holidays with his family in India and meets Meera Shankar. The story explores their rollercoaster journey and raises a question, whether two people, from two contrasting backgrounds and cultures, can build their future together?

This series is Chris Evans x OFC with Chris Evans' family and friends having recurring appearances. Please find below a lot of Original Characters-

Meera Shankar - The female lead

Meera's Mother

Poppy - Meera's maternal grandmother

Rohan - Meera's elder brother who is 6 years older than her.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

FIND MORE CHAPTERS BY CLICKING ON MY BIO

This is a work of fiction. The names of the hotels and companies have been changed to avoid copyright issues. Meera Shankar and her family is based on the author and her kin. No offense is intended.

P.S- All the photographs used in the chapters are of the real locations mentioned. I clicked these photographs on my vacation.

I don’t consent to have any of my work published or featured on any third party app, website or translated. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission. In that case, please do share the link and let me know.

...

Chapter 2

Same day, 5:45pm - Dehradun Airport, India

The airplane cabin was lit with soft evening sunlight as the plane descended on the runway. Resting her head against the window, Meera tried her best to soak up the warmth. After collecting their bags, the family of four headed towards the taxi stand, looking for the hotel cab scheduled to pick them up from the airport.

Meera spotted the handheld sign 'SHANKARS' in the sea of drivers. Waving her hand, heads turned in their direction as she called out to the driver. "Meera at least try to be a little lady-like, let Rohan deal with the driver," urged her mother. "Seriously Ma? Deal with the driver? We just needed to get his attention and put our luggage in the car," said Meera, rolling her eyes. As the driver led them towards the cab, Rohan and Meera grabbed the luggage from the airport trolley. After the bags were kept safely in the trunk of the car, Meera returned the trolley to the stand. Her mother chided as she walked back, "What was the need to do that? There are workers who are hired to do this work." "Yes Ma but we used that trolley for our work, right? So we can keep it back in place as well. It makes life a little easier for the airport staff." "Why do you need to make their life easier? They get salary for their jobs." "Ma they stand on their feet for almost their entire shift. Even if a few people return their trolleys to the station, it can offer them some respite na?" Meera tried to reason, but her mother scoffed. "At least you can try to walk normally." Turning to look at her mother, Meera cocked an eyebrow, her expression saying "Really?"

It would be incorrect to describe Meera's walk as 'dainty'. Keeping her broad shoulders wide and her back straight, Meera held her head high while walking, controlling the swing of her hands by her side. She made it a point not to sway her hips but instead walked with her legs apart. Moreover, the attitude with which she walked always gave the impression that she is charging towards her target. With a height of 5ft 7", she often loomed over other women, her extra weight adding bulk to her persona.

Being the closest city to the hill station Mussoorie, Dehradun was a hub of activity. Alive with modern shopping centres, fancy restaurants, malls and a buzzing nightlife, the beauty of it all was lost on Meera. For her, it were the heritage sites in the city that piqued her interest. She was longing to explore places such as the Watch Tower built in the 1930s, a 50-year-old monastery and the Forest Research Institution, built in the 17th century that housed 3 museums. These places of cultural interest seemlessly merged themselves with the crowded city.

It was almost 7pm by the time they reached their hotel in the city. The plan was to rest overnight, then leave for the hill station early in the morning. While Mussoorie was just around 3 hours away, Meera knew it would take more time for them to reach their destination in the hills, with her motion sickness slowing them down on the winding hilly roads. She looked through the hotel room window, her inner nerd itching to visit the museums, walk amongst the city dwellers, learn more about their culture, their lifestyles. But alas, her family had other plans.

While her brother had started drinking alcohol the minute he entered his room, Poppy and Meera's mother were already on the bed, surfing through the TV channels. "Bala," Meera's mother called her, "Why are you standing near the window? Are you feeling unwell?" "Just looking outside the window Ma," she replied. "Why?" her mother pressed on, "You even took a long time in the bathroom. Are you okay?" With that, Meera turned around, visibly irritated, "Ma how many times have I told you it is creepy to keep track of my bathroom schedule? I HATE it when you do that!" "What is creepy in that? I am your mother. I have every right to know what are you doing, and when and where are you doing it." "No you don't!" exclaimed Meera, "You cannot keep a track of everything that I do Ma. I am 30 years old now and..." "29 years old," corrected her mother. "How does it matter?" continued Meera, "Stop nagging me all the time!" "But why are you looking out of the window? There's nothing to see," her mother insisted. "I am just looking out of the window because that's all we will get to do here AND in Mussoorie! Just sit and look. Nobody wants to go out, nobody wants to explore. Just sit in the comfortable chair in cold weather and look outside. That's all we do on EVERY vacation! That's all we ever do!" "You can also watch TV or maybe read a book," suggested Poppy. "Yes we spent thousands of rupees just to watch TV or read a book. Brilliant idea!" replied Meera sarcastically. "I can't believe I have 2 weeks to either look at mountains or at TV." "We will also go out Bala," her mother tried to reason with her. "Yes, Rohan will go out to buy alcohol from the local shops, he will then keep drinking like a fish and fall sick, which will cause you to worry. After he recovers, all of us will step outside once to see a handful of tourist attractions. And that's it. That's all the 'outings' I will have. Because you will never let me go out alone na. So I will be stuck at the hotel," concluded Meera, "This is why I wanted to go to a beach resort for our vacation. At least there would have been something to do at the beach." "I don't like beaches," said her mother. "I know," Meera sighed in resignation, turning back to look out of the window into the darkness.

6th September, 4:45am - Logan Airport, Boston, USA:

Chris had his eyes closed, trying to breathe through the anxiety which consumed him. He had been wrong in thinking that the paparazzi would not catch up with them if they caught an early plane. The swarm of reporters who were gathered outside the VIP entrance of the airport had been out for blood, desparate to capture a snap of the infamous Chris Evans. While regular photographers could have still been managed, the reporters with cameramen and mics certainly did not make it easier for him to walk through the gates of the airport. "People are now calling you the Disgraced Captain, how does that make you feel Chris?", "Do you want to share a message with your disappointed fans?", "When are you going to apologize to the public Chris?" His breathing became laboured as the reporters' questions started playing in his mind like a playlist on loop.

Scott sat besides him, rubbing his shoulders gently. Chris' condition was worrisome for the entire family. Chris had been unable to handle his downfall, and it had taken a toll on his mental, emotional and physical health. He only ever smiled and laughed with Dodger now, and even then, his eyes wore a distant look. No amount of therapy had helped his elder brother. Things started slipping further when Chris had completely stopped grooming himself. His hair and beard had outgrown his face, with only his nose and blue eyes visible. Chris had even started giving up on the gym, barely trying to maintain his muscular figure. Where rock-hard abs once dotted his torso, now a small flab of fat replaced it. Luckily though, his sweater hid the tiny gut well.

"Hey... Hey c'mon now, you know how harsh the media can be right? I am sure this will all blow over in a few weeks. Just take deep breaths. 🎶Just keep breathing, just keep breathing breathing🎶," Scott tried his best to hum, hoping to bring a smile on the hairy meatballs' face. But instead, he was greeted with teary eyes. "They are right, aren't they? I disappointed so many people. I lost so much Scott. I can't even begin to..." "This flight is about to take off," interrupted the airhostess, "Tie your seatbelts," she left with that curt instruction. When Scott turned to look at his brother again, Chris had angled his body towards the wall, already looking outside the window, at the first pale yellow signs of the rising sun. This is going to be a long flight, thought Scott.

Same day, 8pm - Dehradun Hotel, India

It was finally time for dinner. Wearing 2 jackets and a skull cap, Meera looked at herself in the mirror once before heading downstairs. She looked comical. Her overweight body looking larger with the bomber jacket, the skull cap covering most of her head, her black hair and her ears. Her glasses snuggly resting on her nose and her hands in the pockets of the thick pants she wore. She was not sure of the material. But hey, those pants kept her warm and better yet, they came with pockets! If only we would have gone to a warmer location, thought Meera ruefully, I could have worn my dresses. At least I would have still looked like a woman. A dry, homeless laugh escaped her lips. Ma would sacrifice her limbs to get me to behave like a woman.

This was going to be a cold and long vacation, and Meera was not looking forward to it.

[temilyrights]

the case of us (chapter five)

Jack Sloane x Reader

Word Count: 2566

A/N: Shorter chapter this time but I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome :)

Read on AO3

Chapter Four  Chapter Six

You barely contain your yawn as you make your way into the diner. Your face lighting up when you see Jack, already waiting in a booth, and you quickly make your way over. “Sorry, I’m late!” You slide into the seat opposite the blonde, greedily taking a sip of the coffee she pushes towards you. 

“Not a problem, I ordered your usual.” Jack’s smile is a little sheepish like she’s not sure if she’s overstepped but you just flash her a grateful smile and the unease vanishes from her expression.  You sigh as you lean back in the booth, feeling your body relax. “How’s your house guest?” 

You can’t control your groan at that and Jack laughs, a smirk pulling at her lips. “That well, huh?” 

Your younger brother, James, has been staying with you recently after getting kicked out of his old apartment. “He’s the reason I’m late! He kept me up till 2 am shouting at his Xbox.” You whine. “Jack! He doesn’t do anything. I don’t think I’ve seen him do a single chore, he orders take out every night instead of cooking. I swear he turned 15 and decided to just stop ageing!” Jack tries to be sympathetic but there’s still humour in her eyes and you shoot her a glare which just causes her to actually start laughing. 

“You’ve got to find a way to make him uncomfortable, motivate him to want his own place again. He’s too comfortable.” 

You release a withering sigh, dropping your head to the table dramatically. “But how?” The whine is back in your voice again and Jack playfully rolls her eyes at you. 

“He’s your brother.”

You sigh again,  lifting your head to rest in your hand as you look at Jack. A sly smirk covers your face and you can see Jack’s growing unease. “Jackkkkk” You smile sweetly. The blonde just looks at you, crossing her arms. “You’re the profiler… can’t you, I don’t know, meet him, play some mind tricks?” 

“Mind tricks?” Jack smirks, rolling her eyes. “Seriously is that what you think I do?” You’d think you’d offended her if you didn’t notice the humour in her eyes.

“Please, Jack. I need the man child out of my apartment, I want to be able to come home to a clean and quiet place that doesn’t stink of men and greasy take-out food.” Jack doesn’t say anything and you clasp your hands together on the table, trying your best at ‘puppy dog eyes’. “Please! I’m begging, I’ll do anything!” 

“Anything huh?” Her smirk turns devilish, a sparkle in her eye that makes you gulp. You don’t move though, even as a slight blush tinges your cheeks. Jack releases an amused chuckle, tapping your hands to get you to sit back. “Sure. I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you” You grin, breathing a sigh of relief “After work tonight?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Jack’s eyes are twinkling and it’s not until the waitress arrives with your food that her eyes leave yours. You gulp trying to ignore the weird feeling that has settled in your stomach. 

---

Breakfast is cut short by a call from Gibbs about a case, and you quickly shovel the last of your scrambled eggs into your mouth, shooting an apologetic smile at Jack. You try to drop a couple of bills on the table to pay but Jack waves you off and you don’t have the time to fight her as you hurry out the diner and into your car. 

The victim is Petty Officer William Shore. His body is found on a jogging route where he was shot in the back. There’s not much evidence on the crime scene, only his phone that lays a few feet away from him. You get the statement from the woman who found him, she’d been completing an early morning jog but had no idea who the man was and hadn’t seen him before so the crime scene is wrapped up pretty quickly and before you know it you’re heading to the Navy Yard. 

Gibbs and Ellie go straight to the conference room to interview the victim’s wife and you head to your desk and begin going through the man’s credit card history. 

It’s pretty clean although there’s a suspicious amount of transactions in a neighbourhood that, as far as you know, he doesn’t have any connection too. When Gibbs and Ellie return they’re convinced it isn’t the wife, she’s distraught over the whole incident. Torres informs you all about the frequent number of phone calls over the past six months to a woman called Sarah Dredger. She lives in the same neighbourhood as where your transactions are from.

Gibbs sends you and Torres to collect her and when you knock on her apartment door you’re surprised to find the woman already in tears. You have to stop yourself from laughing at Torres’ eye-roll as he puts the woman into the back of the car.

You get into interrogation and you don’t have to say anything for her to start confessing. It was a story you’d heard thousands of times before, she’d been having an affair with William and he’d promised to leave his wife for her but then, last night, he’d ended their affair over the phone. He ran the same jogging route every morning so she knew where he’d be, she tried to make him reconsider but he wouldn’t listen to her and started to continue to jog. She shot him and dumped the gun in the trash bins outside her home. 

“Well, that was the easiest case of the century.” You roll your eyes, watching as the agents take Sarah away. Jack chuckles from behind you, a smirk on her face. You turn slightly, bumping your shoulder against hers “Redo of breakfast sometime this week?” 

A bright smile fills her face. “It’s a date.” 

---

The day goes by pretty quickly and before you know it Jack’s in the bullpen, jacket on and bag hanging off her shoulder. “Ready to go?” She asks, stopping by your desk. 

You switch off your computer, standing up and sliding your own bag on. “Let’s do this!” The determination is clear in your face and Jack rolls her eyes playfully at you. 

“Hot date?” Nick comments as you begin to follow Jack, you don’t falter though, just grab the rubber band ball off of Ellie’s desk before turning and chucking it at him. Ellie’s and Tim’s laughter follows you out of the room as Torres nearly falls from his chair in the effort to avoid it. When you load onto the lift Jack’s grinning at you and you both break out into laughter. 

----

“James, I’m home!” You call when you open your front door. There’s no answer and you roll your eyes, kicking your shoes off and dumping your bag on the couch as you pass it. Jack does the same, as well as shimmying out of her jacket and placing it nicely on the back of your couch. “Drink?” 

“Sure.” She follows you as you make your way into the kitchen.

“Coffee ok?” 

“Yeah, that’s great.” Jack takes a seat at the breakfast counter as you move around your small kitchen and make the drinks. You’re just tipping the liquid into mugs when you hear the guest bedroom door open. 

“Is that coffee I smell-” Your brother halts, stopping in the entrance of your kitchen when he notices Jack. You don’t bother hiding the smirk that tugs as his mouth drops open in surprise.

“James, right? I’m Special Agent Jacqueline Sloane but call my Jack.” Jack extends her hand and your brother accepts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he quickly recovers from his surprise. 

You focus on finishing the coffee’s, putting Jack’s mug in front of her along with your pot of sugar. You go to hand your brother his and barely contain yourself from throwing an apple at his head when you notice his eyes trail over the blonde. You clear your throat, your eyes dark with danger as you hand the coffee over. When you turn back to look at Jack she’s smirking. 

“So James, are you enjoying staying with Y/N?” Your brother moves to sit on the stool next to her.

“Yeah, it’s like being kids again, she spends the whole time nagging me to do stuff and I respond by not doing it. All that’s missing is when she inevitably would call mum.” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t need to nag you if you actually did anything.” You stick out your tongue at him, completely ignoring the humour you see dancing in Jack’s eyes at your childish action. “And I see you didn’t take out the trash as I asked you too.”

“I only got home like 20 minutes before you. I do have a job too!” 

“But you also didn’t leave for at least an hour after I did!” You didn’t really know exactly what your brother did, you just knew it involved a lot of maths and it was also a 9-5 job. So he always left later than you and arrived home before you but still managed to do nothing to help. 

James arches his eyebrow at you with a smirk on his face and you know whatever he says next you aren’t going to like. “So, Jack, has Y/N ever told you about the time she got food poisoning as a kid and threw up all over the waitresses shoes.” 

“I swear to god, I’m going to kill you.” You glare at your brother, trying to stop the blush from rushing up your face as Jack starts laughing sympathetically. 

“She didn’t! Have you got any other stories?” 

“Jack!” You whine “You’re meant to be on my side!” 

Jack smirks, looking away from you and back to James. “So, what other stories?” 

----

“So...I’ve got an idea. I’m just not sure you’re going to like it.” 

“Jack, I’ll honestly do anything!” You can hear your brothers’ footsteps coming closer and Jack quickly makes her way around the counter, stopping in front of you. 

“Trust me, ok?” 

“Of course.” Jack smiles and then shocks you by grabbing your waist and pushing you back into the counter. Your eyes widen in surprise but you don’t say anything just grip hold of the surface behind you.

Your breath hitches as she steps closer, her hands resting on the counter either side of you and her leg slotting lightly in between yours. “Ok, he’s coming.” She whispers, your eyes fall to her lips and you try to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. Jack’s mouth begins to dip lower, hovering centimetres away from yours and you can’t breathe as your heart pounds in your chest. 

“So, Jack-” James enters the room and Jack lingers just long enough to make sure he’s taken in the scene before stepping away. Your hands are digging into the counter behind you and it takes you a moment to catch your breath before you turn around, you know your face is scarlet, but that doesn’t stop your smirk when you notice the look of horror on your brother's face. “God, I need to get my own place.” Your brother quickly backs out of the room and Jack turns to face you a wide grin on her face. 

You high five, your thumping heart  finally starting to calm down again and you clear your throat, “How did you know that would work?” 

“No one wants to see a member of their family in a position like that.” You laugh but then seconds later scrunch up your face in disgust when an image of your brother being in the same position pops into your head. You shiver and humour dances through Jack’s eyes. 

“Thank you. Really. I owe you one.”

“No problem, It was fun.” That sparkles back in her eye as she smirks and you quickly look away. She excuses herself not long after that and after a quick dinner, watching a couple of episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and a shower you head to bed. And if you happen to dream about Jack’s mouth hovering near yours and the feeling of her leg slotted between yours, well it was the most action you’d gotten in months so really it didn’t mean anything.

----

“You are an angel! James has found his own place!” You barely stop yourself from jumping in joy as you throw open Jack’s office door. You don’t notice her immediately and it’s not until you turn around that you see her quickly getting up from the chair in the corner of her office, wiping at her eyes. 

The glee instantly disappears from your face as you quickly shut her office door. “I’m sorry for barging in...Are you okay?” 

Jack groans, dropping back into the chair and holding her head in her hands. You move over sitting on the floor in front of her and lean up to rub soothing circles on her knee. “Hey, what has happened?” 

Jack’s eyes slowly come up to meet yours and you can see the unshed tears in her eyes. She releases a self-deprecating laugh and huffs a breath. “Safwan Anshiri.”

“One of the Wingo's, right?”

Jack’s lips tip up into a barely-there smile. “It’s his birthday today and It’s just bringing a lot of stuff back up.” You move your hand from her knee up to squeeze one of her hands. 

“Tell me about him.” 

Jack blows out a breath, looking up to the ceiling and you pull your hand away, giving her the space to collect her thoughts. “He couldn’t play poker.” Jack laughs. “He thought he was so good, but the first time I played him I completely thrashed his arse.”

“Oh, so kind of like that time at Gibbs’ when I thrashed your arse.” 

“That was totally a one-off!” Jack scrunches up her nose at you and you can’t contain the wide smile that crosses your face and the playful eye roll you shoot her. “Anyway, we had a short fling but he was a good friend. He was great at keeping everyone’s morale up and could pretty much always make me laugh.” Tears have started to trail down Jack’s face as she smiles. 

“He sounds like a pretty amazing guy.” 

“Yeah, he was.” 

Jack continues to tell you her favourite stories about him and you sit quietly watching the emotions play over her face as you take in every detail. It isn’t until nearly 45 minutes later when your phone rings, Tim telling you they’ve got a lead and need you back, that you finally get off the floor. 

She follows you to the door. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. I mean it.” You don’t overthink it as you pull the woman into a hug, she lets out a slight “oh” in surprise but doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around your shoulders. You pull away. “I should get going before Gibbs gets impatient.”

Jack laughs. “Don’t worry I’m sure he’s already annoyed you didn’t materialise in front of him.” As if to prove her point your phone starts ringing and you roll your eyes, showing the phone to Jack as the caller ID flashes. She smirks. “See, nothing if not predictable.” 

“Bye.” You mouth to the blonde, as you make your way out of her office and answer the phone. “I’m just coming now.” 

[curiosity-killed]

a bow for the bad decisions

canon-divergent AU from ep. 24 (on ao3)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16 | part 17 | part 18

“Take a-Yuan and go get food,” Wen Qing orders, plucking up his hand and pushing the money pouch into it. “Clear your head.” There’s a moment where he’s still half in that shade-thin realm, fingers still interlaced with black threads, and her voice comes from too far away and too close at once. Disoriented, he shakes his head and pulls back from her touch. “I— what? No, I’m in the middle of—” he interjects “Your control is getting worse,” she says evenly. “Leave the seal and get some fresh air.” She raises a hand, fixing him with a warning look, and he subsides with a twist of irritation. Underneath her cool disapproval, there’s genuine worry, and his stomach coils at the sight of it. He looks away. “It’s not like I can just stop trying,” he protests, sullen. He has to do this, has to figure it out. There will come a day when he can’t control the Seal anymore, and it has to be destroyed before that day dawns.

“You can take breaks,” she retorts. “You’re not going to get anywhere by wearing yourself to the bone, Wei Wuxian.”

He rubs the knuckle of his thumb against his forehead in frustration. It would be easier to brush her off if she weren’t right, if she didn’t insist on checking up on him every two days, dragging him away from projects, making him eat and sleep and meditate. “I don’t know why you bother anyway,” he mutters. “Because I’m not letting you die for my family,” she snaps. Silence settles like a qin string snapping. He lowers his hand slowly to his lap, head still bowed. He can’t bring himself to lift his gaze, not when he hears her give a shuddering exhale. “Anyway, you’d be an intolerable ghost,” she spits, as if her voice isn’t thick and wet. “You’d just — just keep on working on your projects because you wouldn’t need to sleep or eat anymore and you’d teach a-Yuan terrible habits.” “Hey, he’s been trying to meditate along with me,” he protests weakly. It’s meant to be an apology, a little reassurance. When he looks up to her, there are tears along her waterline, and her jaw is shifted to one side as if to hold them back. Her arms are crossed, hands pinned tight against her ribs. His shoulders slump. He’s trying. He is. He lets a-Yuan drag him out into the sunlight, and he makes sure to talk to the Wen remnants sometimes. He eats most days and he meditates every day even if he can’t sleep. He’s doing everything Wen Qing tells him to try to keep it at bay. He doesn’t want to die. It’s just — it’s just that he’s so tired. He’s exhausted in a way sleep can’t fix, worn down to the thinnest threads. They know how this ends. Either he keeps using the Seal and it slowly devours him from within, gnawing away his soul and self until he is the demon they whispered about in the war, or he destroys it and the resentment holding his shattered body together snaps with it, tearing him apart. There’s no way he walks away from this. He knew the deal he made when he was first dropped in here, when he gave himself over to the yin iron sword so that he could last long enough to protect his family, to fulfill his promise to Madam Yu. He’s tired of fighting the inevitable. “Alright,” he says, sighs. “I’ll take a-Yuan to town.” “Good,” she says stiffly. “Take some responsibility for your son.” Laughing softly, he rubs the back of his neck as he unfolds himself and stands. He wants to apologize, wants to make up for the hurt clear in her tight shoulders, but he doesn’t know what he’d even be apologizing for. For the Seal? For saving his own life in a way that left him irrevocably damned? He doesn’t regret any of it and she wouldn’t accept an apology for it anyway. He bounces the money pouch in his palm once and gives her a grin instead. It works well enough; she rolls her eyes and follows him out of the cave. A-Yuan’s easy to spot and easier to swing up onto his hip, all delighted cheers. He clings to Wei Wuxian’s robe, babbling about how his friend lion is having a dispute with the neighboring frogs. Wei Wuxian listens attentively, raising his eyebrows in appropriate surprise at the frogs’ dastardly stubbornness and humming thoughtfully when a-Yuan decides his lion should play Chenqing to persuade them. At this point, he’s still a little surprised that Chenqing doesn’t have any scars from a-Yuan’s affections. There are more wards and spells inlaid in the flute than Wei Wuxian has placed on anything else, but he’s pretty sure he didn’t write any against toddler teeth back when he was here the first time. She doesn’t seem to mind the abuse, as far as he can tell. It’s not like she can speak or anything, but she purrs in something like amusement whenever he reaches out while a-Yuan’s fiddling with her. He’d been worried, at first, that the resentment would hurt the kid, but so far as he can tell, the dizi is almost perfectly inert in a-Yuan’s hands. He’s already decided to leave Suibian to him, but he’s not sure about Chenqing yet. He’s never had a chance to see if spiritual energy can be used with her, and he doesn’t want to curse a-Yuan with demonic cultivation instead. The market’s busy today, bustling with crowds picking up food and running errands. “Stay with Xian-gege, okay?” he tells a-Yuan, firm. “Hold onto me.” A-Yuan nods solemnly, dark eyes big in his face. Wei Wuxian grins and squeezes his cheek, helpless. He’s just too cute, like a hibiscus unfurling in the ash. He deserves better than this, better than the brittle bone-shard life they’re carving here. Even if the Nie sect agrees to take in the Wens, there’s no chance a-Yuan will be allowed to train in cultivation the way he deserves. He’s nagging a vendor’s prices down when he realizes he can’t feel a-Yuan’s hand tugging on his robes. Yunmeng Jiang has been quietly sending an allowance to help support their fragile settlement, which Wen Qing doles out. It’s for the best; Wei Wuxian has never really gotten used to having money in the first place, much less saving it. He’d be offended by the payments if it weren’t so necessary and if they weren’t always accompanied by notes and small packages from shijie. He’d sacrifice a lot more than his pride to hear from shijie, and there’s always some little gift tucked in with her letters: a toy for a-Yuan, a recipe to try with their first crop of radishes, once, a ribbon of his she’d found between the pages of a book, the end still marked with a haphazardly embroidered lotus she’d sewn when they were children. A jolt of panic runs through him now when he realizes there’s no small hand clinging to his skirts, and after a quick glance toward the road shows no one, he darts further into the market. A-Yuan’s small but quick. His chubby little legs send him darting around the settlement fast enough to leave Wei Wuxian short of breath. He could be anywhere in the market — or if someone saw him and scooped him up or— He stops short. Laughter bubbles up in him, catching behind his teeth and he presses his fist to his lips to stifle it. Lan Zhan looks like beryl carved and brought to life through a craftsman’s adoration; his hair hangs in a long sheet down his straight shoulders and the blue of his robes echoes the hazy summer sky. He looks beautiful and ethereal and absolutely, utterly lost. Through the small crowd gathering, he can spot the top of a-Yuan’s head pressed into Lan Zhan’s shin, his tiny hand clinging to Lan Zhan’s skirts. He wishes he could paint it, if only to prove that it happened. Looking at them, the laughter softens into a kind of fondness that nestles so deep in his chest it pangs. The two of them might be his favorite people in the world. The crowd’s pressing closer, though, and even if Wei Wuxian couldn’t see the minute tightening of Lan Zhan’s shoulders, he’d know it was too much. He bulls through, shooing off the spectators and freeing up the space around them. Lan Zhan turns to him as if being rescued, his eyes widening slightly and tension easing out of his face. “Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian greets. Delight floods him, fills him, buoys him up on a river of light. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says before pausing, looking to the top of a-Yuan’s head, still pressed into his leg. “This child—” “Is my son!” Wei Wuxian chirps, grinning as he pats his chest. “I birthed him myself.” For a moment, he can see the doubt, the almost-belief, creep into Lan Zhan’s expression, and he laughs aloud. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be around Lan Zhan when they weren’t fighting, to be held in the honey-warmth of his regard. “Right, Lan Zhan,” he says, adopting as much of a scolding tone as he can around his own grin, “what did you do? Why is a-Yuan crying?” “I didn’t do anything,” Lan Zhan protests, brow pinching slightly. For all that Wei Wuxian has seen Lan Zhan cut through swathes of spirits and soldiers, for all that he’s argued with him about the salvage of his own soul, he’s still so easy to tease. The little shifts of his expression, the worry that slips into his gold eyes — they’re so different from the fifteen year olds who first crossed swords, but this core remains familiar. “I see. Lan Zhan, as pretty as you are, a-Yuan doesn’t know you like I do,” he says. “He can’t tell the difference when you’re angry or happy, so of course he’s going to cry.” Lan Zhan listens with all the seriousness he’d give to a proper lesson, and Wei Wuxian wonders a little if he really hasn’t been around children Yuan’s age before. Surely, as First Disciple, he’s worked with juniors of all ages — but, he supposes, even the Lan Sect isn’t so grim as to start children at age four. “Lan Zhan, watch,” he says, crouching down to a-Yuan’s height. There’s a toy vendor across from them who’s already spotted their trio, and Wei Wuxian eyes him a moment in thought. If Lan Zhan really hasn’t been around little kids enough to realize how quickly they can be brought to tears, then he probably doesn’t know how quickly they can be cheered, either. Smiling a little at his plan, he leads a-Yuan over to the vendor and lets him see the toy. It’s a little grass butterfly, carefully woven and common to any small market. Wei Wuxian is almost sure he had one of them as a child, too, though that’s built more on probability than any actual memory. A-Yuan cheers up at the butterfly waving around his head, tears drying, and Lan Zhan stands behind him, watching with all his careful consideration. “Here, sir,” Wei Wuxian says, passing back the toy as he stands. “Come on!” A-Yuan’s a good kid and knows better than to complain about not getting his way, but— “Wei Ying. Why didn’t you buy it for him?” He doesn’t smile because that would ruin it, but he raises his eyebrows in teasing question. “Why should I?” he replies. “You asked if he wanted it,” Lan Zhan objects. “Doesn’t that mean you’re going to buy it?” “Asking is asking, buying is buying,” Wei Wuxian retorts. “Who said you have to buy it once you ask?” Lan Zhan’s gaze dips down, chin lowering, as a shallow furrow creases his brows. He swallows before looking to a-Yuan. “Which one would you like?” he asks, attempting a gentler tone. “Among those, which one do you want?”  Looking up at him with wide eyes, a-Yuan hesitates before pointing out the butterfly. Lan Zhan gives a solemn nod, and Wei Wuxian can no longer suppress the grin that breaks across his face. His chest feels as if it’s breaking with reckless happiness, silly and unfounded. He feels young for the first time in years, for the first since— Well. Before. Lan Zhan hasn’t once mentioned healing music or purifying or returning to the orthodox path, and they’ve been around each other for less than a shi but still, it’s a new record. He could live in this moment, he thinks; a-Yuan babbling happily and flitting about with his new toys and Lan Zhan a little unsure but steady, here, at his side. “Aiya who would’ve thought you’d be the father who spoils his son while I’m the stern one,” he teases, nudging Lan Zhan with his elbow. “Certainly not Lan-laoxiansheng.” “Mn,” Lan Zhan hums in that way he does when he can’t argue but doesn’t really want to agree. Grinning, Wei Wuxian gives himself a moment to just — take this in. He hadn’t really thought he’d see Lan Zhan again after that night in Qiongqi Pass, or if he did, it would be at his death and he would close his eyes and accept Bichen’s kiss. “Hey Lan Zhan, why don’t you leave your night hunt and come have a meal with us instead?” he says on a whim. “My treat.” He hesitates, but his gaze flickers over Wei Wuxian’s face rather than holding steady and firm. Wei Wuxian grins, already tasting victory. “Come on, it’s been so long,” he wheedles. “Share a meal with your old friend.” He’s won even before Lan Zhan dips his head in acceptance, and that heady rush of delight carries him through the afternoon. Chattering through lunch almost reminds him of their days in the Cloud Recesses’ library pavilion, but there’s no irritation in Lan Zhan’s expression this time; he listens attentively, gaze steady on Wei Wuxian, and gives quiet affirmation when Wei Wuxian asks if shijie’s wedding was as perfect as she said. He lets a-Yuan clamber into his lap, holding him steady with one hand, and Wei Wuxian feels his heart stutter and squeeze in his chest. Oh, he thinks a little distantly. Oh he likes this. He wants this. The three of them sitting in the dust-mote sunlight around the table, a-Yuan cheerfully flitting his toy around while Lan Zhan inclines his head to better listen to his babbling and glances up every now and then to meet Wei Wuxian’s gaze. Leaning on his fist, Wei Wuxian drinks in the sight and lets it fill some cracked cavity in his chest. If resentment could be tamed with contentment, he thinks he’d be healed just by lingering in this sun-soft afternoon. Even when the signal talisman lights up a warning and they run to the mountain, that delight can’t be tainted. They work together so readily, so easily, as if their souls trained side by side in the eternity before this life. Lan Zhan takes a-Yuan from his arms so that he can work the spells needed to subdue the resentment wreaking havoc through their little home, and he listens when Wei Wuxian directs him on calming Wen Ning. It’s a little strange, this trust. He lost it so long ago it seems and yet here Lan Zhan is, still reaching out. His stomach does a funny flip and he sets the thought firmly to one side. “Lan Zhan,” he says, and lets himself enjoy the way Lan Zhan’s gaze swings unerringly to him, “now that you’re here, why don’t you pay a visit?”

[calpalirwin]

Choices

Summary: Ashton Irwin thought he had everything he needed in life in the form of his daughter. Funny the difference a choice can make.

A/N: Be sure to catch up on the first two chapters!

Content: Nothing too crazy/out of the norm. Some cute as fuck dad!Ash. Also guest appearance by Luke and Mike!

Word Count: 4.5K

And away, and away we go!

Chapter 3

My alarm went off shrilly at 7 am. I fumbled to shut off the incessant beeping as I opened my eyes. I yawned and stretched out my arms. It was then I became apparent of Nic asleep in my bed. I smiled at the memory of the night we had shared. Her giggles echoed in my mind as I recalled her slipping into one of my shirts and beckoning me to bed with her finger. I recalled the many kisses I stole as we hid under the covers. I remembered how she felt, sleeping beside me as if she had done it her whole life. I reached over and kissed her, “Nic, wake up.” I kissed a path from her shoulder, up her neck, and to her lips. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” I murmured between kisses.

“Mmm,” she moaned, “Shh, Ash, I’m sleeping,” she smiled at me, opening her eyes a little.

“It’s seven… I gotta get up.”

“Why?”

“Lauren is gonna be here any second with Cass so I can get her ready for daycare,” I told her, rolling out of bed.

She reached over and pulled me down, before climbing on top of me and kissing my face repeatedly. “Just. Five. More. Minutes. Please?” she asked me between kisses.

I wrapped my arms around her and sat up with her in my lap. “If they even give me five minutes,” I told her.

“Guess we better get as much time as we can,” she grinned, sexily.

I rolled her over, pinning her between me and the bed. “God, you’re sexy,” I growled. I kissed her fiercely before pulling back and straining my ear. “Shh,” I whispered, pressing a finger to my lips, rolling off of Nic. “Do you hear that?” I asked, still whispering as I heard the front door creak open and Cassidy’s footsteps pitter-patter across the apartment. “Incoming,” I warned, seconds before Cassidy came crashing into my bed.

“Daddy!” she shrieked like she did every morning.

I threw the covers over my head and shouted playfully, “No! Not the Cass Monster! Aaaahhh!” Then I threw the covers off me and enveloped Cassidy in them who erupted in a series of giggles. I pulled her into my lap and uncovered her head. “Were you good for Auntie Lauren?” I asked.

Cassidy nodded, her dirty blonde curls bouncing. Then, “Daddy, did you have a sleepover?”

“I did. Her name is Nic. Do you want to say hi?”

Another nod, then, “Hi, Nic!”

“Hi, Cassidy,” Nic smiled sweetly.

“She’s pretty, Daddy,” Cassidy told me.

I laughed, “Yes, very pretty. Alright, you ready for breakfast?”

“Mhm!”

“Alright, go say goodbye to Auntie Lauren, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

She skipped out of the room. Lauren poked her head in, “Hey, As- shit, I didn’t know you had company. I could’ve taken Cass.”

“It’s fine, Lauren,” I said getting out of bed. “This is Nic. Nic, that’s my sister, Lauren. The little one was Cass.”

“Hi,” Nic said, getting up herself.

Lauren nodded a hello, then, “I’m gonna say bye to Cass,” before excusing herself.

“Sorry,” I said to Nic, pulling a shirt over my head.

 “It’s fine, Ash,” she said, kissing me. “I should probably go get ready for work. I’ll see you later?”

I nodded, “I’ll be home at about 5 if you wanted to join us for dinner. I’m not much of a cook though, so fair warning.”

She smiled. “I can be over at like 5:30?”

“That works,” I smiled back. I watched as she disappeared, waiting to hear her leave, before I went to the kitchen. I went about my morning routine feeling better than I had in a long while. For the first time in a long while, I had something to look forward to; someone to come home to that didn’t need bedtime stories and monster-checking.

“You seem perkier than usual,” Mike, the captain, noted as I came in whistling.

“Just in a good mood,” I said, clocking in for the day.

“So, who’s the girl?” Luke, my partner, asked.

“Who said there was a girl?”

“Because, I’ve never seen you look this happy. I’ve also never seen you with a girl. So, it’s gotta be a girl, right? Oh, tell me it’s a girl!”

“It’s a girl,” I laughed.

“Ha!” Luke cheered. “Mikey-boy, that’s twenty big ones! Pay up! Way to go, Irwin!”

“Why does he owe you twenty b- Wait, did you 2 seriously have a bet that I was gay?! I literally have a kid.” Any other day, I might have been offended, but I was cruising on the highest of highs.

“Hey,” Luke defended. “I knew you weren’t gay. Just a busy little worker bee, huh, Ashy?” he teased.

“You know what? I ain’t even mad. Cuz I woke up next to the hottest girl. Life doesn’t get better than that.”

“Ash,” Mike said, turning serious for a minute. “Marry this girl.”

“I barely know the girl, Mikey,” I laughed nervously.

“I know. But marry her. Any girl that’s got you feeling this good is a keeper. I’m telling ya.”

“I still think I’ll give it a minute before I start getting down on a knee,” I joked, quickly burying the memory of the last time I’d been down on one knee. Taylor had no right to my mind today. Today, my mind was all on Nic.

I walked through the door of my apartment, feeling both more exhausted than I’d ever felt and also still better than my old best days. I quickly tried to clean up the apartment a bit while Cassidy played. I had just sat down on the couch when Nic knocked on my door. “Hey, c’mon in,” I greeted, kissing her cheek.

“Hey, how was work?” she asked, making herself comfortable on my couch.

“Good,” I said, sitting down next to her. “How was your day?”

“Long,” she sighed, leaning into me. “Glad to be done.”

“Me too,” I smiled at her. “Are you hungry?”

“I am!” Cassidy piped up, causing both Nic and me to laugh.

Nic stayed after dinner, throwing herself into a wild activity Cassidy dreamed up, the two chatting away until I told Cassidy it was time for her bath. I had Cassidy pick up her toys while I ran her bath. “You can stay if you want, but if you have stuff you gotta do, that’s…”

Nic half-smiled. “I should probably get going. But, I’ll see you…?”

“You can come by tomorrow again if you like. But, I gotta warn you, this is pretty much it,” I told her motioning around at everything. “This is my life.”

“I like your life, Ash,” she said, smiling softly. “I’ll see you and Cass tomorrow.” She kissed me before letting herself out.

“I like her, Daddy,” Cassidy said.

“I like her, too,” I said, picking her up.

I got Cassidy ready for bed and went to bed myself with Nic’s memory burned in my mind. I told myself that I really liked Nic and that I’d be smarter this time around; that I would savour every moment I held her in my arms, or got to kiss her lips. I tried to push the nagging thoughts that this could only end 1 of 2 ways, and that 1 of those ways could very well destroy me.

~~~

For the next few weeks, Nic slowly made her way into mine and Cassidy's lives. Every night the 3 of us sat around my kitchen table eating and laughing. Some nights she stayed helped me put Cassidy to bed, then spent the night tangled up in the sheets with me. Other nights she excused herself early so I could have 1-on-1 time with Cassidy. Nic and I took things slow, not wanting to rush anything in our relationship with each other. But, when the 1-month mark came and went- which was when every other girl had left- and Nic stayed, I started to rethink the seriousness of our relationship. I decided it was time to take Nic out on a real date so we could discuss what we both wanted out of this relationship, or if we even wanted one.

I talked over the details with Lauren, who eagerly agreed to pick Cassidy up from daycare and watch her overnight for me. So after work on Friday, instead of rushing to pick up Cassidy from daycare, I called Nic.

“Hey, Ash,” she answered after the first ring. “I just got home. I’ll be over in a few?”

“Uh, I was actually wondering if you wanted to go out? Like on a real date?”

“Real date, huh?”

“Yeah. Getting dressed up, I bring you flowers, we go eat a fancy dinner, the whole thing.”

She giggled and I pictured her cheeks flushing red. “Okay, that sounds like fun.”

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I’ll see you at 7. Ash?”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“I just wanna do something nice for a change,” I told her. In truth, I felt good about my relationship with Nic. She didn’t get annoyed with staying in every night or having Cassidy ruin the chance to sleep in on the weekends. In fact, she adored Cassidy, and Cassidy adored her right back. There was also no denying the way she made me feel, or the fact that we were both clearly attracted to each other. And after the past few weeks of her either being in my arms or on my mind, it was probably time to figure out what we were to each other, even if I didn’t like the answer.

I went out to get my truck washed and pick up some flowers before I came home and showered. I went through my closet, pulling jackets and work clothes aside to find my dress shirts and slacks. I laid the clothes on my bed, ready to get changed, but I ran a hand under my chin first. I ran to the bathroom and looked at my face in the mirror. I tilted my head at different angles, trying to decide if I needed to clean up my beard or not. I decided against it, preferring not to risk shaving it all off if I screwed up. I changed and took a good long look in the mirror. Without meaning to, my mind drifted to the last time I had gotten this dressed up- the way my heart pounded in my chest and the weight of that little box in my pocket. I quickly shook away the thought. That wasn’t the last time I got dressed up, I told myself. Yeah, but it was the last time it mattered. “This isn’t like that, though,” I spoke aloud to no one. Isn’t it, though? My mind answered back. “I don’t have time for this,” I said angrily. “Nic isn’t Taylor. And more than that, I don't want Taylor. I want Nic.” Hey, these are your thoughts, Ash.

I shook my head again. “Nic,” I repeated, smiling at the sound of her name. “I want Nic.” With a last look in the mirror, I headed for the door, grabbing the flowers on my way out. I made my way across the hall and knocked on her door. One of her roommates opened the door. “Hey, is Nic ready?”

“Oh, hey, Ash. C’mon in. Nic’s just finishing up.”

I took a seat on their couch, “So, how’s everything going?” I asked, trying to make conversation.

“We’re good, Ash. You and Nic seem to be getting serious.”

“I hope so. I really like her.”

“She really likes you, too.”

“Kayla!” Nic scolded, coming into the room. Her dress accentuated every bit of curve she had.

“Wow… you look… wow…” I said, getting up off the couch. “Uh, these are for you.” I gave her the small bouquet of flowers.

She took the flowers and breathed them in. “Thank you,” she said. Then she disappeared down the hall to put them away. “Ready?” she asked when she came back into the living room.

“Let’s go,” I said, taking her hand. “You look really amazing, by the way,” I told her again as we walked down to my truck.

“Thanks. You clean up good yourself.”

“I try.” I held the door for the truck open for her and watched as she slid in.

“You washed your truck, too?” she asked when I climbed in the driver's seat.

“Yeah, it was time.” I pulled out of the parking structure and onto the road.

“Really? When’s the last time you washed your truck?”

“Uh… a while.”

She raised her eyebrows.

I shrugged and half-smiled. “The rain does a good enough job.”

“So you went through the trouble of washing it for me?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I meant no such thing. There’s something flattering about a boy putting in a little effort to impress the girl.”

“And are you impressed?”

“Time will tell.”

I clutched at my chest jokingly. “Ouch…”

She laughed, “Well, the night’s just beginning.”

“Oh, you’ll be impressed,” I told her, pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant. I wrapped my arm around her as we walked into the restaurant. “2 for Irwin,” I told the hostess, trying to ignore the look she gave us.

“Right this way,” she said, leading us to a table. “Your waiter will be here shortly.”

I ran a hand through my hair as I became aware of everyone’s eyes on us. “I know I’m with the prettiest girl, but damn I’d wish they’d stop staring,” I whispered to her as I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, exposing my arms and tattoos.

“They’re staring at you, Ash. At least the girls are anyway,” she told me.

I shook my head, “Bullshit. I’m a nobody.” I flicked through the menu, busying myself with trying to find something to eat.

“A good looking nobody,” she laughed, setting her own menu aside. “I feel like I’ve said this before, but your tattoos are really cool.”

“Thanks?” I felt my face flush red in embarrassment.

“Are you one of those guys who is just completely oblivious to how good looking they are? It’s both charming and infuriating.”

I shrugged. “That’s a loaded question. If I say yes, then I’m a conceited jackass who only cares about looks. If I say no, I’m a moron. I mean, I see myself all the time so I look like I always have to me. Whether or not that’s attractive to other people or not is up to them.”

“Well, for the record, you are ridiculously attractive. And until now, I’ve been too distracted by that attractiveness to notice much besides just how attractive you are. The tattoos certainly aren’t helping making you any less attractive either. If anything it adds. Are you ready to order?” she finally asked, trying to change the topic. “Or should I keep overusing the word ‘attractive’?”

I laughed and we quickly flagged down the waiter to order. “Well, thanks,” I told her, “But, I still think everybody is looking at you. And why wouldn’t they? You’re beautiful.”

She blushed. “So, the tattoos? Can I see?” she asked, reaching out and gently touching my right forearm.

“Yeah.” I undid my shirt, sliding it off, grateful I had thought to throw a black tank top on underneath so I wasn’t completely shirtless in public.

“These are so cool,” she breathed, her fingers running all over my inked skin.

“I thought so.”

“Did they hurt?”

I nodded as I slipped back into my dress shirt. “But it was more annoying than painful.”

“What caused you to get them?”

“Just little reminders, I guess.”

“Reminders of what?”

“To be the best person I can be both for myself and for Cass. I’m the only parent she has, so I have to do twice as much work as any other parent to make sure she’s not missing out on not having a mom.”

“You have a very interesting story,” she told me.

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, I do. You have a clear attachment to your family, which I find to be endearing. And you don’t let your past damage you. You let it guide you into being a better person.”

“It sounds so much cooler when you say it. Damn, that looks good,” I said as the waiter brought out our food and we started eating. “So, anything interesting I should know about you? Since how you know all about me?”

“I don’t know all about you,” she retorted. “But, fine. Tell me what you want to know.”

“Tell me about Atlanta.”

She shrugged. “It was typical. Um, I’m the middle child. I have an older brother and a younger sister. We’re all close. Parents are still married.”

“What were you like in high school? What made you the woman sitting across from me?”

She laughed. “Again, very typical. Also very cliche. I was head cheerleader, so naturally I dated the quarterback. We were Prom king and queen.”

I laughed, “Damn, I thought I was a cliche in high school. Tell me about Mr. Quarterback boyfriend. How’d you go from him to bar creeps to me?”

“Mr. Quarterback’s name was Charlie. He was a sweetheart, but his views were a little too old-school for me, even though I consider myself to be somewhat of a traditionalist.”

“How so?”

“He didn't want me to go to college. He wanted me to become a housewife and mom. Which, I’m not opposed to necessarily. I just wanted something that was my own, too. So I told him he could either accept that I wanted a future myself outside of the home or I’d find someone who did. So, he tried to accept it. And when I told him I wanted to come here to pursue a master’s and see more of the world, he told me he couldn’t accept it anymore. So, we broke up. And I moved here and promised myself I wouldn’t shy away from putting myself back out there. The creeps were just an unfortunate side effect.”

“Wow. And Charlie was your first?”

She nodded, “But, I don’t have any regrets. And I’m not bitter about it. Like I said, the boy was a sweetheart. We just weren’t destined for forever.”

“That’s a very mature outlook,” I commented.

“I try,” she smiled. “So what about you? What were you like before moving here?”

“I was the captain of my high school’s baseball team. Starting dating the pretty girl senior year that I’d had a crush on since I was five. We weren’t Prom king and queen like you and Charlie. We were Homecoming king and queen, though, so it’s basically the same thing. We stayed together while I put myself through the police academy and she went to college. I wasn’t afraid of her wanting a career, just as long as she wanted me too. Then she got pregnant.”

“And what happened to her? To Cassidy's mom?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” I told her, running a hand through my hair. “Um, I actually wanted to talk about us.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah… Uh, you’ve been over a lot and Cassidy really likes you. And I do too. So I’m hoping that we can, uh… be something more serious than whatever it is we’ve been doing.”

“I thought you didn’t want serious?”

“No, I said I probably wasn’t the guy to get serious with.”

“And now you are?”

“Well, yeah.”

She sighed, “Ash…”

I felt my throat close up. “It’s fine… you don’t… we don’t… it’s fine,” I choked out. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care; that her apparent rejection didn’t hurt. After all, it’s not like we we’re serious.

“It’s not that, Ash. It’s the fact that you think so little of yourself. Ash, I don’t care that you’re a dad. Okay? I care that you’re a good person with a good heart. That’s the Ash I like. That’s the Ash I want to be with.”

I leaned back, confused. “Um… Can we start over?”

She let out a small laugh, “Sure.”

“Hey, Nic. We’ve been spending a lot of time together. You seem to understand better than other girls I’ve been with how important my daughter is to me, and you aren’t threatened by that. I really appreciate that, and so does Cass. As a result, I feel that I’m in a position to take our relationship more seriously.” I tried to pick my words carefully, but I wanted to laugh at how absolutely ridiculous I sounded.

She nodded, biting her lip to hold back a laugh, “Okay. And what do you mean by taking us more seriously?”

“Mainly mutual exclusiveness. I don’t want to date anyone else, and I don’t want you to date anyone else.”

“I thought we were already at that point, though.”

“Were we? I mean, I haven’t been seeing anyone.”

“Neither have I.”

“Oh, well, good. I’d like for us to keep doing that.”

“Me, too,” she smiled.

I cleared my throat, “Sorry… It's been awhile since I asked a girl to be my girlfriend.”

“Oh, is that what you were asking?” Her eyes danced mischievously.

“Well… that’s what I meant by the ‘mutual exclusiveness’ bit…”

“I’m teasing, Ash. I’d like to be your girlfriend very much.” Her face blushed and she looked down.

I felt my mouth split into a cheesy grin. “I’d like that too,” I told her, reaching out for her hand. “Now, serious question: what are your expectations of me being your boyfriend?”

She lifted her head and looked at me. “Wow… um…” she paused to think about it. “Okay. Loyalty and honesty. I don’t do cheaters and I don’t do liars.”

I nodded, “Understandable. Although, can we agree that there are some things worth lying about? Like surprises? I like surprising my girlfriend and they tend to require a few white lies.”

“Oh, well yeah. I meant like big stuff lying.”

I nodded again. “Fair enough, I won’t cheat and I won’t lie about it if I’m ever dumb enough to.”

She laughed, “Good. Oh, respect is huge. Respect for my boundaries, privacy, and my independence.”

“What do you mean by independence? Like not feeling threatened by you wanting a career for yourself? Or not feeling threatened when you want to go out with your friends without me?”

“Both. Jealousy in general bothers me. It kinda goes back to the loyalty and honesty bit. Like yeah, I want you to be loyal and honest, so I’m also going to be loyal and honest in return. So respect that I’m not going to jeopardize that trust. And being threatened of a girl having a career in this day and age is just stupid.”

“Makes sense. Anything else?”

She thought for a minute. “No. Everything else more or less falls into those 3 categories.”

“Consideration isn’t a factor for you?” I asked, giving her a suggestion. “Of feelings, likes, dislikes, the sort?”

She pursed her lips together in thought. “Yeah… I would think it falls under respect, or maybe loyalty, though. But yeah, I like a guy who’s considerate.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Although, I have a… savior complex is what you called it? Well, I call it a protective side that might sometimes interfere with your independence. I don’t do it on purpose and I definitely don’t do it because I think you’re not capable of handling your own shit. It’s just one of those things that kinda just happens and I’m not aware of it until after the fact. But by all means, call me out on it.”

She laughed, “Ah, yes. Your savior complex. It’s irritating, but I also find it rather charming.”

I laughed with her, “Yeah. Like I said, I don’t do it on purpose. You can blame my dad for it if you want. He’s the one I get it from.”

She smiled, “Anything I should know about your expectations?”

“The same things. Have trust and faith in me that I’m not stupid enough to do something to purposefully jeopardize what we have. And if you ever do have concerns about us or me, then come to me rather than trash talk me to your friends or disrespect my privacy by playing private investigator. I don’t play mind games and I don’t want a girlfriend who thinks it’s okay to play mind games with me. That part also applies to passive aggressive behavior. Like if you don’t like that I leave the toilet seat up, just tell me rather than get all pissy. Shit like that. Like we’re both adults, so we don’t need to do childish shit. Also, I have a daughter who is my entire world. While I’m more than willing to open myself up and let you part of that world, Cassidy will always come first and I need you to both understand and accept that.”

“Can do. I don’t expect to date a man who acts like a boy, so you can expect me to not act like a child myself. Anything else?”

I thought about it, and then took a deep breath, deciding to let her be aware of my deepest fear. “If you ever do have concerns about our relationship and they’re concerns that you can’t move past- like break up worthy stuff- please, please tell me right away. Don’t blindside me or lead me on. Ripping off the band-aid will make losing you a little more bearable. It’s hard explaining to Cass why ‘Daddy’s friend’ doesn’t come over anymore.”

Her eyes went a little wide and she leaned back. “Whoa… Okay… I can promise that I’ll come to you with our problems. But, I can’t promise that I’ll automatically throw in the towel if I ever have doubts. I’d want to try to work through those doubts first. But I can promise that I’ll make you aware of them.”

I nodded. “Yeah, that was heavy, I know. And thank you. I know it’s not an easy thing to ask someone, much less agree to it.”

“Ash, nothing you’ve asked is unreasonable. You have a daughter to think about and you guys are a package deal. We’ve both come from relationships that left a few scars. This relationship is new and scary. But, as long as we do things we’ve agreed on, I don’t see us having any problems.”

“No? You don’t want to run after that lovely confession of me being scared as hell that you’ll leave?” I half-teased.

“Hey, you have just as much chance of breaking up with me as I do with you,” she clarified.

I shook my head, laughing, “Like I’d ever break up with a girl like you.”

She laughed with me, “I could say the same thing. Anything last demands, boyfriend?”

“Uh… yeah, just one more. Would you mind coming with Cass and me to my parents on Sunday? It’s uh… kind of my birthday...”

She grinned, “I’d love too.”

I couldn’t hold back anymore and I reached across the table, pulling her face towards mine. I kissed her hard and she kissed back with just as much fierceness, our relationship sealing itself on our lips.

~~~

Tag List (I’m waiting...)

@goeatsomelife​ @flameraine​ @cashtonasff5sos​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @cxddlyash​ @1-irwin-94​ @baldcalum​ @sparkling-chaos​ @tea4sykes​ @youngblood199456​ @5-seconds-of-obsession​

[lucyoftheabyss48]

Cautious Hero: Thoughts on Episodes 1-6

SPOILER WARNING: I’m writing this on the assumption you’ve watched at least the first six episodes of Cautious Hero. You can take this as a review of sorts, and an analysis of maybe a more hidden, overlooked side of the show. The rest is under the cut. If you haven’t seen it but are looking for a reason to watch it and don’t mind some spoilers, then read on. This’ll be the LAST WARNING FOR SPOILERS. So let’s get started.

It may be easy to write Cautious Hero off as just another fun isekai comedy. Every episode seems to have the following formula: the hero Seiya being cautious, the goddess Rista freaking out or getting frustrated at him, some innocent gets in trouble, Seiya finishes his preparations and goes to save the person in an OP fashion, repeat.

However, I think the show has heart. It’s worth watching.

Rista is More Than Just the Memes

She’s loud and crazy and all over the place, and the source of many jokes, especially involving Seiya. She reminds me of Aqua from Konosuba, in that she’s quick to kick up a fuss when things don’t go her way. However, in a way much more obvious than Aqua is, she is a compassionate goddess who cares for her people. This shows in how pressured she feels to raise Seiya as a hero, and in her efforts to push him to save others.

For example:

Almost the entirety of episode 1 is Rista adapting to Seiya’s needs so he can train as he likes. She makes furniture for his room, she cooks for him, she gives him whatever he needs to train. I think what’s important here is that every time she enters his room while he’s training, you see her nose bleeds just at the sight of him from where she’s standing at the door, like this:

She went to him with the goal of getting him to go down to the human world, but she was instantly distracted when she saw him. However, it’s different in episode 2. When the townspeople are seriously in danger, she barges into his room without batting an eyelid at him, and even walks right up to him and grabs his arm (pictures below). The show knows when to joke, but when they’re serious, they’re serious. Human life means a lot to Rista, and the anime makes sure we know it. This is just one example of many where she displays compassion toward humans.  

And we know this isn’t just a fluke, because immediately after Seiya defeats Chaos Machina— as soon as the threat is gone and the town is safe— she hugs and clings to him like this:

The Little Things Behind Seiya’s Actions Matter

Even if he is extremely cautious, he isn’t just an unemotional robot. You could say that caution and wanting to be prepared for anything could stem from some sort of fear, even if it hasn’t been addressed in detail in the anime yet, as of episode 6. It could be fear of death, of pain, of the unknown, etc. It’s treated like a running gag, but Seiya’s cautious nature is proof of his humanity. He just wants to survive. And in episode 2, Rista even questions him about this when he refuses to save the town right away. And guess what? He can’t answer her.

But. He still accepts the good luck charm from the child. He still accepts the two dragon kids, Mash and Elulu, into his party, even if he says they’re just baggage carriers to him. Both of which he does under Rista’s encouragement. By episode 6, he eats Rista’s cooking now, assured and confident that it’s safe— that she wouldn’t poison him:

In other words, he trusts Rista. And it shows. In episode 6, he makes a fake Igzasion. He used his pre-made sword to trick everyone into thinking the lizard leader Leviae became the sword, that the problem was solved.

Why would he do this? Let’s take a closer look at this conversation that occurs after the battle ended, when Rista and Seiya are on their own, talking about the sword.

Rista: “And you used that to hoodwink everyone, huh? To put their minds at ease.”

Seiya: “Look, you can’t tell anyone.”

Rista: “I know. But if, like Leviae said, Igzasion is the only weapon that can beat the Demon Lord…”

Seiya: “We’ll just have to find another way. You said so yourself, didn’t you?”

Rista: “I-I was caught up in the moment when I said that.”

Seiya: “Gonna be okay. Something will work out.”

Rista: “Huh?”

Seiya: “Let’s go. They’re waiting for us.”

(emphasis added)

Now wait. Take a look at Seiya’s line here: “We’ll just have to find another way. You said so yourself, didn’t you?”

When did Rista say this? Let’s go back a few minutes, earlier in the same episode. Elulu is being pushed to the edge of the abyss by the big guards. Mash is being restrained from saving her. Rista has no offensive magic, and can’t do anything. But Seiya shows up behind the guards, and says that they can’t kill her, because she’s his baggage carrier. Rista then breaks into laughter, to which Leviae questions if she, like the hero, has no intention of defeating the demon lord or saving the world. And here’s her answer:

Rista: “I swear to you, we will still save this world. But we can’t sacrifice the life of one of our friends to do so! We will find some other way that does not require Igzasion and defeat the Demon Lord!”

Leviae: “Really… like hero, like goddess.”

(emphasis added)

First, remember what Leviae says right here, I’ll come back to that. Second, Seiya, in his own fashion, saves Elulu after the whole episode dragged on about her being sacrificed, and no one truly tried to stop her yet. Rista was inspired by him, and she’s genuinely happy that Seiya for once is saving someone of his own accord, for his own interests— that she didn’t have to force him or push him to do it. And not only that, she gets the implication. She gets it.

He’s willing to give up a weapon that may be key to defeating the Demon Lord, the biggest threat in the world, the biggest danger, the one existence he should be the most cautious of. He’s giving up a weapon that may be able to get rid of that danger, and why? Because he doesn’t want Elulu to die.

He’d rather give up this ultimate weapon than give up one of his party members. Even if he says she’s just a baggage carrier, there’s no reasonable way Seiya would value a baggage carrier over an ultimate weapon. In the end, he’s choosing her because he has no way of knowing for sure the weapon would even work, so he’d rather choose for Elulu to live. He might be wrong. Maybe it would’ve been better if he had killed her for the sword. But he values her life more than the possible risk that he may be wrong.

And we know how cautious he is. We know how well he thinks through everything. We know every decision he makes is one that he knows for sure is the best one. So for him to save Elulu and give up the sword, means a lot.

And Rista knows it. That’s why she makes this face at him.  

That’s why she’s able to laugh so happily, then so determinedly and confidently and assuredly says that they’ll “find some other way.”  

But then for Seiya to say her words back to her? 

He was listening to her. He remembered what she said. All this time, she’s been nagging him and harping on him, and he only ever does what he wants. He trains by himself, he doesn’t let her see his stats, he acts on his own without listening to her requests. He constantly and consistently acts without any regard for her. He always put his safety and caution as his top priority.

But just this once, he did listen. And not only that, he accepted it. He’s willing to say something so unlike himself, something so unplanned as “something will work out.”

Because he got it from her.

That’s why Rista gets so flustered, and stutters when she says she got caught up in the moment. That’s why she confusedly goes, “Huh?” when he says that. She’s surprised that he heard her. He heard her.

He influenced her, and she influenced him.

Like hero, like goddess.

This is what Cautious Hero is about. It’s not the running gag of Seiya’s extreme caution, or Rista’s antics, though the comedy is entertaining. These two people are forced into this situation they don’t want to be in. But they’re in the same boat. This world is just as dangerous and unfamiliar to them both.

In episode 1, Rista reveals she has saved five worlds before, but the average is ten, and some veterans have saved even hundreds. When it’s announced (with much ceremony and shiny fireworks and a large audience) that she’ll be in charge of saving Gaeabrande, an S-level difficulty world, a god in the background says, “Once you overcome this, you’ll be a full-fledged goddess!”

She isn’t one yet.

Rista responds that she’ll “do [her] best to gain as much experience as [she] can” from saving this S-level world. A world that is “dreadful enough to give even veterans pause.” It’s her assignment. Her mission, and everyone knows it. She has a lot to prove, and a lot to lose.

She’s out of her league. She isn’t as experienced as her talented senior goddess friend, Aria, who she asks for advice many times. She summons Seiya in hopes that he’ll be able to help her. She asks other gods to train Seiya for her in episodes 3 and 5. In other words, she isn’t all that confident in herself and seeks outside help often.

Seiya on the other hand, just wants to live his life safely. This dangerous, new, unfamiliar world is the last place he’d want to be in. But unlike Rista, he is confident in his ability to do what it takes to become perfectly ready. But he lacks compassion and care for others, often hurting them without remorse because of his need for caution. And as we know, Rista has compassion in spades.

Rista and Seiya complement each other, and they cover the other’s weaknesses. They’re slowly changing, because of the other.

This is where the heart of Cautious Hero is. And in my opinion, that’s a good enough reason to watch it to me.