#maybe tonight i can dive into a few pages for a new novel

[lordsardine]

.

[lordgrimwing]

Friends and Family #03

“This is nice,” Maglor said, stretched out on a beach towel, as his dripping brother settled next to him, wet from running in the gentle waves with his adopted sons. He closed the novel he'd picked up at a second-hand store the day before.

Maedhros grunted, his mouth occupied by several bobby pins as he fixed his hair, recoiling the soaking braid atop his head. The whole point of pinning his hair up so tightly was to keep it out of the salt water, but he hadn’t expected Elros and Elrond to grab his hands and drag him down into a particularly large wave. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them this happy,” Maglor continued, nodding to the boys splashing and paddling in the waves, their nearly shoulder-length hair hanging in loose, soaked clumps.

“They love it,” Maedhros said with a soft smile. He’d come up from that wave spitting sand and might have been irritated except he ended up with two armfuls of very excited peredhil. By the time he left the surf, he’d become much better at diving through waves. 

They sat in silence for a minute, taking in the scene: seagulls cried overhead, keeping a sharp eye out for abandoned snacks; the twins played along the shore, a younger elf child coming over to join them; other families staked out their claim across the sand, leaving towels and umbrellas to mark their favored spots. The beach was both busy and soothing.

“We should do this more.” Maedhros decided, rinsing his mouth out with water from a bottle and then taking several drinks.

Maglor raised his eyebrows. Fëanor nearly had a fit when they announced that they’d be taking a few days off work during the week so they could do something with the boys during their school holiday. “Who’s going to tell father?” 

His brother rolled his eyes in a way that would have had Fëanor pinching his ear if he were an elfling again. “He can take his doctor's advice and take up birdwatching,” He said dismissively.

As the eldest sons, they were privy to more details of their father's health than he appreciated.

Maglor snorted at the suggestion. 

More seriously, Maedhros said, “Maybe just an occasional weekend, then.”

They watched the boys and their new friend join a group of older dwarves building an impressive sandcastle. Maglor smiled. “We really should.”

The sun arched across the clear blue sky. Maglor called Elros and Elrond back for lunch. They ate cold tuna salad sandwiches from the cooler on a blanket Maedhros spread on the sand so they could all sit together. Elros showed the adults the blue shell Elrond found in the tide, proudly telling them about the cool shells they found over the years on the coast further south. The younger twin hesitantly asked if he could make necklaces for them all from pieces of the shell when they went back to the city. 

After lunch, the twins wanted to go back into the ocean.

“Not right after eating,” Maglor shook his head. “Wait thirty minutes.”

Elros looked like he might want to argue, but his brother grabbed his hand and demanded that he bury him under the sand so he could pretend to be a baby sea turtle.

Maedhros took off his shirt, arching his back and enjoying the warm sun on it. Their father really might have an aneurysm if he found out exactly how publicly immodest his sons got when he wasn’t there to frown at them for rolling up their pant legs. He repacked the cooler and sprawled out on the towel, stretching his long arms and legs and bumping into the other occupant. He grinned at his brother. “Join us this time,” He invited. 

Maglor picked up his book and fingered the pages. “I'll get sand in my hair,” He said. He's done his hair up in a dark half bun, leaving a loose tail down his back.

“I'll braid it for you.” He said. “The rest of us need to wash tonight already.”

“Promise not to push me under?” 

“I would never,” Maedhros laughed, recalling when, decades ago, they were teaching their younger brothers how to sail on a windy lake. Caranthir insisted that the flimsy life jackets couldn't possibly keep them safe in the waves, refusing to set foot on the light boat. When it became clear that he wouldn't trust the words of his brothers, Maedhros shoved Maglor off the edge, leaving him to flounder in the water until their three younger brothers boarded.

Maglor shuffled around so he faced away from Maedhros. “Go ahead and braid.”

The tall redhead sat up. He quickly undid the bun and set about dividing the other’s hair into four parts at the crown of his head.

They sat quietly while he worked, Maglor watching the other families.

A human woman with frizzled brown hair caught a child who looked about seven years old by the elbow. She wore a striped green and gray swimsuit with a white over-shirt and large sunglasses.  

“Oh no you don’t, Elianor,” She admonished, pulling the girl back to the family’s towels and bins of beach toys. “You’re going to be red as a beat and peeling in the car tomorrow if you don’t put more sunscreen on.” 

“Mom,” The girl complained as white ointment was slathered across her bare back and under the edges of her swimsuit. 

“Do your face and ears,” The woman directed, squeezing more of the sunscreen out of a yellow bottle for her daughter before bending down to coat her legs.

Once everything was worked in and the white layer was exchanged for a slightly oily sheen, the child was released into the water. Once all the children were appropriately protected and freed, the woman popped open a beach chair and settled under an umbrella. 

She looked over at Maglor as Maedhros began pinning the braid up like his own. “Some children never learn,” She said by way of explanation.

He said something in noncommittal agreement, a nagging thought starting to form in the back of his mind.

Her eyes flicked around their towels, blanket, and cooler. “Just the two of you then?” She asked. 

“No,” Maglor said quickly. “The twins in red burying each other in the sand are ours.”

She looked out to where he pointed. “Cute,” She said in the way he was discovering many parents did when talking about other people’s kids. She leaned back in her chair and probably closed her eyes, though he couldn’t tell past the glasses.

Maedhros patted his head like he did when they were kids. “There you go, ready for the water.”

Maglor scooted around to face him again. “Don’t get my hair wet.”

Hands raised in surrender were his only response.

He looked down at his wristwatch. Twenty minutes still to go. That nagging feeling kept eating at him. He picked up the book again, opening to where he left off. He tried to read, but he couldn’t get back into the story.

All at once, he dropped the book and turned to Maedhros.

“We didn’t put sunscreen on them!”

“What?” The other asked, blinking as he came back from wherever the warmth sent him drifting off to.

“Elros and Elrond,” He said, looking over to where the boys were just a couple heads sticking out of the sand, several other kids having joined in on burying them. “They’re part human. They could get sunburns!” 

He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten about it. He hadn’t packed sunscreen, he didn’t even think Maedhros or he had any at their homes. Such a simple, everyday thing for humans, and they’d completely forgotten about it. He dreaded to think about how painful the children’s skin would be tomorrow.

Maedhros frowned. “They’re part elf, too,” He reasoned. “Why should they get burned?”

“They might,” Maglor repeated with worry. “I should go buy some. Or maybe we should all leave so it doesn’t get any worse.”

Maedhros sighed. “It’ll be a thirty-minute drive each way. The damage is already done if it’s going to happen, so let’s not ruin the rest of the day. Besides,” He added. “They’ve clearly spent a lot of time in the water. I think they’d know if they need to worry about it.”

Personally, Maglor never thought it was too late to start mitigating damage, but his brother had made up his mind. He’d just have to deal with whatever came of it.

[anitabyars]

A sharp, emotional novel about a tough-minded bar owner who makes a deal with a devil of a cowboy—and might just get burned…

Moving to Montana to buy a dive bar with her two best friends sounds like a can’t-miss idea to Charly Henwood. The scenery is breathtaking, and the cowboys aren’t bad-looking either. Not that Charly’s interested. Her heart is as unmovable as the surrounding mountains. After her cheating ex-boyfriend destroyed their relationship and their nightclub, she’s determined to take care of herself, her friends and their bar.

But it turns out the regulars resent newcomers swapping their craft beer for an extensive cocktail menu. One is particularly not happy—The Naked Moose’s previous owner, Jaxon Reed. The last thing Charly needs is a cocky cowboy telling her how to run her bar, or her life. But maybe she can use Jaxon to her advantage. If he’ll agree to be the prize in a charity auction, Charly will make the bar a little more cowboy-friendly.

When that plan backfires, Charly finds herself doing battle with the biggest temptation in Timber Falls. A man who has made it his mission to win her over, using every infernal means at his disposal. And if her resolve goes up in flames, her heart is sure to follow…

My Review

5 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This wonderful read has an abundance of feels, and plenty of aww moments. I simply adored Jaxon and Charly and their story turned my insides into marshmallows. I have become a huge fan of this author. She writes with so much intensity, passion and emotion. Some lines are quick, witted storylines, and are so perfect and lets you believe you have a front row seat into these characters. So reading this opposite-attract love story didn’t disappoint!

Jaxon Reed and Charly Henwood come alive page after page.

Becoming a third-generation top-notch quarter horse breeder, wasn’t what Jaxon Reed had planned to do so suddenly, but after his father’s passing he couldn’t let his family’s ranch break apart and lose its legacy.

Before his father’s death, Jaxon had owned a bar on Main Street that he had been proud, that he’d brought to the town—a place where the locals felt like they belonged. And tonight his best friends and himself needed to hit up his old bar The Naked Moose’s for its grand opening and see what the new owners had done with it.

When they arrived he was shocked, he felt like he’d stepped into a place that not only didn’t cater to anyone he knew in Timber Falls, but that the bar did not belong in a small rustic town.

And then he saw Charly, and she was not like anyone he’d ever met before.

Charly Henwood and her two best friends Willow and Aubrey has bought The Naked Moose in Timber Falls, Montana. They had called in their backup pact and were all starting over, after all of them had gone through hard times in the last few years. Willow had endured an abusive ex-boyfriend. Aubrey had quit her job because of harassment and Charly caught her fiancé cheating on her. They completely revamped the small town bar into an upscale bar. And since they all were mending broken hearts, themselves, they wanted a place that brought women together and celebrated them, while also providing the town with something it lacked, a higher-end bar.

But what happens when the locals aren’t so happy about what they have done? They have everything invested in their venture. Can they make it here?

I absolutely loved the journey this book took me on! So full of life and love, fire, and passion, angst, and turmoil. I can’t wait for the next book in this series!

I received an early copy, and this is my honest review.

[betweenpaperpages]

Hear Me Still: Chapter Eight

Summery: A new store-front is set to open on main street in Storybrooke and with it brings new resident Mr. Gold to the center of attention. While he looks forward to this new step in business, it is yet unknown if his deafness will set him back once again.

Beta: @ishtarelisheba

Read on AO3!

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five][Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven]

Chapter Eight: Safe With Me

_______________________________________________________

“Belle.”

Belle turned the page of her book carefully, her eyes following the flow of words as the narrator continued to speak between the lines of the story. Her free hand wrapped around the ceramic mug of coffee next to her, the heat seeping into her skin as it seemed forgotten. 

“Belle.”

Her eyes continued to track the words, bouncing up to the previous paragraph to reread the twist that threw the protagonist into a new dilemma. 

“Earth to Belle!”

Blue eyes shot up to where Ruby stood in front of her, one hand on her hip and the other grasping the handle of the coffee pot, a single eyebrow raised in question. 

“Were you in a trance or something? I was trying to get your attention for nearly five minutes,” Ruby complained, shaking her head indulgently.

“Sorry, Ruby, sometimes I get so focused I forget the world outside my book.” She laughed. 

“Reading something good then?” Ruby asked, leaning forward over the table to take a look, only for Belle to flip it shut and hold it up, putting up the cover of Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice for display. 

“Oh.” She deflated, looking disappointed. “I thought maybe you were reading something… spicy.” Ruby offered Belle an over exaggerated wink to push her point across. 

“Only you would think to read that material in public,” Belle commented, shaking her head affectionately. 

Ruby gave a shrug, shifting her weight to the opposite hip. “Small towns, limited options, what can I say? Everyone has needs, even bookworms like yourself.”

Granny stepped out from the kitchen to find her granddaughter, a well-worn apron wrapped around her dress with matching oven gloves on her hands. “Ruby Anita Lucas - I need you behind the counter, I have to get these pies out of the oven.”

“I’m just refilling Belle’s coffee, Granny.”

“Her cup isn’t as deep as the ocean! I need you back here. I don’t have eyes in the back of my head and I can’t have these pies burning,” she reprimanded her granddaughter. Ruby huffed, her shoulders drooping. “I’ll be right there!”

Granny offered Belle a warm smile and a wink before disappearing back into the kitchen, presumably to save her bakes from the oven. 

“How about drinks tonight? Rabbit Hole at eight? First round is on me,” Ruby offered, finally refilling Belle’s coffee mug. “Count me in.” 

xxxxx

The Rabbit Hole was not the classiest place in comparison, but for a small town dive bar, it did its job well enough. If you looked past the occasional drunk patron and the ill-placed dart board, one could even say it was alright. 

The smell of spilled beer and rush of heat from the summer weather greeted her as Belle entered the bar. She received a nod of greeting from the bartender where he stood cleaning the counter next to where Leroy was having a drink. She returned it with a quick smile before heading back to the usual table they occupied, finding Ruby already there with a drink in hand. 

“Getting started without me, Rubes?” she asked, hanging her purse on the knob of the chair as she took her seat. 

Ruby laughed, raising her drink to be on display. “Hardly! This is my first one. I invited Anna out, but she’s in the bathroom.” 

“Great! I haven’t had the chance to see her lately with the summer programs running at the library.” 

“You need to take more time for yourself,” Ruby pointed out. Belle couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the comment. “I take plenty.” “A soak in the bath with a glass of wine and a dirty romance novel don’t count as personal time,” Ruby pointed out, pushing a gin and tonic across the table to her. “Maybe if we get you hooked up with someone you’ll dedicate yourself less to work.”

She shook her head, her curls rustling behind her shoulders. “I love my job. Besides, we all know how bad my dating history is. Do we really need to add to it?” “What are we adding to?” Anna asked as she walked up and took her seat, setting her drink down. 

“Belle’s dating history,” Ruby answered. 

Anna squealed excitedly, “Oh! We can do that! Should be easy enough.” 

“I don’t want to add to it, Anna,” Belle pointed out. “I want to end it. I’m tired of one bad date after another. I want something to last long term.” 

“Like true love!” She sighed dreamily, clasping her hands together. 

“Hold onto your glitter, Sparkle Pants.” Ruby laughed, patting Anna’s shoulder. “Not everyone can land it like you did on your second swing.”

Belle laughed lightly, stirring her drink with the straw. “Didn’t Kristoff actually ‘sweep you off your feet’ because you nearly fell into the college fountain?” “It still counts,” Anna protested, crossing her arms under her chest and pouting. 

“And he loves you very much,” Belle commented, smoothing over any of her ruffled feathers from their teasing. “How is your sister’s, by the way?” Anna relaxed quickly at the change of topic, instantly forgiving her friend’s light-hearted jabs. “Her love life? On hold for now. Elsa wants to finish her PhD before she even considers the notion.” 

“I understand that.” Belle nodded in agreement. “Hard enough just to balance everyday life with studying, let alone romance on top of it.” 

“Well, since you're done on that front, it just means we can focus on the second part now!” Ruby announced, once again redirecting this on her target. 

Belle rolled her eyes, busying herself with taking a long and deep sip of her drink as she watched the two of them. Might as well let them have their fun for now, she thought. 

Belle set her drink aside, standing with a stretch of her shoulders as she decided to rack up one of the pool tables for a game. Anna and Ruby seemed to need a minute to put their heads together in private to discuss their strategy and gather a list of options for Belle’s love affairs. 

Just as she finished racking the table and applied chalk to her pool cue, the two of them had completed their notes, popping up to present their case. 

“Okay, we got this! We have a compilation of who could be your true love,” Anna announced, holding up a napkin with various notes scribbled across it. 

“Or at least your next one nighter,” Ruby interjected. 

“Ruby!” Belle called out, her cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

The taller brunette simply shrugged. “Like I said, everyone has needs.”

Anna cleared her throat to get their attention, holding up the bar napkin to display it to Belle, watching her as she leaned against the pool table. 

“Number one on the list, Dr. Archie Hopper. He’s mild mannered, very sweet, loves dogs and has a successful career.” Anna offered up their first choice, listing their reasoning. 

“Number two,” Ruby pitched in. “Will Scarlet. He’s hot, not to mention hot, oh and he’s also hot if you didn’t know… Oh, and he has an English accent,” she pointed out, waggling her eyebrows. 

“And number three,” Anna continued, “August Booth. Everyone finds him handsome, he is a writer, and he has always been chivalrous.” 

Belle humored her friends as she heard them out, spinning the pool cue between her hands as they finished. “Those are my options you two have found?

“Well, the top three at least... Jefferson came in fourth place, but he can be pretty eccentric,” Ruby noted. 

Anna giggled in excitement. “So, what do you think?”

“I think Dr. Hopper is very nice, but I can’t say he’s my type. Will is still in love with his ex and everyone knows he’s completely heartbroken,” Belle answered, taking a moment to think. “As far as August is concerned, I don’t know him well enough, but he seems to be taken by his typewriter.”

“What about Jefferson?” Anna offered up, reaching for success. 

“That would just be awkward. I’m friends with both Jefferson and his daughter, that would change our dynamic a lot.”

Ruby smiled behind her glass as she took a drink. “I wouldn’t throw that out the window. Have you seen a shirtless Jefferson? It could be a good change in dynamic.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

Belle shook her head, reaching back to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I don't even want to know where you saw that.” 

“Fair enough.” Ruby laughed, grabbing a spare pool cue from the rack to line up the first shot. 

“Ooh, the loser buys the next round!” Anna announced, following over to watch the match. 

xxxxx

A fair few drinks and a couple games of pool later, the girls were certainly enjoying their night. 

On the other side of the bar, other town residents were trying their best to enjoy their night, as well. 

Marcus had closed the shop for the night and taken care of errands while Jefferson had a father daughter night at home. Rather than interrupt their time, he had decided to have a drink at the bar to relax, thinking that the night cap might provide a calmer night than he had previous. 

Drinking was something he was always careful about. In his previous line of work, he had seen people turn to it as a crutch far too easily. It was a dark path to watch someone spiral out of control with it and he didn’t fancy finding himself in the same position. 

It was the first time he had come to the Rabbit Hole and he was thankful that the bartender had little interest in holding a conversation with the lone drinker. Rather, he seemed to keep himself busy with filling drink orders and cleaning his work space. 

No one enjoyed a nosy bartender. 

Rather, Marcus’ attention was focused on the same pair the bartender seemed to have a casual interest in. They had been at the opposite end of the counter before he came in and despite the music, the pool games, and the general chatter in the space - even with his hearing aid volume turned down - he was sure he could hear the two men from a mile away. 

Keith Nottingham slammed his glass back down against the bar top, tossing back the end of his rum and coke.

“You’re better off without that cheating bitch, at least now you’re free to get some real ass,” he pointed out, rubbing the stubble of his beard. He turned and tapped his glass twice on the bar for another round. 

Arthur grumbled under his breath as he complained about his ex-wife. She had barely sent him the divorce papers before she was already in another man’s bed.

He folded his arms and shook his head. “In this town? Knowing you, I’d be getting your sloppy seconds.” 

“Fine, then. You can sit here and sulk, and in the meantime, I’m going to find some better company for the night.” 

Keith grabbed up his fresh drink with a grin, watching as Belle leaned over the pool table to line up another shot in the game. He already knew whose company he wanted for the night. 

He got up, leaving Arthur to deal with his own problems. As he walked up behind the petite brunette, it seemed that her two friends had excused themselves to make a phone call outside.

Keith knew an opening when he had one. He leaned over her back while she was focused on lining up another shot in her pool game. 

“You’ll never make the pocket at this angle, babe. Let me show you a better one…” he whispered, running his fingers down her spine towards her backside. 

Belle gasped, jumping at the unexpected touch, the butt of her pool cue to smacking into Keith’s gut as she spun around. The unexpected jab to his gut forced him to let go of his grip on his glass as he clutched at his stomach, the drink flying forward as the liquid contents spilled down the front of Belle’s dress before the glass hit and shattered on the bar floor. 

“Keith, what the hell!” Belle exclaimed, taking in her soaked state.  

“Whoops, sorry babe,” he answered, brushing the incident off as he took in the view of Belle’s dress.

The top of her dress clung to her like a second skin, the light color fabric losing its opacity as it exposed the lines of the bra beneath. 

Keith grinned, his eyes traveling in a particular direction as he spoke again. “Why don’t you come back to my place and we can get you out of that wet dress?” 

From the counter, Arthur let out a wolf whistle at the sight. Sure he had his own problems to deal with, but he certainly wasn’t going to miss out on a free show when it was put on display so well.

Belle had opened her mouth to tell him off as the weight of a thick knit cardigan landed around her shoulders, large enough that it fell around her front to cover her wet bodice. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” An accented voice cut in as Marcus stepped in between them, forcing Keith to take a step back. “I’m quite sure she can take care of herself,” he commented. “Whether you are capable of taking care of yourself is another matter.” 

Before Keith had a chance to sputter anything back, Marcus had set his hand on Belle’s shoulder lightly as he led her away back to her table, leaving Keith to deal with the broken glass and the irritated bartender. 

“Are you alright, Miss French?” 

“Yes… Yes I am. Thank you,” she answered, gripping onto the sides of his cardigan as she held it around herself. 

“Think nothing of it,” Marcus answered. “If you like —” 

“Oh my god, Belle! What happened!” Ruby called out as she jogged back to their table. “Are you alright?”

“You’re soaked through and there isn’t even a fountain in here!” Anna added, grabbing up their note napkins from earlier as she started to pat her friend dry. 

Marcus smiled to himself as he slipped his hands into his pockets, taking the chance to excuse himself from the bar. He was right - Belle could take care of herself, and she certainly had enough additional help. 

Belle nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. I just got soaked from Keith’s drink when he—” 

“When he what? I can’t believe the nerve of him. I’ll… Wait, whose sweater is that?” Ruby questioned.

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

Protecting the Spiderling Pt 3

Avoiding the five essays and four stories I’m meant to be working on because it’s 1AM and I don’t want to :P Plus, I laid back to do some writing, but forgot my novel (that I’m literally writing a paper on) on the other side of the couch and ugh I don’t want to get up to get that XD In other news, I think I’ve said, but final papers are coming up, so I’m in the middle of a mad rush to try and finish up everything so I can use these last weeks to just work on final term papers and portfolios. Also, this idiot here decided she could totally read 30 books this month alone, so.... I’m at 20, maybe 21 if i get to read tonight, but I’m taking recs if you guys have any quick reads that you liked XD

Hope you enjoy because I enjoy writing this but I’m not sure that the story’s all that great. Still working out the characters. Here’s Part 1 and Part 2, if you haven’t read them yet :) If you guys have any fics of mine you’d like to see more of, I’m always excited to hear from y’all! Also, I’m drained of ideas right now lol, so feel free to throw thoughts at me. No promises, but you never know :) Marvel I’ll do anything so long as Peter and/or Tony are involved, and y’all know me and Voltron haha

EDIT: It has a title now, guys, I’m such an idiot

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

As soon as Peter left for school the next day, Steve and Tony made their move, calling all the Avengers to a meeting. As soon as they gathered, Bucky quietly moved to the door, ensuring that no one could leave until Tony was done with them. He scoffed when Natasha was the only one who noticed him move. Some heroes. They were just bullies. And idiots.

               Although, as far as Bucky knew, they couldn’t really blame Bruce, but whatever. He needed to hear this, too. Better that everyone be on the same page.

               “Something has been brought to our attention, and we felt it would be better if we addressed it sooner rather than later,” Steve didn’t even bother with pleasantries. He could feel Tony fuming beside him, and felt it was more important that they get this taken care of before his boyfriend tried to go on a murder spree. While Steve had no doubt Tony could take on any of the Avengers, he also knew that Peter would be upset if half the Avengers were killed by his dad, and then Tony would be sad, and then Bucky would brood cause his favorite boys would be upset, and then Steve would have to listen to all of them mope and whine. Ugh.

               “What the hell is your problem with my kid?” Tony demanded. Steve closed his eyes briefly, praying for strength – because yes he was going to dive right in, but not like that – and when he let his eyes open again, he saw Bucky face palming on the other side of the room.

               Natasha spoke first, “I thought you said you weren’t related to the boy?”

               “That’s not the point, Romanov. The point is that child is in my care and custody, and the other adults,” Tony spat the word like it was an insult, “are treating this like the school playground and bullying the only actual child we have here! It’s a pretty sad day when a 16 year old kid is more mature than Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

               As Bucky had suspected, Bruce was staring at everyone with surprise and amazement on his face; he had been completely unaware of what was happening to Peter. That still wasn’t an excuse, but that really just told Bucky that he wasn’t spending enough time with the kid, just as he himself hadn’t been. Sure, Bucky hadn’t really been around for most of the custody thing, but even he had seen more of the abuse in the couple of days he’d been back than Bruce apparently had in the last few months.

               “He’s too young for the field.”

               “Excuse me?” Steve froze. Tony’s voice was dangerously low. “Care to repeat that, Rustwing?”

               But Sam bit his lip, and Clint spoke up instead. “He’s just a kid, Tony. It’s not fair for you to let him on the field.”

               “You can’t honestly tell me that you’re just jealous that the kid gets to see action on more of a regular basis than you do.”

               “Antoshka,” Romanov spoke up again, “he’s too young. He’s going to get hurt, and that’s not fair. He shouldn’t be out in the field at all, because it’s going to get him killed, and that’s going to destroy you.”

               There was a long silence, and then Bucky’s disbelieving voice. “So you, what? Thought that you could drive him away… So he would stay off the field? That’s actually what you thought was going to happen?”

               Even Bruce was gaping at the spy. Maybe he wasn’t as oblivious as Bucky had originally thought. Clint persisted.

               “Well, yeah, because then he would realize that he wasn’t part of the team or anything, and then he would take that time to just go ahead and be a normal kid, because let’s face it, fighting crime – especially the way he does – is not in any way normal, even for an adult. So this would—”

               “You are such an idiot,” Bruce hissed. “That wouldn’t stop the kid!”

               Tony scoffed. “No kidding. If anything, that would only encourage him to be more stupid on the field, Birdbrain.”

               “I feel that we’re getting slightly off track,” Steven broke in. “The main point that we’re driving at is that Peter is a child. One that is under Tony’s – and therefore our – protection. Bullying him by shooting at him—”

               Tony shot Clint another dirty look, and Bucky counted it a blessing that he wasn’t calling a suit right then and there.

               “—or by ruining his homework, or threatening or even manipulating him to stay in his room is not acceptable.” With each word, Bruce was looking more and more green. “I mean, my God, does it make you feel fucking good about yourselves to make a kid cry? Is that what you were looking for, some kind of entertainment?”

               At the reminder of Peter with tears in his eyes, Peter apologizing for being in the way, Peter scurrying off with his overly full bag and what little homework he had saved, Bucky felt anger wash over him again.

               “You will be apologizing to Peter.” Tony’s voice was like ice, and it sent both Steve and Bucky on high alert. “Otherwise you can find other living arrangements. If you can’t respect my family, then you will not be allowed to stay here.”

[strengthofasunflower]

📚Favourite Books 📚

Ever since I was young, I was a big reader. You always found me with a book in my hands or one not too far away from me. Books were my way to get away from the real world. I never realized this until I was in college and I couldn’t really pick what I wanted to read because I had so many readings to do for my courses. I realized that when I felt anxious or overwhelmed, I wanted to reach for a novel to escape those feelings but in college, I really couldn’t do that, so those feelings just got too intense for me and I found that poetry was my new favourite thing to read in college. Now that I am out of college and able to pick what I want to read, I realized that reading was a huge part of my self-care toolkit.

So, I thought I would do a post about my favourite books. I love almost every type of book. Each book to me was another world that I could dive into and always come back to if I wanted to. I read everything from fantasy, wellness, poetry, fiction, and everything in between. I was the type of person that you told me to read this book, and I would read it. I love being this type of person because I was able to learn so much from the different books that got recommended to me and a new way to connect with people.

This list of books will be from these last couple of years/what books I have on my shelf. I have a TON of books back at my parent’s house which reminds me that I need to get those from my parents…Anyways, it is a list of new books I have fallen in love with since I got out of high-school and college. I do have 1 series from my childhood that I will be adding to the list because I re-read them ALL the time. This list is from the top of my head and has read in the last few years.  I don’t think I would be able to rank books because all of them are perfect in their own way.

Let’s get into that list!

Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling

This series has been my life forever. I am a huge Harry Potter nerd. But an interesting fact is that I did not read the whole series until I was in high-school. The reason why I didn’t read them was because of my brother. He is about 5 years older than me and when I was old enough to read them on my own, he would always ruin them for me. So, I didn’t read them and just watched the films. But after a rough time when I was in high-school, I thought, why not read them. I was extremely mad at myself for not reading them sooner. J.K Rowling did an amazing job writing those books and it made me fall in love with the Harry Potter Series in a new way. Even to this day, I will turn back to this series to read when I am going through a rough time. I feel like I always connect and relate with the storyline and characters when I read them.

To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee

I know what some of you are thinking, “didn’t you read that in high-school” and my answer is no. I was in the college system of English class and only the university system read it. My class read a novel called, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey and Of Mine and Men by John Steinbeck (another favourites of mine that I need to re-read). So, I was at Indigo and saw To Kill A Mockingbird on sale for super cheap (like $8.00) so I picked it up. I am so glad that I did. It was a real eye-opening book and made me rethink and relooked at the world around me.

The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin

My boyfriend got me this book one year for my birthday and I wasn’t too sure about it. But after reading it, I enjoyed her book and the project that the author took on. After reading the book, it made me look more into my own life and how I can make my life happier for myself and not for others.

Ready Player One by Ernest Cline

Another one of my boyfriend’s picks. He is a super nerdy guy who loves gaming, coding and everything like that. Myself on the other hand, horrible at gaming, know NOTHING about coding and everything and I love this book. The storyline of the book makes you never want to put this book down. I literally had to tell myself, “okay, only two chapters tonight, you have work in the morning”. It is a real page-turner and does show what our future could be like which was crazy to think about, but it is true. So many of us are online gamers and living online now, I could see the world turning into an online world, maybe not to the degree that the book is like but close to.

Milk and Honey & The Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi Kaur

In college, I found myself lost in many ways but in this sense, at a lost of what to read. My girlfriend told me about Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur. I had seen some of her work on Tumblr and was a fan of it. So, I bought Milk and Honey, and it made me fall in love with poetry. I love both of her books and really connect with them on a personal level. I have read each of these books a couple of times and I always find that I make a new connection and they open my mind in so many ways. Also, they have helped me get back into reading because yes, they do have a storyline to them, but it is one of those books that you can put down and come back to whenever you need it. I have opened these books and started to read from anywhere and it makes sense.

Pillow Thoughts & Pillow Thoughts 2 by Courtney Peppernell

After reading Rupi Kaur’s book, I adventured out to other poetry books and found Country Peppernell. Oh my gosh, her books are amazing and will mess you up in the best way possible. The whole idea of her poetry is that there is a jellyfish called “You” and it goes through big life stuff like “If you are in love”, “If you need a reason to stay”, etc. Like when I was reading those books for the first time, I never felt SO connected to words on a page until I read her books. It really changed my life and my views on life. Whenever people want a recommendation from me, I almost always tell them to investigate these books. It truly makes you think, process and learn about yourself and others when you read these books.

the princess saves herself in this one & the witch doesn’t burn in this one by Amanda Lovelace.

These poetry books are totally empowering ones for all women (sorry guys…). Amanda’s poetry is all about being strong, badass women who do not need a man her life to make her happy and even the horrors that men do to women. They are very powerful books that do touch on a lot of serious topics which I love. As a young lady, I found it empowering to read those words and it has allowed me to talk to other people about serious topics. It would be a really good book for a book club. My girlfriend and I can talk for hours about any and all the topics that they bring up now. It is amazing.

Soft Thorns by Bridgett Devoue

My girlfriend got me this one for Christmas. It is like Amanda Lovelace books, it is another empowering poetry for women. It talks about love, heartbreak, sexual assault, sexism and humanity, which I love. It is another one that makes you think, process and wants to discuss the topics in the book.

Living with Mild Cognitive Impairment by Anderson, Murphy, & Troyer.

Okay, so this one is WAY different from the others, I got this book from Dementia for Montessori Course back in November. I am in the field of activation for seniors and I took the course to expand my learning outside of college. One of the teachers had this book to give us and I loved it. It opened my mind to the different process of what dementia could be. This is a great book for anyone who has a loved one that you are worried about their memory or anything like that. It educates you on what dementia is, what MCI is, and steps to get help and to help yourself and your loved one.

Those are the ones that I have read over these past couples of years (not including textbooks) and they have become some of my new favourites. I would recommend these books to everyone. They are all great reads and expand your mind in many ways.

Right now, I am reading, American War by Omar El Akkad and have been enjoying it. I do have a list of books to read this year.

Here is that list:

America War by Omar El Akkad (Currently reading)

Washington Black by Esi Edugyan

Choice Theory by William Glasser

Yoga for Beginners by Cory Martin (I am a huge fan of yoga and wanted more education on it)

Discover Meditation & Mindfulness by Tara Ward

Very Good Lives by J.K. Rowling

If you guys have any recommendations, please private message me! I am always looking for something new to read!

[infinite-saudade]

SINCE THE FALL

I’m jumping on a mini trampoline. The Pacific Ocean spreads like blue butter behind me, churning itself obsessively. Compulsively. Like me. 

“Are you a perfectionist?” Cora asks from the frame of the massive sliding glass doors. She steps out onto the deck barefoot, squinting up at my fluctuating face, her pale green eyes stung by the sun. I know she had an eating disorder, like me. And had an emotionally unavailable father, like me. Her body looks flawless in a green swimsuit and denim cutoffs, legs taut and toned. I bounce bounce bounce, contemplating her question. My pelvic floor is failing, spurts of urine escaping. Unseen, like most of my issues. I’ve yet to find an honest mirror in glass or flesh, no eyes can tell me the truth.

“A reformed one, perhaps,” I answer, slightly out of breath. “I still have Type A tendencies.”

“Yeah, me too. It seems like you’re really strict about fitness and what you eat.”

“At this point, I just want to be healthy,” I gasp, my voice knocking around in my neck.

Cora rolls a yoga mat out from its coil and proceeds to do crunches, bicycles, scissor kicks, and so on. She is interested in me but also wary and jealous. I am yet another person vying for her father’s attention, affection, love. She exudes insecurity and her energy inspires my anxiety. The way she speaks is so high-strung and rapid, the sound of her voice causes my chest to tighten.

“Just shut up and chill out,” I want to say, but of course I can’t. I wish she’d find time to spend with him when I’m not here. I wish, just for once, I could have him to myself and be the sole focus of his adoration. I’m sure Cora wishes the same.

* 

I’m floating on the surface of a black lake sky, billions of stars at my back. Looking up is looking down, conical breasts pointing towards Earth like twin laser gun noses. There is no one on my radar. Do men even know that I exist? Will the hand of God pluck me from this inky molasses pool and plant my form in the path of True Love? I float, unperturbed and undisturbed, yet suspended from zero gravity. Not even the sound of my own breathing washes to the shores of my conk shell ears, much less a call, a message, a telepathic thought sent my way. I am supposedly beautiful! Brilliant, talented, kind, funny, inspiring, strong, tough, sweet, soothing, stoic, sultry, sexual...but no mate will hunt me down and devour my heart and present his to me like a cat dropping a dead bird on the doorstep. No man will be my mirror, reflecting the self I want to see. I, the amoeba, the single-celled organism, must do it for myself, must love and fuck and affirm myself until death do me part. Ha! Me and I shall never part, we’re already whole and One. It’s just not fair, though, that I have to do all this work alone and no one has to put up with me or have my back. The Universe has my back, and it just figures that I’m damned to float upon its surface when all I’d have to do is twist around face down (up) to finally see myself reflected back more clearly than any man or mirror could achieve. But I’d only catch a glimpse before the black lake sky would swim up my nose, flood my mouth, and I’d drown in the knowledge of all that I am and all that this is. At least then, though, for just one delicious moment, I wouldn’t feel so preposterously invisible.

*

He doesn’t touch me the way I want to be touched. There is no sensuality, eroticism, or depth. His inability to caress my skin with the loving fingers of an intimate soulmate leaves my heart cold. I can feel my flesh turn to stone, bracing externally to protect the internal world from emotional injury.

*

I haven’t been the same since The Fall last summer. Ynez and I were having a picnic on the waterfront beneath a lemon meringue sun. My golden skin deepened into copper tone and Ynez pointed out the blonde streaks approvingly. 

“Go stand on those rocks, I want to take your picture,” she said.

I stood from our sandy blanket and began walking towards the boulders jutting into the bay. It was taking too long to get there so I broke into a jog to assuage my impatience. I felt strong, fit, able. My pace quickened simply because it was possible and I reveled in the victory of maintaining the athleticism of youth in an aging body. I leapt from rock to rock, the boulders growing larger in size as I neared my destination. Without warning, my foot slid across the wet, algae-glazed surface and it may as well have been black ice. There was a sickening heart-plummet as both legs flew straight up in the air and my spine smacked against sharp edges of sea-carved granite, the back of my skull cracking as it made contact milliseconds later. I know it must have all happened too fast to fathom, but I experienced The Fall in slow motion. My smooth-soled sneaker sliding, my torso diving, legs swinging skyward, head knocking on a rock so forcefully that my teeth clacked together. I lay still for a moment, marveling at my life and consciousness remaining intact. Another victory. Slowly, I pushed myself upright, waving back towards the shore to ensure that Ynez didn’t have a conniption fit. I got to my feet, dazed, embarrassed, stunned, shaking. Satisfied that I wasn’t dead, Ynez took a few photos, her form small and distant and unable to feel my ruptured energy. I didn’t want to worry her. I didn’t want to worry me. 

When I’d made my way back to our sandy spread, she noticed the copper skin of my wrist, back, and shoulder was bleeding, scraped up and sliced through.

“What about your head?”

She felt around my blonding hair and I winced when her fingers landed on a huge bump.

“It’s not bleeding, which is a good sign,” she assured me. “But maybe we should go to the hospital just to be safe.”

“Nah, I’d rather die than deal with a ten thousand dollar ER bill,” I said. Her face looked frightened. “I’m fine,” I insisted.

We left the beach and made our way back to the streets of Brooklyn. Ynez chattered on about life and it became difficult to focus on what she was saying. I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me and my vision blurred.

“Actually, I might have a concussion,” I said sheepishly. “I still don’t want to go the hospital, though.”

We took a car back to her apartment. She made us frozen margaritas and we smoked a joint on her rooftop as the sun set.

“You shouldn’t be alone tonight,” said Ynez. “It’s not safe to fall asleep with a concussion.”

“I don’t know if I actually have a concussion,” I said. “I’m not a doctor.”

“No, you do for sure.”

“You’re not a doctor, either.”

“No, but you didn’t see what I saw. You felt it, but I watched it happen. I can’t believe you’re still alive after that.”

“I’m Jewish, we’ve survived worse.”

The joint was fat and burned well. I was high, buzzed, and concussed, all at once. I’d buy ice cream on the way home, watch a stupid movie, and wait to feel normal again.

I’m still waiting. I haven’t felt normal since. I don’t know who I am anymore.

*

There are material items I got from him that I love. Some given willingly, others taken without his knowledge or permission. Coats, a Mexican blanket, books...creature comforts. Softness and intimacy that he withheld in words and touch can still be found in the arms of garments and in the pages of novels that his monetary wealth provided. He was poor, though, spiritually and soulfully impoverished. This new girl he’s dating will find that out soon enough, if she even cares. Why am I sad that he found someone before me, before I did, I mean? Do I want him to continue to suffer for not fulfilling my desires? Well, yeah. It seems ludicrous that he should get to be happy. Yes, I want him to be mired in the swampy sadness indefinitely, to die alone and unloved. I want him to be exposed for the cowardly fraud he truly is. He gets new love, though, yet another beautiful young body to encase his old cock, and I’m the one who’s alone and lonely, snuggled between pages in the arms of cashmere.

[marypsue]

let's break it (just because we can)

Hey! Guess what! It’s more of my bullshit!

Content warnings for suicidal ideation and canon-typical alcohol abuse. I still haven’t seen S3, so just pretend anything canon-noncompliant is happening somewhere else in the theoretically-infinite multiverse. Someday I’ll actually watch shit when it airs.

I’m also on AO3, as MaryPSue.

...

It’s got a white picket fence.

Sure, the house itself looks like some kind of giant house-eating alien shat it out after a particularly difficult digestion. Sure, the yard has apparently been used to store dead cars for the last millennium. Sure, that fence is faded, warped with age and rain, rotted out or broken in places and, in a big chunk out front beside the gate, fallen right down flat. Doesn’t matter. It’s still a white picket fence.

Love’s a little like cocaine. It’s great at the beginning, an overwhelming rush. It turns you into somebody better, smarter, cooler. Somebody else.

“It’s got a little white picket fence,” she says, and she’s a little bit in love with it already, and you’re so in love with her that yeah, maybe you’re a little bit in love with it too.

And that’s why you make the mistake of thinking - yeah. this could be good.

…

“Hey. Beth, isn’t it?”

Beth looks up. The girl who’s sat down across from her and is currently leaning across the library table like she wants to leap over it shakes out her mane of honey-blonde curls, smiling. Her hair gleams like burnished gold under the fluorescent lights, and Beth has to stop herself from self-consciously winding a strand of her own brittle, bleached hair around a finger. She wonders, briefly, if her roots are showing.

“Yeah?” she asks, and the other girl’s smile grows brighter. Heather, Beth thinks, or maybe Jennifer? The other girl’s so often part of a group of equally tan and beautiful people, it gets hard to tell them apart.

“You’re the one who told Lucas that your dad is out of town touring because he’s a rockstar?” Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer asks, leaning in closer like she’s sharing some scandalous secret. She smells like vanilla. Beth leans back in her seat.

“Sounds like me,” she says. She doesn’t know which one of the golden boys Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer hangs around with is Lucas, and frankly, she doesn’t care unless he wants to buy weed.

Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer looks gloriously confused for half a second, before the smile returns full force.

“We’re having a bonfire Saturday night,” she says. “Out by the point? You can come if you want.”

Beth leans forward, until her forehead is nearly touching Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer’s.

“You’re just inviting me because you think I can get you booze, right?” she asks.

The look on Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer’s face says it all.

Beth basks in Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer’s discomfort for a moment longer before leaning back in her chair again, crossing her arms and tilting the chair back on its back two legs. “Make a list of what you want and tell me what time to be there.”

Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer breaks out into a relieved smile, pushes herself up out of the seat across from Beth, and heads back over to the table where her people are waiting. Beth waits until she’s sure they’re not looking before she lets her chair fall back to the ground and buries her nose back in her anatomy textbook.

…

The fence is easy to fix. The house takes more work, but eventually you’ve got it looking less like a gigantic turd and more like an average human dwelling. She plants flowerbeds under the front windows. Ninety percent of everything she puts in there dies, but it’s the thought that counts. 

She's beautiful. The baby, when she arrives, is beautiful. Your home is beautiful. Your life is beautiful, and perfect, like a Norman Rockwell painting or one of those collectible china figurines old ladies like to keep around their houses. It's perfect. It's beautiful. It's so far removed from anything you recognise as 'real life' that it scares you.

You never claimed to be perfect. (Just cooler. Smarter. Better.) And love's a little like cocaine. It keeps taking more and more to get you high. 

...

“I don’t get why it’s supposed to be such a classic, anyway. It’s just some jerk acting all superior and whining about how much his perfect life sucks.” Heather (or maybe Jennifer) sits back on the log, tossing her bush of curls over one shoulder. The firelight-shadows turn her laughing face grotesque. “The only way this book could possibly be as good as everybody says it is is if Holden gets punched on the last page.”

“Hey, you just don’t get it,” the polo-shirted young Adonis that Beth thinks is Lucas protests, withdrawing the arm he’d wrapped around Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer’s shoulders.

“What, because I’m a girl?” Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer teases, poking possibly-Lucas in the middle of the chest with one finger, and possibly-Lucas shrugs.

“I’m just saying, it’s a novel about the fundamental pathos of existence and the inescapable sadness of the human condition,” possibly-Lucas rattles off, like he’s reading it from a textbook, and Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer bursts out into a fresh fit of giggles.

“Oh shut up, Mr. Winters isn’t here to see you kissing his ass.” She gives possibly-Lucas another halfhearted shove in the middle of his chest, before leaning in to rest her head there, still giggling. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get that letter of recommendation to Harvard if you admit that Holden Caulfield is a giant jerk.”

Possibly-Lucas just laughs, and nuzzles his face into Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer’s hair. Beth takes another sip from her can of soda, stares into the fire. It’s kind of fascinating how the burning logs don’t seem to visibly change, even while they’re being consumed.

“Ugh, what are you two, teachers?” the dark-haired girl who might be named Jennifer complains, from the other side of the bonfire. “We should be having fun, not talking about stupid Catcher in the Rye.”

“She’s got a point,” Heather-or-maybe-Jennifer giggles, through a mouthful of hair.

Possibly-Lucas nods, and then calls, “Hey! Beth! Truth or dare!”

Beth stares into her drink. On her desk back at home, the latest module for the correspondence course she’s taking on organic chemistry is sitting, waiting. She can’t think of anywhere she’d want to be less than here.

“Dare,” she says, to her soda.

…

The show’s in the shitty basement of a shitty dive bar and, looking at the crowd, you think you’ll be lucky if you can play two sets and get out of here without anybody chucking a Molotov cocktail at the stage. 

You told her things were picking up. That you had some real promising prospects on the horizon. That you’d let the fading dye job grow out. That you’d get a real job. Take out patents on some inventions, sell them to the highest bidder. That at the very least you’d start playing some places that actually paid. Weddings, and shit.

You didn’t exactly lie.

But here, tonight, it’s cheap beer and bad weed and stony glares and a bassline that thrums like a heartbeat. Here it’s a dusty spotlight and a guitar that you play like you’re making love to it, because maybe, maybe it’s the only lover who’ll ever understand you. Who’ll never chain you down.

(there’s a difference between fucking and making love. you think maybe you’ve only ever done the second one onstage, with a screaming crowd and a guitar.)

You promised her. You promised, and the baby needs new clothes and shit and the upstairs toilet hasn’t worked for a month and the fence is starting to fall down again but here you are, in a shitty basement, playing a shitty punk show. Because you need this. Everything back home is glossy and pastel and perfect, and you just need this one goddamn thing in your perfect fucking life that still feels raw, still feels broken, still feels real.

She catches your eye halfway through the second set. Headbanging along, like your shitty garage band is the fucking Stones or some shit. Cherry red mohawk nearly a foot tall, bleeding hairspray in shining trails down her face. Almost looks like she's crying. Like agony. Like ecstasy. Like you're playing her and not just the guitar.

You think, afterwards, that it's the best show of your goddamn life.

...

Somebody brought a boom box. Somebody brought hot dogs. Somebody brought half the football team, and the cheer squad, and somebody thought it would be cool to see how big they can build the fire.

Beth can feel the heat of it on her face from five feet away, can feel the cold of the sea air on her back. It’s almost cold enough that she wants to put her top back on. Almost, but not quite. Besides, the beer really does warm you up from the inside out.

(It’s a lie. Just like the confidence it fills her up with. It’s just blood rushing to the surface, losing body heat to the air even as it makes her feel warm. She could get hypothermia and die like this, and never even know she was cold.)

She sways, in time to the music, bumping hips with dark-haired probably-Jennifer-unless-that’s-Heather, spinning to stand face to face and letting her hips swivel with the beat. Probably-Jennifer’s wearing some kind of lipgloss that sparkles in the firelight, her lips full and slightly parted, her eyes half-closed. The fire is scorching hot and the beer is a warm glow in Beth’s veins and everything is soft, is distant, is safe.

Probably-Jennifer doesn’t even seem startled when Beth goes in for the kiss, just puts her hands (so warm, almost burning) on Beth’s hips and pulls her closer. It just feels natural, inevitable.

The cheers and hoots from all around them are the only reminder that it’s not.

Probably-Jennifer pulls back, flushed and grinning, a few strands of hair sticking to her glitter lipgloss.

Beth pulls away, from her, from the fire, and starts to tug her top back on.

…

You ditch your friends after the show and catch mohawk girl at the bar. Same old song and dance - buy her a few drinks, take her back to the van or the motel or her place, fuck her brains out, never see her again. Except something goes wrong somewhere and instead of taking her someplace where the two of you can get a little privacy, you end up at an all-night breakfast place. Maybe it's the looks you got from your two best friends, the only two other people in this vast, cold universe who've always had your back before. Maybe it's just that this is how you met the woman who's now your wife.

"We - we gonna fuck or what?" you blurt, as soon as that thought crosses your mind, and mohawk girl looks up like you just blasted an air horn in her ear.

"What, right now?" She waves her fork at her half-eaten waffle. "Can I finish this first?"

"Nope," you say, putting down your own fork with a clatter and pushing yourself out of the booth, crossing your arms over your chest and wishing you'd worn something with a little more intimidation factor than the navel-revealing neckline on this shirt. "Limited time offer. Take it or leave it."

Mohawk girl looks from you, to her waffle, back up at you again. She doesn't get up.

"Fine," you say, wishing you had something to throw, or shove, or smash, or slam.

Mohawk girl watches at first as you storm out of the restaurant, but by the time you reach the door, she’s gone back to her waffle.

...

The light and the heat and the music start to fade as Beth walks along the beach, her feet sliding in the sand, clutching her arms against the chill. There’s just enough of a breeze to ruffle her hair and raise goosebumps on her arms. She can’t quite feel her hands, and she’s not sure if it’s from the beer or the cold.

Everything seems very dark, at first, close to the bonfire. It's nearly impossible to see anything the firelight doesn't touch. Beth almost trips over a couple lying in the sand, in the middle of moving from making out into something else entirely. She shuffles farther away from the ring of firelight and from the rising moans of the couple she just left behind. The water is black as ink as it laps at the shore, and there doesn’t seem to be a horizon out there. Just endless void, as far as the eye can see and farther. Nothing and more nothing.

Beth wanders around one of the bigger rocks that dot the beach, shivering in its shadow as it blots out the firelight, and there is the sky.  

…

You don’t go home.

You don’t go back to the bar where your friends are almost definitely getting plastered, either. Instead, you get in your rustbucket of a car and start it, and then sit there, with the engine running. Trying to decide where to go, when you’ll have to be home by morning. Wondering idly what would happen if this falling-apart piece of shit you call a car had malfunctioned somehow and the tailpipe was plugged.

The radio’s on your favourite rock station, blaring “Highway to Hell”. You growl a little under your breath and wrench the knob, flipping feverishly through the stations until you find some mindless, banal pop song, and then throw the car into drive. It doesn’t really matter where you go. You just need to go.

The sky overhead is dark and endless and strewn with stars, an infinity of possible worlds, possible lives. If you didn’t know better, it would be beautiful. Awe-inspiring. Just plain inspiring. That eternal tableau of untamed possibility. If you didn’t know better, you’d believe that anything could be out there. That anything could happen. That you could be anything.

But you know better.

The pop song bops along for about thirty seconds before its polished, prepackaged bubbliness finally gets on your last nerve and you turn the radio off.

...

The ocean is a silent, freezing mirror, replete with the reflected cosmos.

The tide is loud, here, the muffled bass of the music and the occasional shout the only sounds from the bonfire that carry back to Beth. She looks back over her shoulder, sees the fire. From right beside it, it had been so big and bright and hot that it had seemed to fill the whole sky. She’s barely walked for five minutes, but looking back, it already seems tiny, dwarfed by the ceiling of endless, limitless stars. So insignificant. So infinitesimal.

…

The house is dark, the sky is going grey around the edges, by the time you pull back into the drive. You clip the corner of your white picket fence on your way in, knock the corner post askew. The fence lists like it’s almost as drunk as you are.

You kick at it on the way to the door, misjudge the distance. 

The lawn’s slick with early dew, and you barely avoid faceplanting into the flowerbed by overbalancing and landing flat on your ass instead.

…

“Hey, you’re – Beth, right? Beth Sanchez?”

The voice breaks the quiet rhythm of the tide lapping gently in and out, and Beth jumps. She hadn’t heard anybody coming up behind her, lost in the star-studded expanse of forever. She realizes, for the first time, that her feet are freezing. “Yes. And yes, I did take my top off, and yes, I did kiss a girl. No, I won’t repeat either performance unless you bring me another beer, and even then, no promises.”

The boy standing back on the beach stuffs his hands in the pockets of his knee-length shorts with forced casualness, looking anywhere but Beth’s face. “Actually, I recognized you because I think we have chemistry together.” He turns his head to grin at her, pulling both hands from his pockets to point in her direction like he’s waiting for her to laugh at his incredibly witty punchline.

It takes Beth a moment to process. “Third period, right? You’re the guy who’s always asking about covalent bonds.”

Covalent bond guy deflates a little, shrinking around his smile. He stuffs his hands back in his pockets, shuffling over to where the water laps at the shore. “Jerry. It’s Jerry. What’re you doing all the way out here, anyway? Party’s back by the fire…” The way he says it is almost more of a question than an invitation.

Beth turns back out to the ocean. “Did you want something?”

“Well, I saw you walking away from the bonfire, and, I don’t know, just wondered what you were up to.” He shrugs. “With…your…bare feet in the water. Isn’t that cold?”

“You get used to it,” Beth says.

“Well, if you say so,” covalent bonds guy – Jerry – says, and then there’s a rustle and the scrunch of sand underfoot, and his voice coming up behind her. “Perfect night for a little oh holy fuck that’s cold.”

Beth can’t help but smile as he dances back along the beach, away from the surf, like the soles of his feet have been burned. “I tried to warn you.”

“What are you, a polar bear?” Jerry grasps his upper arms, hunching over shivering, his skinny chest glowing pale in the dim starlight.

“Maybe,” Beth says. “I mean, there might be some polar bear DNA in there. I was grown in a lab.”

Jerry stares at her like she’s just grown a second head.

“You’re joking, right,” he says, and Beth just grins. “Ha. Hilarious.”

“Almost as good as your chemistry line,” Beth shoots back.

Jerry lets out a discontented huff, and thankfully, finally, shuts up for a couple of seconds.

“Well, I guess skinny dipping is out,” he says, just when Beth is starting to relax again. “What a beautiful night for stargazing, though.”

“There’s no moon,” Beth agrees.

Jerry nods, and for once, says nothing, looking up instead. There’s something a little wistful in his expression, and Beth catches herself thinking that he’s not actually bad-looking, as generic teenage boys go.

“Don’t nights like this just make you want to be in love?” he asks, without looking at Beth, and if he gets any more blatantly sappy Beth’s going to drown him.

“Most of those stars died trillions of years ago,” she says, maybe a little less sharp than she intended, because Jerry looks at her and smiles.

“Not for us, they didn’t,” he says, and holds out a hand in Beth’s direction.

There’s smoke on the salt breeze and the distant sounds of laughter. Overhead, the stars glitter cold through the atmosphere.

Oh, what the hell, Beth thinks, and starts to wade up out of the surf. What’s the worst that could happen?

…

Your daughter’s asleep, her tiny chest rising and falling peacefully, her little fat baby face wrinkled up in a frown. She hiccups loudly as you turn to leave the nursery, and you freeze, holding your breath. She doesn’t cry, though, just looks through you with those enormous eyes that you’re biologically programmed to find adorable, before blinking them closed again and turning her face away. Her tiny thumb finds its way into her tiny mouth, and then she’s fast asleep again.

You exhale, and try not to trip over anything as you creep back out of the room.

The lamp on the bedside table on your wife’s side is lit, but she’s passed out with her face smooshed into the pillow, a book half-sliding out of her grip. You think about taking it from her and putting it on the bedside table, decide against it. You’d only wake her up.

You strip, as quietly as you can, and only stub your toe on the nightstand once before turning out her light and falling into bed beside her. The dark and the quiet settle down on you like six feet of black earth, thick and suffocating.

Your last conscious thought is that love’s a little like cocaine. Even when you know it’s killing you, you still can’t quit.

[oops-my-fingers-slipped]

Finish the Story (Part 1)

Author: Admin Lex Characters: BTS + you Pairing: Namjoon X Reader X Taehyung Genres: Fantasy, Angst, Fluff, Romance POV: First Person + Taehyung POV Description:
You offered to help Namjoon refurbish his old bookshop and in the process you find a peculiar book. Unknowingly, you end up diving head-first into a world of ink and parchment unlike your own. There, you meet a boy trapped in the bindings of literature and your life changes forever. I was followed into the bookshop by quarrels of Autumn’s leaves and the North Wind’s children dancing away with ribbons of my hair. The shop’s wooden door swung closed, shutting out the world outside but kept hundreds preserved in the room before me. Though tall oak bookshelves lined every wall of the store, thousands of books piled up in precarious stacks rising almost to the ceiling. Blinding rays of sun from the sky-light windows struck the mountains of literature and illuminated the specks of dust orbiting the air. In the back left corner sprouted an Acacia tree, coiling itself around a wooden beam, spiraling upwards towards the roof windows. It’s sunset-colored leaves joyfully basked in the sun amitting from the glass. However stunning the tree appeared, dead leaves from previous seasons decorated the floor and crunched beneath my leather boots as I approached the front desk.
Noticing no one behind the counter, I began to call, “Nam-” before a heavy thud sounded from under the polished wood followed by a muttered curse. Surely enough, Namjoon emerged from under the desk, scratching his head of lilac-purple hair with a pained look on his face. I failed to restrain a loud chuckle that bubbled up from my diaphragm. Namjoon rolled his eyes and deadpanned, “Ha ha, very funny.” He eyed the four books enveloped in my arms and continued, “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Don’t tell me you finished them already.”
I smirked and replied, “I hate to break it to you but I’m only 3 more books away from beating your record of 16 in a month! You better step up your game. You’re getting your ass kicked by a sophomore.” I plopped the small stack of books down onto the counter and Namjoon slid the nearest one on its side, scanning the bar code suck to its spine. A curt “beep” was heard as each novel touched the device. “Well excuse me for having an entire bookstore to manage while you have all the free time to read in the world. Unlike you, I have responsibilities to handle and customers to deal with.” 
I looked around the shop, noticing how devoid of business it was.
“What customers?”
“You.”
The comment was meant to be sarcastic but a little pit of pity bloomed in my heart, knowing that I, in fact, was one of his only customers. I decided right then and there that I would no longer be the only one who’s footsteps echoed through this building every day, but rather the silence to be filled by constant turning of pages and friendly chatter about new releases. He needed customers and that’s exactly what he would get. “That’s exactly my point! I am your only regular client but”, I lowered my voice for emphasis, “that is about to change.”
Namjoon lifted his head, temporarily distracted from his task. “You’re so dramatic. Besides, I’m managing this place just fine without your help.”
I sighed and tried a different approach. “Uh-huh, if ‘managing a bookstore’ includes not picking up after your tree -heaven knows why you even have a tree in a bookstore-, not organizing your shelves, and there are so many dust clouds in here I can barely see three feet in front of me.”
I may have exaggerated a tad but I wasn’t necessarily wrong either. And he knew it. The roots of the tree had started to lift some of the floorboards and weave itself through the infrastructure. Eventually, the more damage the Acacia caused, the more it would cost to repair it and with no steady income, where would Namjoon find the funds to pay the fees? His predicament was challenging, to say the least.
I already made my point loud and clear so my voice softened a bit when I proposed, “Ya’ know I could help out around here if you’d like? For free, at least until you gain enough business.”
He scoffed at my offer, seeming unfazed by my my bluntness and challenged, “Do you honestly think you could handle this monstrosity?” Namjoon drummed his fingers against the table-top, obviously amused at my proposition.
Did he know something I didn’t? Probably.
Ignoring the thought, I lifted my chin high and said, “Challenge accepted. When do I start?” “Now.”
•~• It’s been three days and we’ve hardly made a dent in transporting every book to the back storage. Namjoon’s plan was to clear the shop of the literature temporarily until the interior was complete and restock the shelves later. So we began with the cities of stacked books towering over ten feet….
It was a start.
A very slow, gradual start. And the finish line seemed light years away.
The “free time” Namjoon claimed I had was nonexistent, now occupied by long hours of organizing and sorting through endless amounts of novels. The more days that flew by, the more our hard work progressed and the prouder we became. The time after school to long after dark were spent in the soon-to-be-bookstore with only each other as company.
I’ve always thought of Namjoon as ‘the purple-haired dude who runs my favorite bookstore’, that is, until he quickly became the person I spent the most time socializing with. The long nickname shortened when I began to refer to him as a newfound friend. It was almost impossible not to grow this fond of him when we worked together striving toward the same goal, not to mention the shared tastes in books and writing. His company kept the boredom at bay when working and though I wouldn’t dare admit it, I started to look forward to our extended conversations, unpopular theories, or book recommendations. To put it simply, maybe fixing up this old outdated bookstore would blossom both the business of the company and our overall relationship.
Due to Namjoon’s undeniable whit, we eventually developed shifts where every few hours we would switch off between finishing up schoolwork and progressing the bookshop. The system deemed itself very effective, as we both managed to maintain our spotless GPAs.
This particular night, I sorted books sat on the newly-swept hardwood floor, the moon’s silver shadow casted down from the skylight windows cloaking my hands as I worked. Tonight seemed like a regular evening until I reached for another novel, expecting a smooth book jacket to meet my fingertips but, instead, felt the velvet fabric of a book unlike any other. My eyes landed upon a hard-cover book wrapped delicately in crimson-red velvet. The title glistened a radiant gold and read: Finish the Story. I explored its exterior, searching for an author’s name but none was found. I also noticed how the spine didn’t posses a bar code stuck to its back.
Hmm, that’s odd. Maybe this is one from Nam’s personal collection…
The spine cracked as I opened the cover to reveal the title page, which was decorated in florals of bright scarlet roses sprouting thorns of gold. The blooms of flowers dripped black ink from their buds. The artwork was absolutely, positively marvelous and don’t get me wrong, I’m not an artist but the time and effort to paint this must have taken decades. I admired it a few more seconds before forcing myself to flip to the first chapter.
Compared to the art coating the title page, the chapter page seemed mundane. Regular script ran from one side to the next just any other book. Still a bit skeptical about the art, I turned a single page and sure enough, I gaped in awe at the scene that beheld me.
Another picture enraptured my attention. A glowing castle made entirely out of bronze nails and plates loomed over rolling hills of ruby red poppies, making it appear aflame. The sky was painted with varieties of violets, dark blues, and indigos. The two color schemes clashed with one another so perfectly, I almost didn’t notice the lone fox that parted the poppy fields curving in the direction of the palace. The animal’s head turned towards the corner of the page, almost looking…. angry? I followed its eyes over to the bottom left corner where a man sat back looking up at the sky, his neck craning so eager to touch the indigo painted stars. He looked so carelessly free while the fox’s eyebrows furrowed in irritation.
I let a little giggle escape at the bit of absurdity.
What a peculiar sight!
Suddenly, my eyes darted back to the man sitting at the corner of the page, catching a glimpse of movement. To my surprise, he no longer looked up at the sky but instead stared right at me, one ebony eye charmingly winked.
Huh?!?
I wasted no time slamming the book shut.
Ok, it’s official. I’m going completely insane. Maybe these long work hours are getting to me. Yeah, that’s probably it. Right?
However I may try to convince myself that I hallucinated what I saw… I couldn’t help but wish that it hadn’t been my imagination and that something incredible was about to happen. But that’s ridiculous.
Even so, I still found myself placing the book in my bag, swinging it over my shoulder, and briskly began walking down the street to my apartment. •~•
“Ouch! Hey!”
Taehyung flew backwards from the impact of his book rudely being slammed shut. His face was now thinly coated in yellow pollen from the poppy field. It tickled his nose, forcing a sneeze to rip out from his nostrils. “Aachoo!”
The fox bounded over the sea of red and gold to stand before Taehyung, a disapproving growl hummed from his throat.
“You didn’t get to your position on time! And to make matters worse you moved, you moved. This was our first reader in ages and you had to go ahead and blow it!”
Taehyung ran his nimble fingers through his hair, ready to sit through another lecture about how to always stand statue-still when a new reader opens their story. “Ah, I’m sorry Jin. We just haven’t had a reader in forever and I thought it might be entertaining to mess with them a bit.”
He stood up as a small smile carved itself across his features.
Jin flicked his tail, not taking this for a valid excuse. “As funny as that was, next time please do your job as I’m sure Yoongi and the others are doing just fine. Try learning a thing or two from their excellent example.”
Taehyung raised his eyebrows slightly and giggled at the memory of his companions, “Last time I saw them, Kookie and Jimin were playing frisbee with the moon on page 84 and got it stuck in a palm tree. Your right, they are great exam-”
The fox bolted to the end of the page and glanced back at the man, warning him about his job as a book character one last time before he leapt through the pages, stopping on page 84, solving yet another problem.
Sighing, Taehyung plopped back down into the poppy pillows growing around him and peered up at where the reader’s face would usually gaze from. He wondered if the new visitor would open the book again. She was quite interesting, after all. Then again, all the readers were. Each one completely different from the last. Each one more exiting, new, and exotic. Each one, you know not trapped in a book like him and the other characters were. Each one free.
Taehyung knew that it was dangerous to be hopeful, to wish that the girl opened the book again. Because, well, after the little stunt he pulled today she will most likely not. But the little tug on his heart told him that maybe, just maybe she would investigate his book again. The way her eyes glittered and flew from one page to the next gave him the impression that she was a bit too curious for her own good. But, no these thoughts had no place consuming his head. He shut them out and instead focused on the stars above, daring to pretend they were her eyes.