#pls remedy I miss Control

[velvetjune]

[ID: Set of 8 screenshots from Alan Wake 2. The first photo is a door numbered 211 at the Oceanview Hotel with an upside down pyramid painted on top. The second is a computer screen with tabs for Marshall Security, Mail, and Media. Marshall Security is open with the subheading of ‘Control and Beyond’ and an upside down triangle at the top. It lists that the security door lock, CCTVs, and medical wing alarms are on. There is a button to unlock a door.

The third photo is a book with a cover of Casper Darling smiling and the title ‘My interpretation of many worlds’ by Dr. Casper Darling. The cover’s background is a swirl. The fourth is an ashtray and a pack of cigarettes next to it. The package has an upside down pyramid with ‘black pyramid’ typed on it. The words ‘super strong,’ ‘relax,’ and ‘enjoy’ are listed on the pack.

The fifth is a stack of books from Logan’s room entitled ‘The Kind Stranger,’ ‘The Very Old House,’ and ‘The Ribbon-Hearted Girl.’ A book for Nordic tales and folklore is displayed in front. The sixth photo is a drawing by Logan of her and her dad smiling and playing video games. The tv screen displays a fight with the Former, a one-eyed being, from Control.

The seventh is a neon light that reads ‘665 Neighbor of the Beast’. The eighth is a television with static showing and an image of Jesse’s face staring. Subtitles read ‘Jesse: Hello?’ End ID.]

Holding dearly onto every reference to Control in Alan Wake 2

[jesuscrab]

Alan Wake II - first thoughts, three hours in.

Just got to the start of chapter 3, still spoilering just in case.

(please dont disscus story details in comments/reblogs, thanks!)

IMPORTANT TOP THING: PERFORMANCE ISSUES: the audio keeps fucking skipping during cutscenes and i dont know why. i did the tricks all the wbesites said (move the game to SSD, play in fullscreen) but it keeps going on, which is extremly annoying. the issue is so common and big that i keep seeing guys on the internet complain about it! i want to beleive they are working on patches, but the game has been out for two two months now, and they still haven't acnowlaged the issues at all. Fuck, man. (the rest of the game plays good on my new gpu btw)

So, AW2 is basiclly a resident evil now. I knew it was gonna be a surivial horror, but the way the game and it's puzzles have been set up so far is just like from an RE game, even how parts of the UI or animations look. Not that i mind - remedy is a studio that wears their inspirations on their sleeve and isint afraid to yoink good ideas.

The game plays very nice so far. The atmosphere, the story... it's all very unique and interesting. All the cult stuff is capivating, and i was legit suprised to see nighngale brought back so early and in such a way. In some parts i feel like the story moves too qucikly, with our protagonits accepting the supernatural way too quickly, but maybe its for the better? we don't have to see our characters deny what's right in front of them for hours, it's all clear from the very start. And control did the same thing, with our main gal going along with all the nonsensical crap thrown at her.

speaking of the plot, the case feature is cool. helps organize plot in your head, every goal and thing you should do is clearly expalined and shown right in front of you, even forced for you to come to conclusions yourself. nice. way better then deadly premoniton did it.

Combat is weird so far. i only gotten into two fighting scenarios (not counting the nightingale "boss fight") and they were cool, but i felt like something was off. dodging seems basiclly useless now as enemies can grab you out of it, so the shootout consisted of me running around and picking the taken from the distance. is this the way the game wants me to play it? i don't mind that the game plays differently and more horror-like, but i wish the dodge wasn't so pathetic. boosting your flashlight seems a bit unreliable too, but that could be a set up problem.

i'm trying not the be too negative, since i had a very similar problem with control. in that game, the fights seemed extremly hard and annoying UNTIL you get all the abilites. then the game and it's combat really starts to shine, with flying around, grabbing missles out of the air, doghing, shielding, all that jazz. it's so dynamic and fun then, with all the weird and creative enemy types. i hope that all the weirdness of the combat is just exepriencing some growing pains and it will all fade when i get fully used to how it all works and unlock some upgrades/weapons.

minor complaint - the fbc stuff is, how i predicted, too prominent. don't look so weird at me! i don't mind control referneces and relevance, but from the very beggining of the game it just feels like too much, yknow? the closed gate was fun (and sets up the dlc content), the station and dialouge with casey about it was cute, but it feels like too early for this sort of cameo. sprinkle it in, be subtle - just like control did it with alan! well, until the dlc, but that's excusible since it was an extended teaser for AW2. the previous refrences were there, and a lot of them, but they werent all thrown in the players face. it also feels like those who didint play control would be missing out on important lore and jokes, which would confuse them, which is not great.

in summary, the game seems good so far! there is a lot of weirdness i still have to get used to, but im sure it will all wear down along the way when i play more. I just hope the damn issues will be fixed until then...

[parkers-gal]

masterlist

requests | closed to complete current requests <3

last updated | aug 5th, 2021

do not repost my work anywhere !! respect this please. | fics are not ordered in any particular way. these headers are mine so pls don’t use/take them

tom holland

insomnia - reader can’t get to sleep; tom finds out why

driving in the rain - fluffy dinner date and rainy drive back home

workouts and warmth - when all tom wants is some after-workout cuddles

from across the living room - announcing your engagement to your families

the one - you want to move out and get your own place as a couple, but tom doesn’t. nikki talks to him. 

anything for the twins - tom massages reader’s boobies during her period

moms, makeouts, and mishaps - nikki walks in during your makeout sesh

simple acts of intimacy - a fluffy 3.1k words worth of blurbs

silver surprises - the reader surprises tom at a premiere

twenty questions - questions ensue after tom & reader get stuck in an elevator

my gut - spinoff of twenty questions with claustrophobic!reader (tw/ anxiety + attacks)

stealth mode - tom & reader scaring each other

unicorns vs pegasuses - tom shuts the reader up by kissing them

a good story - tom meets reader at a meet & greet — friendships blossom to lovers

deal breaker - tom wants kids, but the reader does not

his lap - reader asks for help in overcoming an insecurity; tom misreads the situation

pool day - pool day w/ tom + the boys

hot - the reader picks a certain song that reminds her of tom - the boys go wild

grounded by rocks - tom talks about you in an interview for cherry

your hands - when all he wants is a simple head massage

late flights - in which tom takes too much time with the fans

nobody wanted to - where only one person makes it out alive

way more than 50 - the hollands trick the reader into thinking they did something they weren’t supposed to 

why [ pt ii ] - sweet cupcakes, and a not so sweet breakup

what looks suspicious - nikki doesn’t exactly approve of tom dating the reader

something sweet - reader drops off small gifts while tom’s on set

he remembers - when tom finds the letter

missed you - reuniting w/tom after four long months

soft gangsta - tom tries to dress edgy; the reader is unconvinced

the shoe game - reader & tom play the shoe game at their wedding

too much - when the reader has a rough time with work, tom comforts them

losing grip [ pt ii ] - a losing battle between the reader and a hereditary disease causes heartbreak

your captain america - protective!tom holland of young reader (age gap)

sexy genius - reader is a fan of (and meets) jake gyllenhaal

teddy bear cuddles - tom wears an oversized hoodie

nonsense - the boys think the reader is meddling with tom’s work

circles before yourself - rule #2 - osterfield!reader gets caught with tom

seventeen times - when the reader is having a hard time in lock down, tom tries to help (TW // depression)

pixie dust hair - tom assures insecure!reader that the pixie haircut looks good <3

a few more months - reader passes out during a run; tw // excessive exercising

tiktok au’s

body ody ody - tom gets a little jealous over a few social media comments 

sweats in the supermarket - getting tom hard when he wears sweats

put your records on - trying not to kiss each other first

mood killer - saying dirty things into tom’s ear

say it back - pranking tom by not saying ily back to him

two different ways - tom choking the reader to get two different reactions 

brutal - doing the “did you mean to post this?” trend on tom 

worst thirty minutes of my life - playing a drinking game with tom to see who gives into cuddles first

my girl’s cuddles - crawling into tom’s lap 

even - buying hot leggings & taping tom’s reaction 

goofball - a silly way to reveal reader’s pregnancy to tom 

end the debate - “i found out why my boobs are small” trend

slam the car door - doing the car door prank on tom 

water bottle wars - the boys ask you and tom questions about each other. wrong answers result in sprayed water 

get you back real good - you & the boys prank tom after watching a scary movie 

peachy - sighing / moaning in front of tom playing video games to get his reaction

my princess - tom does a tiktok where he guesses all your answers to everyday questions

dad!tom

needles and needs - when scarlet has to get shots, you realize she may not be the only one that needs comforting

all my girls - scarlet meets her baby sister for the first time (dad!tom)

everything i love about u - tom is afraid baby red might hate him for leaving home too much

a little extra help - stepdad!tom being the best dad to your daughter

through the tears - pregnant!reader goes into labour, and baby holland meets the family

first feed - tom watches you breastfeed for the first time

warmth from the love - baby holland’s first Christmas

first words - baby holland speaks for the first time

breaking the internet - when your pregnancy announcement crashes multiple apps/websites (pregnant!reader)

breaking the internet... again - when baby holland breaks the internet

boyfriends and brunch - when jade brings home her boyfriend (aged!up)

big sister + how are babies made - telling scarlet about the baby on the way (pregnant!reader)

too many kids - the reader’s dad has some commentary about the twins

mumma’s girl - tom gets jealous when scarlet isn’t a daddy’s girl

angels - a little skin to skin time with his best girl

family man - after a nasty breakup, tom finds out you had his child

cheesy uncles - telling paddy he’s going to be an uncle

ag!reader (more to come !!)

y’all really get nasty - tom and the fans discuss ag!reader’s songs

my favorite things - ag!reader performs in front of the mcu cast at the grammy’s

34 + 35 - the boys react to reader’s new song(s)

34 + 35 remix - the boys reacting to the remix

his remedy - the boys react to positions deluxe

neglected - AG!reader breaks up w tom because of their job; tom searches for answers

low-key wants him - reader talks about how much nonna (+ her fam) loves tom

see u soon - reader interacts with tom while on stage for the swt

a few spilled secrets - AG!reader performs on jimmy fallon’s show.. tom and her confess a few secrets

for the first time - when the reader breaks down crying while singing about her ex, tom is there to comfort her

dance with me, rain on me - reader has a hard time on set, tom to the rescue

every tomorrow - the first album release night after your breakup

here we go again - introducing tom (+ the boys) to your celebrity friends

condoms or safety nets - the boys react to AG!reader’s song “safety net”

we’re not engaged - AG!reader announcing to the world why they no longer have a fiance... (fluffy)

the late late show - AG!reader & tom do spill your guts or fill your guts

pain from pleasure - dad!tom goes through a birth simulator — controlled by the reader

never have i ever - tom & the reader play a game on the late late show

fluffy hair - ag!reader has a zoom interview with zach sang. tom makes an appearance

fighting off the haters - ag!reader and older!tom holland (age gap) attend an award show after going public

run your hands thru my hair - tom reacts to ag!reader’s song “my hair”

stick to acting - tom tries to make a beat for ag!reader

practically twins - reader meets sebastian & anthony at comic con

damn lucky - black!reader wears her hair naturally during an interview

what a piece - reader talks about tom related songs & tattoos

flip it - tom talks about reader in an interview

at the door - older!reader & tom fight off haters

a headcannon of ag!reader being a marvel cast member

a headcannon of tom & the reader attending the avengers endgame premiere

styles!reader (more to come !!)

bathroom kisses - makeout sessions with tom and styles!reader in the bathroom

yeah, he is - tom holland x styles!reader meet the styles family; protective older brother harry makes an appearance

unparalleled love - older brother harry styles makes a speech at reader’s wedding

grilled - date night for tom & styles!reader is a bit difficult with two kids; older brother!harry to the rescue

baby showers and brothers - dad!tom & styles!reader are going to be parents

potential boyfriend - tom has a crush on the reader when they first meet

ts!reader (more to come!!)

trust me - tom & the reader defend her after nikki doesn’t approve

your london boy - tom & co. + the world reacts to “london boy”

boy of my dreams - tom being proud of the reader for winning a grammy

rapper!tom

tom records your sounds during sex for his music (hc)

tom talks about you in an interview

concepts: one , two , three

professor!tom

my pretty girl - tom gets jealous when reader gets many valentines

other reader tropes

cherry - reader is a screenwriter for tom’s upcoming movie

no shouting - singer!reader needs some help after paparazzis are too much (based on a video of tom)

pregnancy belly - actress!reader has to wear a pregnancy belly for her role, and the boys tease tom about when it’ll be real

we march - actress!reader being a huge feminist

passions & pediatricians - pediatrician-to-be!reader meets tom

politics - reader’s granpa is joe biden (requested) and tom meets him

extra support - psychiatrist!reader helps tom on the set of cherry

you made it big - tom holland x actress!reader at the after party

partition - the boys react to famous!reader singing partition

senorita - singer!reader makes a music video with shawn, who’s tom’s new best friend

miniseries 

boomerang: one , two , three , four [completed]

peter parker

making amends

➢ enemies to lovers ; college!peter x super soldier!reader ; 30k words ; sorta slow burn

cheeky guy, favorite thighs - college!peter doing a tik tok challenge — between the reader’s thighs [tik tok au]

a little nicer - doing the prank on peter (”you could’ve been a little nicer to me today”)

start searching - first make out sessions with our best boy :)

hidden hickeys - the avengers think innocence of peter, until they’re proven wrong

the team - part two of hidden hickeys; reader meets the avengers

all of you - late night talks about your future with peter :’)

like you wouldn’t believe - reader tells mj about her & peter’s awesome sex

slip from my hands - roommate!peter comforts the reader after a nightmare

i’d wait for her - college!peter parker needs to come to terms with you and your boyfriend

shut up and kiss me - soft make out sessions with peter :)

all the good things in the world, and i get you - insecure!reader needs a little reassuring 

modern chivalry - peter being a gentleman on the subway

eggnog and mistletoe - peter helps you love the holidays

the force awakens? it sleeps - a little extra comfort & care from our favorite baby boyfriend 

a prince - wonder woman!reader meets spider-man (& avengers) in a mission

steve rogers fics - peter finds you reading fanfiction abt steve rogers

fanboy!peter

fanboys and bracelets - fanboy!peter parker goes to famous!singer!reader’s meet and greet

fanboys and phone numbers - fanboy!peter parker continuation 

showing around - fanboy!peter gets VIP access; some dancing ensues

stark!reader + avengers!reader

if you knew feelings - the avengers want you & peter to break up

sleeping - peter misinterprets a few important questions

the may to your ben - college!best friend!peter parker x stark!reader fluff

race ya - peter confesses his feelings for rogers!reader after a mission — on comms

frat bathrooms - stark!reader joins the avengers where she sees college!peter, the boy she slept with at a frat party

rainy days - reader doesn’t like rainy days, a certain wall-climber changes their mind

already got her - jealous!peter makes a public confession

flustered!peter

a nervous one - flustered!peter parker sees cheerleader!reader in her uniform

one day soon - flustered!peter parker x affectionate!reader

all better - flustered!peter parker does some lab flirting with reader

dad!peter + pregnant!reader

unplanned  [ part ii ] - reader gets pregnant... breaks up with peter to avoid it all

burrito wraps - reader worries that baby parker might be cold

a name to remember - latine!reader & peter give their girl a special name

you’re magic - a certain wall crawler hears two heartbeats

sgt. bucky barnes

first cuddles - bucky asks to cuddle for the first time

harry holland

golden light, the love of my life - the boys tease harry —on a live video— for being whipped

it won’t f^cking open - harry lends a helping hand

how much i - those three magical words are exchanged for the first time

cuddly koala moments - time the reader just needed harry’s warmth

anything for hands - the reader cuts harry’s hair on instagram live

your other best friend - the reader is sam’s new friend, but harry thinks they like tom instead

you’re my anchor - harry has an anxiety attack, but the reader knows what to do

what’s his [ pt ii ] - when everything thinks the reader should date tom instead, harry snaps

whipped fries - harry brags about the reader winning the pub quiz for them

tell me, show me - the reader makes harry flustered by playing w/the strings from his sweatpants

keep your cool - tom setting u up with his brother // nikki being wary

ag!reader

you’re such a dream to me — ag!reader writes r.e.m. about harry

harry styles

intoxicating - soft bubbles baths with long haired!harry 

frayed braids - reader braids long haired!harry’s hair

others:

harrison osterfield

not anymore - when harrison comes back from filming, he’s determed to win the reader’s heart

irreversible - when relationships fall apart, people fall apart. (infidelity)

circles before yourselves - rule #1  - harrison x osterfield!reader (sister) when brothers talk, bad things begin

think of her - harrison asks your family for their blessing [holland!sister]

steve harrington

together not never - steve discovers the reader is pregnant

[lovingjeankirstein]

hi!! how are you? I was wondering if you could do some dating headcanons with fugo? thanks!¡!¡!¡

OMG MY FIRST ANON!! HI!! tysm for requesting <3

i haven’t dug into his characterization, but i think i have a firm understanding. i love him sm.

gn! reader. enjoy :))

TW: trauma, hinted sexual assault, mention of anger (pls tell me if i missed any)

dating fugo panacotta headcanons

i’m actually so excited to write for fugo BDJAJDIWKKD

with how he grew up, i don’t think fugo would pay much mind to his feelings until someone pointed it out; like bruno or nara.

nara: “oooh fugooo are you making goo goo eyes at y/nnnn???”

fugo: “??? no? focus on your math problem you’ve been on it for a while.”

bruno: “fugo, correct me if i'm wrong, but i think you have feelings for y/n.”

(obvs he denies it but the thought lingers in his head for a long time before he admits it.)

fugo is v caring for others (ie. finding and taking narancia to bucciarati) so he cares for you too.

at first he wouldn’t show care with physical affection, but through acts of service and words of affirmation.

he has a way with words. he'll know exactly how to make you feel appreciated and flustered.

nicknames include: cara/caro and bella/bello. he'd also use your actual name.

he won’t do much physical touch at first, esp because of the college professor thing, so you help him warm up to physical affection (if you like physical touch)

in front of the gang, he wouldn’t do much initiating, but if you put your head on his shoulder he’ll put his head on top of yours.

not a big pda show-er but he glances at you time to time and sits next to you during meals.

i bet he’s a hand kisser. not in front of others, but in private he’s so sweet <3

I LITERALLY HEADCANON THIS SO HARD: you call him pudding occasionally bc of his name pls.

he’d be like :| at first but after a couple times he’d pay no mind to it.

back to the caring thing, he makes sure you’re okay mentally and physically.

if something is wrong physically, he’s so smart he has sm remedies to help you get better.

if something is wrong mentally, he’ll comfort you the best he can by stating the facts of the situation (with sympathy ofc) but he’ll do anything you need him too.

he likes to tell you random facts throughout the day about things you’re doing

lowk used it to impress you when he had a crush on you

esp if you guys are just walking around naples. he likes to tell you a little history about the city.

he melts when you ask him about topics you want him to teach you about

he just sees the stars in your eyes and loves how passionate, invested, and eager you are.

his parents gave him trauma with their pressure and expectations, so i think he needs you to reassure him that he's enough and is doing enough.

again bc of how he grew up, he wasn’t used to feeling and showing love. you def taught him how to love 🥺

since he's new to the concept of love, he appreciates how understanding and patient you are with him.

he also makes sure you know he loves you very subtly.

fugo obvs loves and cares for you, but he doesn’t show or express it as openly as someone like mista or nara would.

i feel like he's the type to do little things that have a big effect and really show he loves you.

you def help him with his anger issues and his journey with learning how to control it better.

(needing to sit next to him while he tutors narancia so he doesn’t stab him with a fork again)

you literally calm him down sm. like just a look at you or you saying his name will help him cool down pls.

he’s def more patient and in control of his anger with you.

you guys would get into arguments but most aren’t that serious and are just disagreements.

WOULD NOT LET PURPLE HAZE NEAR YOU

purple haze still not so secretly lets himself out and he likes when you pet his head. literally drools sm at that.

purple haze likes nuzzling into you too.

all in all, fugo isn’t a perfect boyfriend, but he tries his best to make you feel loved :)

i hope you enjoyed anon! :D feel free to request more if you have any :)

i hope this was accurate enough. it's almost midnight so i lowkey gave up on editing. if there's some mistakes, apologies ahaha.

jjba masterlist

[your-average-genshin-enjoyer]

First Meeting

a/n: First writing in tumblr so pls don't atk me qwq Might have grammatic errors.

CHARACTERS: Xiao, Kazuha, Albedo and Heizou.

(--XIAO--🍃)

"If you look carefully amidst the cruelty of the world, you can see the pure and gentle dance of the wind and snow."

···

GIF by ventiluvr

I was watering some Qingxin flowers inside my greenhouse while controlling the coolness inside with my Cryo vision when suddenly, a figure came crashing into the greenhouse's roof and fell to some Qingxin flowers. "W-Who's there?!" I half yelled while summoning my weapon as I approached the limp figure on the floor of soil and Qingxins.

I stared at the figure in awareness and somehow, in awe as well.

It was a boy. He has yellow cat-like eyes that are as bright as the purest Cor lapis in Liyue, Raven hair with green highlights that flows softly with the wind, and porcelain white skin that was stained with red and black-greenish cuts. His appearance seemed to keep me in a weird trance, but I tried to ignore it as best as I can.

the boy struggled to get up as he starts to pass out from exhaustion. A demon suddenly appeared from the broken roof with a loud hiss, and starts to sprint and tried to harm the boy, but failed to do so as I blocked their attack with my weapon. I froze them in place with Cryo attacks. And after minutes of fighting, the demon perished with a loud screech.

I panted heavily, still exhausted from the fight as I drag the knocked out boy to a bench. I start to tend to his wounds with bandages and cool down his bruises with my Cryo vision. A few seconds later he suddenly opened his eyes widely and tried to wake up, only to fall back from the sharp pain of his wounds.

"Stay still, you're badly wounded, it'll get worse if you act rashly." I said warning him.

"A-Agghh... Tch, leave me alone, mortal. Those mortal remedy of yours is not gonna work on me. Let me be on my way now." He said harshly. He failed to wake up for the second time because I freezed his arms to the ground.

"I am no mortal, I am an Adeptus and the remedy I have is already tested to myself. So stay still." I replied back to him.

but this time, he manages to break free from mini ice structure and stands still for a few seconds to gain back his stability.

"*sigh* I see, be careful then. Although you are an Adeptus, it doesn't mean you should not be careful. And... thank you, for remedy." he said as he disappeared in a mist of black and green.

"....."

"I didn't even ask for his name yet...."

<-_KAZUHA_🍁->

"The world is full wonders and undiscovered beauty. Although I'm not sure where to go, the wind will lead me to the end."

"Hey Xiangling, Can I have one Black back perch stew?" I asked the navy haired girl with while catching my breath after running around completing Commisions.

"Of course Y/n! I'll go prepare it right now! " Xiangling said in a cheerful tone as she ran back to the kitchen to prepare my stew.

"Oh shucks, our fish stock ran out. Hey Y/n, sorry, our fish stock ran out and I'm busy watching the stall since father is out to get some ingredients, is it fine if you go grab some fish in the docks?" Xiangling asked in a sheepish tone.

"Oh sure, I'll go get the fish." I said as i walk out to get the fish after Xiangling hands me the mora for the fish.

"Hi there uncle Sun, Can I have the usual batch of fish for the Wanmin restaurant?" I asked the fisherman.

"Oh hey there miss Y/n, I'll go prepare the fish right away." said uncle Sun as he starts to wrap the fish up.

A sudden hard pat in my shoulder makes me tense up as a sharply turn around to see behind me.

"Y/n! AHHAHAHAHAHHHH long time no see there! how are you doing huh?"

Beidou appeared out of nowhere as she ask me her question while still stifling a laugh from my tenseness.

"OH SEVEN ARCHONS- huh, Beidou? *sigh* don't scare me like that, You almost gave me a heart attack." I sighed heavily, still shocked from her sudden shoulder pat.

"Ahahahahhh, still sensitive as ever huh, sorry about that. Wanna go visit the crew or go get some beer? You can come with me and Kazuha if you want to." Beidou offered.

"I don't know if I can at the moment, I'm a bit tired right now. Also, who's Kazuha?" I asked her in a confused manner.

"Oh my- I forgot I haven't introduced you to him yet AHAHAHAHH, Kazuha, come here! there's someone I want you to meet!" Beidou half yelled as a boy came walking towards Beidou.

He has eyes as red as ruby, creamy blonde hair and a red and white attire.

"*Sigh*, don't yell to loud beidou, you know you can just call me right? Who is the one you mention you want to introduce me to?" he sighed in a tired manner.

"Sorry sorry there, here. She's the one I want you to meet, her name's Y/n L/n, one of my best friends. " she said while pushing me in front of the boy as I break free from my staring on him.

"H-Hi there, nice to meet you Mr..."

"Kazuha. Kaedehara Kazuha, no need to call me Mr or anything formal." he said in a calm tone.

"Oh, ok then Kazuha. I'll go bring the fish to Xiangling for now, excuse me." I said nervously as I walked away from the two figure.

"oh god... why do I have to make a fool out of myself in front of him just now?!" I yelled in my mind as I gobbled down Xiangling's stew.









*->ALBEDO<-🧪*

"A line from chalk is the start of something new. If your willing to, will you witness the process with me?"

GIF by yumenosakiacademy

"Hmmm, the plant seems to be able to withstand Dragonspine's cold temperature. It's been 30 minutes now, I didn't expect the potion will have this much of an effect." I mumbled to myself as I take notes on the plant where I tested a warming potion on it.

I came back to my camp as I start to recreate the potion with what I assumed as the correct formula, when a sound of crunching snow from someone or something's footsteps break the silence.

"E-Excuse me, is it fine if I warm up in your camp for a bit?" a quiet voice of a female said nervously with chattering teeth.

"Oh, of course you can. Come here, I'll make you some hot drink now, and here's a towel to wipe the snow off, make yourself comfortable."

I said as I handle her a towel and start to cook some hot water.

"N-No need to make me a hot drink, I only need to heat up for a bit. T-Thank you for your help." the girl with green hair said shyly.

"Ah, please, I insist. It's freezing cold at the moment and I just so happen to have some ingredients for it. What would you like? Tea? Coffee? or hot Chocolate?" I asked the girl while getting 2 mugs from the shelf.

"Oh, I-I see. Uhh, I'll have one hot Chocolate if it's ok." the girl replied with a less tense tone.

"Ohh ok, here's the hot Chocolate, be careful, it's hot." I said while carefully handing the hot chocolate to the girl.

We sit together in silence as we sip our hot drinks for a few minutes.

"What are you doing in Dragonspine alone?" I asked the girl to break the silence.

"O-Oh, I was going out to a colleague's laboratory in here when suddenly, a Mitachurl starts chasing me, I ended up getting lost until I found your camp." said the girl in an embarrassed tone.

"Ohh i see. Well, feel free to stay here for as long as you like, make yourself comfortable. Do you need a first aid kit?" I asked the girl.

"Oh, n-no need for that, I'm ok." the girl said. We talk for a while while sipping our hot drinks. I introduced myself as she told me that her name is Sucrose, we continued the conversation for a while until a boy with blonde hair came looking for her.

"Sucrose? are you ok? why are you here?" the boy asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

"M-Mr. Albedo?! I-I'm sorry, I got lost and I ended up staying in this person's camp and-" Sucrose rant in a surprised and embarrassed tone.

"Ohh I see. It's fine sucrose, relax. I'd like to thank you for taking care of Sucrose Miss..." Albedo said in an awkward tone.

"Y-Y/n, call me Y/n. Spare the formalities aside Mr. Albedo." I stuttered.

"Y/n, ok. Call me Albedo then, no need to call me Mr. Albedo." Albedo said in a sheepish tone.

"O-Oh, ok then Albedo." I replied while scratching the back of my neck. "I hope we can get along well." I mumbled in my mind.









}~}~}--HEIZOU🔎-{~{~{

"People will continue to lie, but the wind will always speaks the truth. Let us follow the wind's whisper as we uncover the unlimited mask of lies."

GIF by kilruas

"L/n san! how's the case about the missing goods exported from Sangonomiya?" asked one of the Soldiers from the resistance.

"Oh, by the looks of the traces, it seems that it was stolen from villagers. But there was also traces of Tatarigami, so my hypothesis for now is that the culprit is the villagers that are affected by the Tatarigami." I stated to one of the Soldiers. "I'm gonna go check the conditions of the villagers." I said as I start to walk away.

"L-L/n san, do you need any Soldiers to accompany you on your journey? this may be dangerous considering how Tatarigami can affect mortals." One of the Soldiers stuttered.

"No need for any of you to accompany me, besides I want to take an evening stroll." I said while ignoring any other comments from the group and walks for 40 minutes or so.

After about 15 minutes of searching and tracking, I finally prove my hypothesis to be true as I see a group of villagers collecting the goods that seems to radiate some Tatarigami energy.

I walked to the villagers and start to communicate with them, only to be faced with an answer none other than violence.

I begin to knock some of the villagers down with my pyro vision when suddenly, a strong gust of wind blows onto my face almost blowing me away.

A male with maroon hair appeared out of nowhere and start to group the villagers together with what appears to be his Anemo vision.

"Seems like I'm not the only one tracking down the Tatarigami energy huh?" He said with a smug smile.

"Seems like it, you are?..." I asked awkwardly, facepalming at myself internally.

"Heizou, Shikanoin Heizou, a detective of the Tenryo commision. I assume you're a soldier from the resistance?" Heizou asked curiously.

"No. I am from the resistance, but I'm not a soldier. I have the same role as you Heizou san." I replied to him.

"Ohhh I see, rare to see someone on the same department as me. You've also made me found the answer to one of my questions so, would you like me to treat you to some food in Uyuu restaurant?" Heizou offered.

"I'm fine with it, but I'll pay for myself. Let's just eat lunch together and discuss about our jobs. I'd like to know more about you."

I replied back to him.

"Ok then, off to Uyuu restaurant we go~!" Heizou said in a singsong tone.

"He seems like an interesting character. I hope I'll get to know more about him..." I think to myself with joy since I made a new friend.

*~~~~*~~~~FINISH~~~~*~~~~*

[rhysismydaddy]

Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

______________________________________________

~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin. 

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had. 

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard. 

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian. 

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain. 

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting. 

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know. 

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying. 

“Konechno.” Of course. 

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again. 

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death. 

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman. 

My father is an arms-dealer. 

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy. 

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t. 

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty. 

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people. 

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly. 

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer. 

“Starik,” I tease. Old man. 

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York. 

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise. 

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase. 

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital. 

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait. 

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details. 

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé. 

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored. 

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him. 

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option. 

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room. 

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature. 

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more. 

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest. 

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name. 

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now. 

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected. 

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello. 

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield. 

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello. 

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction. 

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave. 

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck. 

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys. 

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official. 

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual. 

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it. 

_____________________________________________________

NEXT CHAPTER

Tags: @elorcan-trash @januarystears @emikadreams @sjm-things @santas-dwynwen @thebitchupstairs @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @shinya-hiiragi @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ireallyshouldsleeprn @highqueenofelfhame @rowaelinismyotp @nahthanks @ghostlyrose2 @lovemollywho @tillyrubes10 @claralady @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @thegoddessofyou @awesomelena555 @booksofthemoon @greerlunna @jlinez @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @masstrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

[imagine-lcorp]

Between Two Lungs (One Shot)

A/N: Hello dears, so here it is the infamous fic I’ve been writing. I really hope this fullfils my dream of crushing your hearts once again and that you have a fun time agonizing over this final choice. Because yes, I’ve made this a multiending fic...As always, remember to tell me what you think, is it something you want me to keep doing for other fics? Also, how did you feel after this? pls let me know. Also i made this PLAYLIST if you want to add some feeling to this while reading... Enjoy! 

Lena Luthor x R/Hanahaki AU//Word Count: 3,464

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

It is possible to die of a broken heart.

You look it up somewhere in the internet. It's similar to a heart attack, caused by a very strong and emotionally stressful event. The death of a loved one, a breakup, a betrayal. It's treatable and rarely fatal. Following the recommendations of your doctor, you can make a full recovery within weeks. Still, it is possible to die of it.

You don't have a broken heart. You wish you had one. Because love, the one only you feel, is growing inside of you and it is much worse than that.

Thankfully, compared to others your condition it's not as painful as it could be.

You have heard about people with roses inside them, how their thorns puncture their pharynges with every breath they take. Others don't get flowers. They get apple or cherry trees with their fruits pouring juice inside their lungs and out of their mouths. Some others have pines and spruces, with cones constricting their organs and rib-cages until they bones break.

So you look at the small white petal that lays in your hand and think that, in your case, it is something almost magnanimous.

Plumerias have no thorns and, even though some can be a bit thick, their branches are soft enough to bend around your heart and lungs without much trouble. Their petals, small and delicate, rise easily up your throat without lacerating it in a coughing fit.

Maybe, you want to think in a very optimist way, if you can keep that love from growing further, you won't have to suffer through it.

Maybe.

So you prescribe for your own heart solitude and abstinence.

The first one is the easiest.

You tell your friends you are sick and need some time to recover. Most of them get worried as they don't know yet what illness has fallen upon you in these troublesome times.

"You know, If you wanted, I could get you a full medical examination." Alex offers with a raised eyebrow, giving you the look of the always concerned big sister.

"Thanks, but it's alright." You assure them with a smile. "I was thinking about spending some time at home anyway."

After a lot of questions you manage to dodge in the end, they decide there's no reason to doubt your intentions. So they leave you to your own devices.

Homemade remedies, or herbicides depending on who you ask, seem to help as you spend your days at home. Drinking some salt water with lemon in the morning, or a couple of vinegar tablespoons in a cup of tea before going to bed. They don't taste that bad once you get used to the flavor and these help you ease the new bitterness that you taste in the back of your throat.

The second is a bit harder.

You have to stop yourself from dreaming her, thinking her, missing her.

She has texted you a few times already, wanting to know how you're doing and offering her help if you don't feel like you're doing okay on your own. You handle it as best as you can. You text back, consistently enough and with measured time and words, so you don't raise any red flags. When you don't seem to answer she calls, but just thinking about hearing her voice makes your chest hurt a little.

You never answer. She doesn't try to call again. You spit your first handful of flowers after that.

It's all fine, you lie to yourself, at least until the pain reaches your insides and white petals come out of you mouth dappled in red.

"You need to tell her." Kara says softly as she pats your back after another coughing fit.

You cover your mouth with your hand, making sure there are no signs of blood or petals as you tight it into a fist. "Tell who what?"

"Tell Lena about the flowers." She sighs when she fells you freeze under her touch. "Sorry. Alex told me if I could get a clear shot at your lungs maybe we could figure out how to help. I didn't expect it to be... well, flowers."

It shouldn't come as a surprise to you but you are still amazed at how easy it is to forget Kara has x-ray vision when she's not wearing her suit. With or without it, she's still the same caring and protective person you have always known. It also explains why she has been so adamant about having lunch together, at least once a week, after your failed attempt at convincing her you were doing well after a month alone. You couldn't expect less from your best friend, you remind yourself as you catch your breath.

"How do you know it's her?" The taste is bitter as you swallow the rest of blood and petals in your mouth.

"It's plumerias, isn't it?" She rubs your back again as you regain you posture. "They are her favorites."

There are a couple of red tainted petals in your palm when you open your hand. "Yeah, they are."  

Kara looks at you and you see something in her you don't think you have ever seen before in the Girl of Steel. But you recognize it, because you feel the same way. Hopeless. Helpless. Powerless.

"(Y/N)." She says like she's already grieving. "It's spreading fast."

The easiest way to get ride of the disease is by removing its seed from your heart, the doctor says. No more than an hour in the operating room and your respiratory system would be as good as new. Common symptoms after the surgery can include aches between your shoulder blades, ribs, back of the neck or chest, weakness and hoarseness in your voice, and, in general, some memory loss and the inability to experiment intense or deep affection towards another person. Most of these stop shortly after you recover, except for the last one.

More experimental methods have been developed with the help of biotherapy. Experts in Japan are said to have reduced the spread of the flowers with other plants like kudzu or barberry, while someone in Europe has been using thrips to eat the plant and control its growth. It's like using maggots to eat your wounds, the doctor explains more enthusiastic than you feel.

You could, of course, try the simplest of things and confess your love.

It only takes to be loved in return for you to heal before any permanent damage is done. The seed that grows in your heart will almost instantly wither, the cough will purge the last of the flowers out of your lungs, and your recovery will last only a couple of weeks. You will breathe again.

But, if your love goes unrequited, you'll reach your fatal end in a matter of days. Doctors will give you a double dose of morphine or induce a coma trying to ease your pain. Flowers, fruits and cones bloom, branches and thorns grow. You convulse and gasp until your last breath when the biggest flowers come out of your mouth. All until your thorax is transformed, beautifully and violently, into a garden of flesh and blood.

Anyone who has seen it happen will tell you, how shocking it is to witness such a thing.

Whatever the case, this only serves to confirm what you already know. You can't be optimistic anymore.

You're dying and you will die, soon with flowers in your lungs or after many years with a loveless heart. Because this life and death of yours, you think, cannot be, shall not be, decided by a coin in the air.

And yet.

"It's flowers...in my lungs." You can almost tell which direction the flower stalks take inside your chest as the words form in your mouth.

"Oh." Lena says as she starts to fidget with her hands.

The anger, that had been growing inside her after weeks of vague replies and evasions, vanishes in her eyes the moment she understands what you're going through.

"Have you...talked to the other person?"

"No, not really. Not yet." You try not to lose your composure as you feel the flowers threatening to rise up your throat.  

"Will you?" She asks.

You take a deep breath, feeling the gravity pull your already heavy heart down. "It's plumerias."

"Plumerias?" You can see the moment it dawns on Lena, and the look she gives you makes you wish again you could die of a broken heart instead.

"Miss Luthor, I'm sorry but the board meeting will start shortly."    

Jess opens the door a second later and it gives you time to look at the other side and place your hand in your chest. As if that could possibly stop your heart and lungs from collapsing.

"Thank you, Jess. I'll be there." Lena dismisses her with a nod and looks again at you.

She doesn't say anything else and you feel a coughing fit building in your lungs. Stronger than you have ever felt it.

"(Y/N)!" She leaves her chair, running towards you.

You cover your mouth as your chest feels like a boxer is using it as a punching bag. I doesn't feel like it will end quick and when it finally does the only thing that remains is pain.

You thank the chair that holds you in place as you catch your breath.  

"I'm fine. It's fine." You don't want her to see it, but she manages to catch a glimpse of the bloody petals that cover your palm once you recover.

"No, it's not, (Y/N). You're dying and I-"

"It's not your fault." You cut her off, shaking your head and taking a little napkin from you pocket to clean yourself as best as you can.

The death, the break, the betrayal. You feel it all as worry and pity finally merge in her eyes. There's also guilt when she looks at you. It is there along with everything else she doesn't feel for you. So you don't want an apology, especially not from her, especially not like this.  

"You're my friend and I just- I wanted you to know. I got my surgery already programmed."

"Surgery?" You watch her draw back a bit in surprise.

"I'll be fine." You lie again.

"(Y/N), I-"                            

"Miss Luthor, the board-"

"I know!" Lena snaps and, when she realizes the magnitude of her reaction, she retracts, taking a deep breath for herself before answering. "Sorry, yes. Do you think you could hold it for a minute?"

"You should go." You say with a small voice before any of them can say more. "The meeting, sounds important."

"(Y/N)..." The way she pronounces your name makes you want to be over with this already. You just can't stand it anymore.

"We'll talk later." You say. "We got time."

She wants to argue, you know, but you won't, can't, do it. Still, you pull a little smile for her.

"We'll talk later." She replies with a nod.

There will be time for another conversation. There will be time. There will be time. There will be time. You repeat it like a mantra to help you carry yourself out of her office.

Everything else after that passes like a blur.

You know you reach the front door of the building, with the voice of the receptionist behind your back offering to call for help. You stumble on the sidewalk trying to hold onto light poles and signposts to keep yourself from falling. You clutch your hand in your chest as the pain reaches its peak. Flowers come pouring out of your mouth and you gasp for air as you finally fall.

You're delirious by the time you land on the hospital bed.

Many faces come and go then, doctors, nurses, friends, ghosts, both the living and the death. The only constants are your dying gasps and the painful beating of your heart until the morphine does its work. It helps you see, with certain clarity the only face that can make a difference.

"You listen to me, alright? I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier." You open your heavy lids at the sound of her voice, and you see those emerald eyes for what could be the last time. "I love you, (Y/N), please, I love you."

You hear her words, or you don't, or it is simply to late to care anymore. The coin is in the air and there's no more time.

***

☞ You let yourself drift into darkness as the plumerias are pulled to a better light. The garden is gone and what is left behind is only an empty carcass. You cannot stand the emptiness and your heart does what it should have done from the beginning. It breaks and breaks and breaks...

***

☞ Your mind tries to grasp her words but you find your heart too weak to keep a hold of them. So you let them pass through like a shadow. No need for them anymore as the anesthesia and the scalpel give you a break from all this suffering. There will be no flowers and it is, truly, not as bad as it could be...

***

☞ Her words suddenly hit you in their full meaning and your mind does its best to keep and save them into your heart. Even through branches and petals, it has the effect of an echo chamber, repeating those words like a healing prayer. I love you. I love you. I love you...

[ginger-and-mint]

Happy birthday Myx! 🥳🎂 Have Several questions because I Want To Know Things. ^^; Illness & Injury 6 for everyone, Whump 2 & 3 for everyone, and Writer's 2, 13, 19, and 46 for you!

thank you Mel! ♡ and oh my gosh I’m so delighted by this abundance of questions!

6. What is their go-to remedy for an upset stomach?

Kara and Bramley both like some warmth on unhappy tummy. They’ll make themselves tea, more for the warmth than anything else, and sip it while taking it easy. Kara is likely to get herself a little warm pack too if she can.

Malia tends to go straight for medicine or a tonic. She doesn’t like to be slowed down by her body, and so will opt for whatever she thinks will be most effective in the shortest amount of time.

Si, being a song-mage, was once surrounded by fellow song-mage friends they could ask to cast a stomach-settling healing spell on them. With that option off the table, they'll also look for a fast-acting medicine or tonic.

Grayson and Elliott both try to ignore an upset stomach for a little while in the hopes that it’ll settle. When that fails, Grayson will go get himself a tonic and complain to his friends until it kicks in, while Elliott will either try sitting quietly and sipping on water or tea, or if he can get away, just sleeping it off.

Ryder is knowledgeable enough to take a different approach depending on how upset his stomach is. For something minor, he’ll make himself a digestion-easing tea, like mint or chamomile. If he knows that won’t be effective, he’ll go straight to a tonic. When it’s something he’s eaten that’s not agreeing with him, sometimes he’ll just go make himself throw up to get it out of his system.

2. What is their pain tolerance? Do they close their eyes and block it out, or go into a full blown panic?

Grayson really hates tolerating pain, but if he has to, he can take a lot. Most of the time, he will remove himself from painful situations as quickly as possible and complain bitterly about anything that hurts. But if the chips were down, he would turn out to be a lot tougher than anyone expected.

Bramley is a Sweet Baby and We Do Not Harm Him is not really used to enduring pain and has a low tolerance for it. He would close his eyes and block it out rather than panicking, but not really be able to do anything except sit there and block pain until he was Helped. c’:

Kara is Pure Sunshine and We Do Not Harm Her Either has a pretty high tolerance for acute pain and doesn’t panic about injuries, but she has been known to get faint from them. She’s also easily worn down by chronic discomfort, like being too hot or cold or just having a constant dull ache of some kind.

Malia is the opposite. She can put up with low-key pain or discomfort for a long time, but an acute injury would freak her out a lot more than she’d like to admit.

Ryder has a high pain tolerance on all fronts, honestly. As soon as he feels pain, he looks for a solution to ease it, and if there are none to be had, he’ll grit his teeth and block it out.

Meanwhile, poor dear Si is not great with pain. Song-mages are primarily healers, and so Si is really used to having even little hurts soothed quickly and easily. They don’t panic when in pain, but they do get extremely miserable.

Elliott has a very high pain tolerance when the pain feels within his control; he can power through even the worst headaches or stomachaches, for example. But as soon as the pain feels out of his control (i.e. he gets injured), he panics.

3. How long do they typically take to recover from illness or injury compared to average?

Ryder and Kara, by virtue of Robustness and Being Sensible People who largely take care of themselves when under the weather, are quick to recover.

Grayson and Malia both heal quickly from injuries, but take a little longer with illnesses. With Grayson, it’s more a matter of him not being back to himself until his symptoms are completely gone (he is very much a Man Flu type of guy.) Meanwhile Malia will treat an injury with appropriate care, but is likely to push herself back to full capacity before she’s fully better from an illness, leading to a slower recovery.

As big and strong as Bramley is, he’s actually a little more delicate immune system-wise. He tends to be a slow recoverer, even though he’s good about looking after himself when sick or hurt.

Elliott and Si also tend to have slow and uneven recoveries, but in their cases, it’s due to hooliganery. Si takes good care of themself during the uncomfortable phase of their illness or injury, but as soon as they feel 90% better, they’re eager to leap back into life with their usual zeal. That’s not always a great idea and can lead to them prolonging whatever is afflicting them. Elliott, on the other hand, is just a stubborn idiot who doesn’t take care of himself. He’s particularly bad about this with injuries, often aggravating them and even making them worse because he won’t give them the rest they need to heal.

2.     Are you a pantser or plotter?

Usually I lean more towards plotting, although I do leave a lot of room for the new directions and ideas I know I’ll discover during the process of writing itself. But Ginger and Mint is the big exception -- I started writing it with zero plan whatsoever. I do have an outline for it now, but I was probably eight or nine chapters in before I made it.

While the final product is definitely not as a polished as it would’ve been if I’d planned it from the start, it was honestly super refreshing to not worry and just write. I’ve been trying to bring a little of that experience over into my more serious writing -- it’s so easy to get caught up in plotting and forget to leave room for writing itself to be a generative process.

13.  Describe your writing process from idea to polished

Have idea. Whee!

“Mark out” the things I want to happen in the story or chapter:

I usually do this by writing out short snippets of prose or dialogue related to the ideas I’ve had about each moment. For example, let’s say I know I want a moment where Grayson talks to Ryder. I’d type up a couple lines of dialogue and/or maybe a line about Grayson encountering Ryder and noting what he’s doing or how he’s looking -- whatever’s relevant to the scene. Basically, whatever ideas I have about that scene will be represented in writing in the “mark.”

I have all these marks ordered in the document in the same way the scenes will eventually be chronologically ordered. For me, having visual space is important for my ability to think, so I hit the enter key enough times between the marks that I can see only blank space when I want to work with a certain moment.

Build out each mark until I have a full scene. I do try to go roughly start to finish, but definitely jump back and forth depending on what I’m feeling most inspired by or what my brain seems to be spitting up ideas about. I also skip ahead whenever I feel stuck, which is both a blessing and a curse.

Go back and string the scenes together. Add transitions, fill in any missing pieces, etc.

Re-read the full thing from start to finish and make final edits. Yay, done!

19.  How do you keep yourself motivated?

goooood question fam

I struggle with this as much as the next person (see: 2.5 year G&M hiatus). I haven’t discovered a foolproof method of motivation yet (pls advise if you have), but I do tend to feel inspired whenever something reminds me why I want to write this story. That could be thinking about a scene I’m really excited to share, re-reading a scene that reminds me why I enjoy portraying a certain character or environment -- anything along those lines.

46.  Do you reread your own stories?

Yes, the ones that I like! Some things I’m not particularly proud of and don’t go back to very often, but re-reading pieces of writing I do like helps me feel motivated, inspired, and confident.

[therealtsk]

okay so i think before I really start delving into this fandom I wanna give my thoughts on the game itself.  so MUCHO SPOILERS FOR CONTROL. IF YOU WANNA EXPERIENCE THIS AMAZING GAME YOURSELF DO NOT READ THIS POST.  You good? Alright, let’s go. 

So. First, I wanna talk about the game-play of CONTROL.  It’s fucking amazing. In a year where I played five incredibly strong games (Bloodborne, Uncharted 4, Red Dead Redemption 2, God of War and of course, CONTROL), it was my favorite game. In fact, I think it might be my favorite game of 2019.  It has something that all of the other games lacked, with the possible exception of U4...the core gameplay was inherently fun. The word “Next-gen” gets tossed around a lot in the gaming world, but this was the first thing I played that truly felt like it. The gameplay of CONTROL is at once simple and wildly different: I think I speak for most people when I say that the Launch ability is my favorite gameplay aspect: it just feels amazing to use, even after a year of playing it. It’s the closest I think a game has ever come to truly come (for me) to making me understand the sort of power the character wields in a way that isn’t superficial. From the sound design to the rumbles of the controller, to the superb animation, all of it comes together to make you feel powerful.  It’s amazing.  Okay so now that’s over, let’s talk about the world, characters, and story, the biggest reasons I love this game. As a long time fan of the more surreal and ethereal types of the supernatural, CONTROL immediately stood out to me with it’s central location: The Oldest House. What an incredible setting for a game, but also just what an incredible setting in general? When I walk through the hallowed halls of the House, I never feel at ease. I think it’s a fantastic combination of visual and audio design, but the House has a way of making you feel both unwanted and watched: even with all of the human touches the Bureau has scattered throughout the map, The House feels starkly inhuman- the ceiling too high,the doorways slightly too broad. Even after centuries of co-existing with humanity, the House has not quite adapted to humans. And yet there’s something also irresistibly compelling about wandering a place you know, logically, you probably shouldn’t be. It’s a fantastic way of putting you inside Jesse’s shoes: you feel both her fear and the powerful call of the unknown that beckons her to the darkest corners of the House.  The Altered Items themselves are also just...fascinating. The twisting of the mundane into the paranormal- there’s a word I’m looking for, but I can’t find at the moment. I know some people got annoyed with all of the reading in the game, but personally, I loved scanning through every document, case file, and correspondence. Dead Letters in particular caught my imagination: I’ve never stopped thinking about the woman trapped in the phone since I read about it, I even turned it into an original short story. CONTROL’s world feels very much lived-in, like it has history and activity outside of the game’s story, which is crucial to the livelihood of any setting.  Now, for the characters: Jesse Faden is perhaps my favorite video game character to date. I love her so much, words can’t describe, but I’m gonna try anyway. I love her sass, her jump-down-and-figure-out-a-plan-on-the-way-there attitude, her frustration and quiet sadness, her anxieties and ultimately- her love. Jesse Faden loves her brother so much that she literally threw away any chance she could have had at a normal, peaceful life and risked everything for him, not even knowing if he was still alive. As a proud brother of two siblings, It’s nice to see familial ties being just as strong in games as romantic ones.  Speaking of romantic ones, Emily freaking Pope am I right??? The minute Jesse and her sat down at the table I was like :eyes: “these vibes...the chemistry...the delivery...” I don’t care what anyone says Jesse and Emily are gay for each other and you cannot tell me otherwise, just look at all of their interactions. Remedy thank you for giving me another ship to stan until i die  The other characters are also amazing! I love my bois Simon Arish and Fredrick Langston, adorable dorks that they are. RIP Marshall but damn you were badass- also your long coat. Remedy make merch so I can buy it pls.  As for the more supernatural characters: Polaris.  Oh my god I love Polaris. My first assumption was that Jesse was speaking to us, the player, but learning the truth about what Polaris was and her own character was so fantastic- I would literally watch so much of just Jesse and Polaris communicating, the idea of humans and these...ethereal life-forms co-existing is just fascinating.  And then there’s the Hiss. I have been obsessed with the Hiss since I first heard those words. You are a worm through time. Like...the idea of a malignant radio wave, burring into your mind and planting itself within you, overriding your thoughts with song...just fucking chills. I can’t wait to write about this audible horror. 

Also just something I wanna note before I wrap this rambling thing up: CONTROL was not a game I expected this from, but I love how they handled representation in it: they never call attention to it or try to get clout for it, but they have a wide scattering of nationalities and a very even split of women and men: it was just so nice to have a game that didn’t feel dominated by dudes, you know?  Anyway: the story. I think this is where the game lost a lot of people, but I thought the way that it unfolded was fantastic, and every ending (Base game, Foundation, AWE) has left me excited to see more. I think my favorite plotlines thus far comes from the DLC’s: The Astral Politics and, of course-  Alan.  Fucking. Wake. 

But more on that in a bit. I think The Board and the presentation of them was fantastic: It’s so hard to for humans to write utterly in-human mindsets and persons, but I think Remedy’s team did a truly amazing job with The Board. Down to the method of communication alone, blasting divided concepts into Jesse’s thoughts that are literally shattering into synonyms because they don’t quite understand human language is just...aaaaaaahhhh, so good. And then The Foundation, my favorite DLC out of the two: So much expansion on the lore of both The Board and The House itself. The implication that The Board may, in fact, be just as much of an intruder as the Hiss are is chilling, and of course, The Foundation gave us even more Emily/Jesse ship fuel and development so like come on. As for the AWE DLC: I know a lot of people were disappointing with it, and I get that! Don’t get me wrong, when it ended, I literally went: “Wait, that’s it? That can’t be it.” I was expecting something roughly around the same length as the Foundation, and I think other people were too. Once I got over the initial surge, though, I sat down and really thought about it.  Story and content wise, Foundation is 100% the better DLC. But gameplay-wise? Oh man, AWE was so much more thrilling. I think this lends to Remedy’s incredibly atmosphere building, but after spending hours of Control feeling like an unstoppable badass, for them to completely turn it on it’s head and make me feel like a rat trapped in a maze, desperately lunging for any light and being utterly terrified of the dark: god, what an amazing fight the entire Third Thing was. The Service Tunnel in particular had me shook, man.  Was AWE short and felt more like a teaser trailer for Alan Wake 2? Yeah. Was it still really fun? Yes. And also, I think people missed out on how much lore we got for CONTROL, as well! Two words: Chester Bless.  So, to sum this completely chaotic post up: I adore CONTROL, every bit of it, and I can’t wait to talk to you y’all about theories, fics, and the like. 

[jettries]

Jet Tries: Physical Therapy

Section 101: Your Roots 

Theme: I Am 

Acknowledging our base level of existence

Chapter 1: Stability & Feet

Most of us have feet. Congrats. Some work or hurt more than others. One usually bears more weight than the other, and neither gets much love. Gross fun family story, my grandmother apparently had the bones removed from her pinky toes so she could wear smaller shoes. Ah the things we do to attain our goals. 

Stretching, which is mostly what this series is about, can relax tense muscles (yes pls), restore muscle length following injury or immobility, improve flexibility, improve posture (which in turn improves oxygen flow through your body), warm you up before exercise, and it generally just feels nice. Stretching does not prevent injuries. But it does teach our muscles how we want them to behave, and trains them to play nice with their neighbor body parts. Having fatigued muscles that are overcompensating for their injured neighbor parts causes pain to both, and stretching is a good remedy for that. 

Some people are naturally more or less flexible, there’s not much you can do about it, and there's really no reason to worry or fight it. Just do what you can without hurting yourself, and shake whatchyer momma gave ya. 

Stability 

It is an odd combo this last year to feel overly enclosed and monotonous by months of stay-at-home orders and rules, and also completely unstable and adrift with never knowing what the next day will bring or what to expect. That high-energy back-and-forth agitation is exhausting, and we’ve all been feeling it in our minds and muscles for a long time now. For some people that instability may paralyze you in your bed, or make you want to block out all thoughts while eating or drinking on the couch watching months of netflix. Others have a knee-jerk reaction to fight back, skirt the rules, cause self-destruction, or yell at the rule makers in an attempt to feel some control over their own life when they feel otherwise helpless and can’t stand it. Some people work extra hours, or nest, shop, or surround themselves with objects, hobbies, clothes, decorations, and/or a full calendar of zoom calls and streaming games with friends as another way to fulfill something that feels missing. None of these things, these self-soothing coping mechanisms, is necessarily wrong, and we all do some combo of them from time to time. But we don’t want these knee-jerk habits to repeat, and build, and take over who we used to be. Who we want to be. Who we could be if we gave the real, scared, sad, frustrated “us” some stability. 

I know it can feel impossible to add one more thing to your day in the name of that elusive “self-care” when all day you bounce between frozen, or drowning, or so frustrated and caged and angry you could just shake out of your own skin. So that’s why we’re starting with something small, like foot stretches. When you’re done reading this, set down your phone for 60 seconds, and just think about your feet. What did they do today? Are they clean? Do they hurt? What parts are sore or stiff? If your feet could pick everything you did tomorrow, what would it be like? What can you offer them to thank them for working so hard and never getting appreciation? Maybe we can’t control our own surroundings right now, but what can we do to improve the lives of just our feet? 

Apparently I can't comment with videos, so the next posts will be some different foot stretches to try out, which require almost no time or effort, so excuses are futile. Just stretch your feet. They’ll thank you for it.

[yeet-or-be-hawed]

Hunters of Flesh and Money Part 5 Arthur Morgan x Reader

After being invited to work security detail at Bronte’s party, you aren’t expecting to see a familiar outlaw dressed to impress at the party. 

Things are starting to heat up! This series has been such a joy and its making my heart full to finally get some romance going after the building slow burn!

Part 4

Master list 

The sun had set the sky ablaze, leaving streaks of pink, orange, and red across the horizon. You inhaled deeply, taking the dry hot air into your lungs. It had been years since you were in New Austin and as you scanned the flat horizon, not much had changed. You liked that, back east it felt as if there were new buildings or houses or farms popping up on every corner. Civilization was pulled to an immediate halt when you crossed the West Elizabeth border into Hennigan’s Stead.

A pang of guilt prodded you, you told yourself you would bring Arthur next time you made the long journey west, but crossing a border is hard enough when there’s one bounty-crossing with another outlaw put you in twice as much danger, or atleast that’s what you told yourself. The deeper truth was you were ashamed. Your last encounter ended awkwardly to say the least and every letter you had attempted to write him since then has ended up in a crumpled ball on the floor. You sighed, perhaps he didn’t even remember, or maybe you were just drunk and over thinking it-what if he wasn’t even trying to kiss you? You had begun to think of Arthur as a close ally, there was no point in losing such a skilled gunman as a comrade. You swallowed you emotions and pulled out your camera; after a few failed attempts, you were able to hold the camera up and get a proper picture of yourself posing with the sunset. You frowned- your smile was too wide and it made your eyes look like they were closed, and damn, couldn’t you have chosen some cleaner clothes to wear? Your cheeks turned pink and you rolled your eyes, you had never once felt so self conscious of a picture before but the sun was setting quickly and you had already missed most of the day’s last light. You whistled for your horse- she was a strong mare and you took to her quicker than you thought though you still missed Garbanzo- though you’re western home was more preferable to your eastern counterpart it was much less friendlier at night. You spotted your horse as it raced across the valley, you took a step forward to meet her and a flash of purple caught your eye-desert sage. You bent over to pick the flower and stuck it in your satchel with the photo just as your horse trotted up beside you. You rode to the nearby post station and sat down with pen and paper beside an oil lamp.

Arthur,

I have to apologize, I wasn’t able to bring you with me this time but I hope these help bring back some pleasant memories. It’ll be a long ride from Tumbleweed back to the Heartlands, but I’ll send for you and Sadie when I return. Maybe we can get a few drinks-my treat. Wish you were here.

F

You stuck the sage and the phot in the envelope and sealed it tight. “One delivery please.”

“And who is to receive this parcel?” Said the post man.

“Tacitus Kilgore.”

He raised his brows and you had to stifle your chuckle. “Oh-Kay... anything else I can do for ya, Miss?”

“You got anything for a Marisol Fletcher?” You asked.

“One moment.” The man shuffled around the small booth and pulled out a single parcel. “Just one.”

You paid the man for your mail sat on a near by bench. The paper of the envelope felt thick-fancy. One look at the crest on the seal and you knew exactly who it was from.

-

Arthur wiped his brow as he dropped the haybale in front of the horses. His entire body felt sticky from the heavy humid air of Lemoyne. This was the last of his chores and he was making a beeline straight for his cool shaded room in Shady Belle when Hosea came around the corner. “Ah, there you are Arthur. Picked this up at the post office this morning.”

Arthur tipped his hat as he took the envelope from Hosea. He sat down on the old stairs of the porch as he opened the letter. Inside were a small folded letter, a photograph, and a dried flower. He thought the handwriting on the outside of the envelope was familiar, his hunch was confirmed when he spotted the F signed at the bottom of the page. The letter was short and sweet, and the last line made his chest tighten. Wish you were here.

He tried not to think about his blunder last time he saw you, it had been so long since he had heard from you he was beginning to think maybe he had offended you, so it was nice getting the letter. If you were all the way in Tumbleweed that would certainly explain your absence, that is one hell of a ride even by coach. He pulled out the picture and smiled, there you were beautiful as ever. Your smile was beaming, and though the sunset was meant to be the center of the photo, he couldn’t stop looking at you. He closed his eyes and just for a moment allowed himself to imagine being there with you-sitting on a rock talking and laughing, watching the sun fall behind the ridges. He imagined you smiling at him with that big toothy smile, it made his heart yearn so tenderly for the first time in years. He cleared his throat as his mind threw the image of you recoiling away from him for the millionth time. He groaned and pulled the dried flower out to inspect it. He looked it over and gave it a final sniff for confirmation- it was desert sage. It was actually in decent condition considering it had been through the post service which is known for not being the gentlest.

He lifted the flower to his nose as he stared at the picture, this was all he needed to remedy his home sickness- even if you would’ve asked him to go he would’ve declined. Even if he did manage to make it back alive Dutch would’ve killed him for being so reckless.

“Whatcha got there, Arthur?” He was pulled suddenly from his thoughts and jumped. Sadie laughed. “Well whatever it is must be important if you’re that focused on it.”

He cleared his throat and tried to hide the pink tone of his cheeks behind his hat. “Nothin’- just a letter from Fletcher.”

She snatched it out of his hands quicker than he could stop her, “and nothin’ fer me?”

“Now you just-“ Arthur stammered as he tried to snatch the letter and photo back from Sadie’s hands. She scanned it quickly and looked at the photo then back to him. He felt more heat rush to his cheeks as he couldn’t read the strange look on Sadie’s face. “Oh Arthur, you dog.” She giggled.

“What?” He grabbed back the letter and picture quickly. “Why you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“No reason,” she smirked. “I just had no idea you were such a ladies’ man, Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur stuttered over his words, “I ain’t- this isn’t...it ain’t like that with her.”

Sadie took a seat beside him. “Well, what is it like then?”

“It’s...it’s like” he sighed and dropped his head. “I don’t know what it’s like, to be honest with ya.”

Sadie slapped Arthur’s back a little too hard pushing an oof from his lungs. “Sounds just like how me and Jake started out.” Arthur began to argue and she cut him off. “I ain’t insinuatin’ nothin’ just makin’ an observation.”

“Well keep yer observations to yerself.” He grumbled. He wouldn’t look at her, but Sadie could see the forced grumpy look on his face and the blush he was trying desperately to hide. She stood, “and tell that girl if she even thinks of writin’ to you without writin’ to me too she can expect to never have my cookin’ again.”

Arthur chuckled and waved to her as she left. With a stretch he stood and quickly headed to his room before anyone else question him or send him back out on a job. He gently placed the dried flower into his journal to properly press and he placed your photo with the rest of his collection.

-

Arthur tugged at his collar uncomfortably and Dutch smacked his hand away. “C’mon Arthur, it ain’t that bad.”

“You ain’t the one gettin’ choked by your own collar.” He looked out the window of the coach. “How much longer to the mayor’s house anyways?”

Hosea poured Arthur a glass of champagne and handed it to him. “We’re just about to cross into Saint Denis now, have a drink before we go in. It’ll loosen ya up.”

Arthur chugged the glass and Hosea poured him another. By the time the coach pulled up to the large manor, Arthur had a small buzz, just enough to relax and put on that lazy grin. He wasn’t paying much attention to the man leading them through the house as he was observing every door, hall, and window in the house. They were there for business, after all.

Bill and Hosea split off from him and Dutch, headed out to the party to find leads. Arthur followed Dutch as they were led to a balcony where they were greeted by Angelo Bronte and a small group of men Arthur did not recognize. He did not trust this man, something about him seemed to give the air of a snake in sheep’s clothing. He felt unnerved through the entire conversation, the men behind him seemed to corner them in and Dutch hardly noticed. Arthur puffed his cigar in an attempt to ease himself of the situation. Luckily for him, Dutch was the more social butterfly and took control of conversation while Arthur scanned the crowd below. He watched as Hosea and Bill swam through the crowd of people, being around so many people made him uneasy.

“...must return to the party with our friends.” Dutch jabbed Arthur in the side and grabbed his attention.

Angelo nodded and raised a glass to them. “Yes yes, go and enjoy the party.” He paused and gave them a suspicious look. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, I’ve got eyes in places you wouldn’t imagine.”

Dutch laughed weakly, “yes, of course.”

“What the hell do you think he meant by that?” Arthur whispered as the descended the stairs.

“I have no idea.” Dutch responded. “Just be careful, and if something looks suspicious you get the hell outta there, got it?”

Arthur nodded. When they stepped out onto the patio, Bill and Hosea had already moved to join them.

“What’s the plan, Dutch?” Hosea asked.

“See what information you can find, about the bank, the trolly station, anything that you think will be useful. But be careful, I think our good friend Mr. Bronte is growing suspicious.” He paused, then turned to Hosea, “and no pick pocketing! We need to keep a low profile.”

Hosea nodded and blended into the crowd, Bill followed suit. Dutch turned to Arthur. “Now, I want you to find the mayor. See if he’s as incompetent as Mr. Bronte seems to think he is.”

Arthur nodded and put on his best smile as he wadded through the bog of Saint Denis’ Finest.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you looked over yourself in the bathroom mirror. The house was forbidden for guests, but you weren’t a normal guest. When Angelo wrote to you, he insisted you come to his ball at the mayor’s house- not as a guest but as security. Apparently some local gang of “greased up cow fuckers” were giving him touble. You and Angelo went way back, exchanging IOUs over the years and this time it was you who was in debt to him. Your job was simple- play the role of a high society lass and keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious. For who would suspect a beautiful young thing like you to be so dangerous? As he stated in his letter. But he was quite right in his gross assumption- no one looks twice at the high society women at these events, much less expects them to be under cover security.

When you exited the bathroom, you noticed a large figure turn the corner at the end of the hall and narrowed your eyes. You slowly peaked around the corner and your suspicions were confirmed. It seemed one of the house guests were ignoring the very explicit “no entering the house” rule and when he dug a lock pick from his pocket, you knew his intentions were not looking for the bathroom. Before turning the corner, you hitched your dress and pulled your pistol from the holster on your thigh. You had to fight the urge to groan, this damn dress was so poofy it was ridiculous to expect you to pull a gun at a moment’s notice. After adjusting yourself, you peaked around the corner and the man was still there. You approached behind him silently, and as he got closer you could distinguish his features. Broad shoulders, brown hair slicked back with pomade, he looked familiar but his beard was shaved almost completely away to nothing but a five o’clock shadow. You were right behind him now and you were quite certain it was him.

Arthur felt the lock click and smirked as the door opened in front of him. His victory was short lived, as soon as he took a step into the office he felt the muzzle of a gun on the back of his head. “Shit.” He whispered. Before he could turn around two hands forcefully pushed him through the threshold and the door closed behind him quickly. The room was completely dark and he couldn’t see a thing. He tensed for a fight, trying to listen for which direction his opponent would strike him for.

After shutting the door behind you, you turned on the lamp next to you and crossed your arms. “What the hell are you doin’ here?”

Arthur gaped in surprise. You were the last person he was expecting to see and he definitely never expected to see you like this. Your hair was pinned into a beautiful updo and the giant scar on your face was almost completely covered behind the makeup you were wearing. His cheeks flushed as he noticed your dress- your chest was almost completely bare, a wide dropping neck line that danced on the line between decency and decadence. The bodice of the dress held you snug, every curve of your body was accented and the deep crimson color of the dress played off your skin tone perfectly. Suddenly his mouth was dry and he had no words.

You were just as taken aback by him as he was of you. His three piece tuxedo hugged his chest tight you noticed as you followed him into the room that his pants did wonders for that ass of his too. His face was clean, any spec of dust had been thoroughly scrubbed away and his stubble revealed his scar on his chin a little more promptly. His jawline looked sharper and more square without the beard to soften it and his eyes were clear gleaming pools of cyan. He looked devastatingly handsome. He was the first to speak. “I thought there was a strict no gun rule here.”

“Yeah well, some of us get special clearance from Mr. Bronte.”

“How do you know Bronte?” Arthur felt his jealousy bubbling up again, is that why you were all dressed up? Surely you weren’t here with someone, sure as hell not that slimy eel. Could you?

“We been acquaintances for years now. I knew him back when he was just some slicked up Italian immigrant fresh off the boat. Ain’t too fond of the man he’s become, but it ain’t none a my business what he does. He asked me to help with some security detail. But what I’m doin’ here ain’t important, what are you doin‘ here?”

Arthur’s gaze moved to the floor. “Why? So you can tell ol’ Bronte what I’m doin’?”

You rolled your eyes. “Course not. I been bored this whole night till I saw you. I want to help.”

He raised his brow, “you sure? It could get you in trouble with Mr. Bronte.”

You barked a laugh, “I could care less. Now c’mon cowboy, whatcha lookin’ for?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “I heard the mayor talkin’ bout doin’ business with Leviticus Cornwall. Somethin’ bout some signed documents.”

“Okay,” you started. “First off, we’re in the wrong office. This is the mayor’s assistant’s office. The mayor’s office is just a little further down the hall.” You peaked out the door and the hallway was empty. “Follow me.”

The two of you snuck out of the office and you turned off the lamp and relocked the door behind you. Just down the hall, you stopped in front of a large mahogany door. Arthur felt a little dumb for not seeing this door as the obvious choice. “You still got that lock pick?” You asked.

He nodded and handed it to you. It had been years since you used one of these but after a little work the lock clinked and unlocked. The two of you stepped into the office and you locked the door behind you. “Okay,” you whispered. “All the important documents should be in that desk over there.”

Together the two of you went through all the drawers. There wasn’t much besides a money clip and some fine brandy, until you got the the bottom drawer on your side. “Arthur, come pick this real fast.”

Without a word Arthur flawlessly unlocked the drawer. Inside were all kinds of incriminating documents, Arthur dug through them until he found what he was looking for. He promptly stuffed them into his coat pocket and closed the drawer back gently and locked it.

“Got it” He whispered.

“Great, let’s-“ the click of the door unlocking alerted you and you grabbed Arthur and pushed him against the wall quickly. “Follow my lead.” Before he could process what was happening, you pulled his hands to your hips and your lips crashed against his.

Your cheeks were hot and you tried not to think about how tightly he pulled you close and the way his hands moved down to grip your ass. His lips were moving with yours now and his tongue was brushing against your lips in a hungry manner.

He couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him as your fingers entwined in his hair and gently pulled. When the door burst open the two of you pulled apart in false surprise. His arms remained clasped around you. “Oh my lord!” You gasped, almost a little too dramatically.

The chambermaid who walked in on you turned quite red in the face. “I-I’m sorry to interrupt but the house is off limits to guests.”

“Yes, of course” Arthur cleared his throat and took your hand in his. “Come on, darlin’.” As he led you out of the room he slipped the chambermaid a bill and gave her a devilish grin, “do me a favor and keep this between just us, okay?”

She averted her eyes quickly and shuffled into the room to slam the door behind you. Arthur led you back down the stairs to the party, but he was still clinging to your hand. Your face felt like it was on fire, the way his lips felt against yours was so much better than you imagined and the intensity of the kiss had you reeling.

When you didn’t immediately take your hand back, Arthur decided he wanted to hold it as long as possible. The kiss kept running through his head, the way your body felt against his, the silky material of your dress under his fingertips. It was hard to not imagine if he could’ve gone further. Of course you had no intention of taking it further as it was only a distraction but...his mind kept raking over how deeply you kissed him, the passion he felt as you pulled yourself around him. It couldn’t have just been nothing, could it? Arthur felt himself tense as he made his way back to the crowd. Anyone could be watching.

You put your spare hand on his back between his shoulder blades, “let’s dance.” You whispered. “We can get lost in the crowd, and if that maid is suspicious she’ll be watching us.”

“Okay,” He whispered. He led you to a spot where the crowd was thickest and wrapped his arms around your waist. It was the first time the two of you looked at eachother since the kiss. “I ain’t much of a dancer.”

You looped your arms around his neck, “neither am I.” The two of you swayed to the rhythm of the band, something about his face looked softer, more tender. His eyes were darting around uneasily, you took his cheek in your palm and gave him a smile. “Relax, youre at a party.” His stubble scratched against your palm but his cheek was so soft. When his eyes met yours it made your stomach leap to your throat. “I mean, act relaxed or uh, ya know, suspicious.”

He let out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, I getcha.”

You swayed together in silence for a moment before you leaned your head against his chest. He prayed you couldn’t hear the way he heart sped up by the simplest touch.

“I’m sorry bout earlier,” You blurted out. “If that was too much.”

Arthur scoffed. Too much? He couldn’t get enough. Or atleast, that’s what he wanted to say. The fear of rejection made its way back to the fire front of his mind. “It weren’t nothin’. Don’t worry bout it.” He tried to swallow the lump that had formed so stubbornly in his throat. “You had any troubles with your trade routes since I last seen ya?”

You smiled against his chest. He was almost a whole head taller than you. “Nah, he was just the one. I never got ta thank ya properly after that. You really helped us out, I don’t know what woulda happened if you weren’t there.” You have a short laugh. “Well I do know, I’d be dead. So thank you Arthur.”

“You just let me know if anyone else starts givin’ ya trouble, ya here? I’ll make sure they never both let you again.” He cleared his throat as he scanned the surrounding area. No one seemed to be watching but he wasn’t trying to end the dance quite yet. “Told Trelawny bout our little escapade, he seemed quite surprised you needed help. I don’t rightly think he believed me.”

You smirked, “I ain’t never been one to ask for help, but I guess we make a damn good team.” Arthur took your hand and spun you, taking you by surprise. “I thought you said you weren’t much of a dancer.” You giggled. 

When he pulled you back in, his arm looped around your lower waist and holding you close. “Don’t mean I don’t know a trick or two.” 

His face was so close to yours now, and it didn’t feel so alarming this time. “Well Mr. Morgan, aren’t you just full of surprises?” 

He responded with a dip, and when he brought you back up he smirked. “I guess you could say that.” 

The song ended, and a livelier tune filled the air. The couples around you began to break apart and leave the dancefloor in search of conversation and refreshments. When you pulled apart, Arthur kept one hand on the small of your back as the two of you exited the dance floor. You caught two flutes of champagne and handed him one. “Say Arthur, you ain’t seen my new horse yet, have ya?” 

He took a swig of champagne. “I haven’t.” 

This time you took his hand and you had that same big toothy grin as you did in the photo and you led him away from the party and to the stables. You sipped on your glass as you walked. “I miss my big boy, but this girl is real beaut. I think you’ll like her.” 

You led him to the third stall, where a beautiful silver dapple Fox Trotter was waiting patiently. “She’s gorgeous, what’s her name?” he exclaimed. gave her a pat on the nose and turned back to you. “Surprised you went with such a small horse, trading in size for speed, huh?”

“Her name is Ophelia.” You rolled your eyes. “She’s still bigger than your trick pony! But I will admit,  it is pretty nice. I ain’t never had a horse fly like she does.” You scanned the stables for Arthur’s white horse. “Where’s yours? I would fancy ditchin’ this party for a good ol’ fashion race.”

“I rode in on a coach with a few of the boys, so no race tonight but I’ll hold ya to that one.” Fireworks were going off back at the party and he pulled out his pocket watch. It was getting late, Hosea and the others were probably looking for him. “I’m sure they’re probably wonderin’ where the hell I’m at.” 

“Well let’s head back to the party.” You tugged at your dress. “I’m ready to get this damn thing off anyways.” 

Arthur chuckled, “Same here. I ain’t cut out for this formal wear.” 

“Amen.” You clinked your glass against his and downed the last bit of the champagne. You knocked your hip against his and he looked at you. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. I didn’t expect to have fun tonight.” 

He smiled, “neither did I. Good thing you were here, I don’t think I woulda gotten so lucky earlier if you hadn’t-if it weren’t for you.” He hoped it was too dark for you too see the flush swelling in his cheeks. 

When the two of you reached where the edge of the garden met the party, you stopped. “I guess I should retire for the night, I got a long ride back to camp.”

“Aw come on, it ain’t gettin’ that late.” He tried to sound more jovial than disappointed. 

You rubbed your neck sheepishly. “Cripp’s has us set up just outside a Cumberland Forest, plus I gotta return this dress to Mr. Bronte.” 

“Why don’t you stay with us for the night?” He blurted. Surely Dutch wouldn’t mind, he was certain Dutch would have had enough liquor by now he could convince him of just about anything. “In the mornin’ you can head back.”

“That’s sweet Arthur, but I gotta get back. Cripps has been by himself since I left for Tumbleweed and I’m sure he’ll have plenty of work for me to do tomorrow.” 

“Okay,” he whispered. 

Maybe you had a few too many glasses of champagne, but in that moment, the two of you standing close holding each other’s gaze everything else seemed to fade away, just background noise. Neither knowing what to say, but not wanting to be the first to turn and leave. Your stomach was in knots, but the feeling of his lips on yours kept coming back to you, the sound of the guttural groan he made when you entwined your fingers in his hair. Was it him or the alcohol that was making you so light headed? He turned to back to the party and you acted without thinking.  “Wait-” you grabbed his hand and he looked down at you hand and back to you, “I-I wanted to...” 

When you squeezed his hand and looked at him with those pleading eyes he gulped. He was certain you were moving towards him now, and he moved in too. His hand was moving up to cup your cheek as your faces were inches apart when Bill’s voice boomed behind him. “Morgan! Morgan, is that you?” 

The two of you froze and you looked away, your cheeks pink. “I’m gonna kill that man.” He grumbled. 

You giggled and gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go. “It’s okay, I know you need to go.” You looked back to the large house. “I should go too. I had a wonderful time with you tonight.” 

He sighed. “Me too.” When you turned to go he caught your hand. You turned back and he gingerly kissed the back of your hand. “Til next time.” 

You smiled and waved back at him as you returned to the manor. “Until next time Mr. Morgan.” 

His eyes followed you as you skirted the edge of the party to retreat to the house. Bill’s big hand caught his shoulder. “We been lookin’ for you all night!”

He rolled his eyes, “yeah well, you found me, happy?” 

Bill scoffed. “I’m ready to get the hell outta here.” He led Arthur back to the stables, where Hosea and Dutch were waiting and ready to go with the coach. “Who was that anyways?” 

“Who?” Arthur tried to sound nonchalant. 

“Don’t play stupid, Morgan. That woman, that’s who.”

“A woman, eh?” Hosea piped in. 

“Come on boys, Arthur can tell us on the road!” Dutch bellowed. 

Arthur groaned and filed in the coach behind the others. He’d remind himself to kick Bill extra hard in the morning for this. The men grilled him the entire way home. 

[simplygojo]

killer queen - chapter three

Series summary : Y/n, a native to London England, gets asked by the legend himself, Freddie Mercury, to help manage the band. Obviously she accepts, and it ends up being the best decision she’s ever made. Quickly she becomes close with each member of band, Roger Taylor specifically…

Chapter Summary : After spending the night at Roger’s flat, you go on a trip to Paris to visit your family.

Word Count : 2.1k

Pairings : Ben!Roger Taylor x Reader

Warnings : Swearing. 

a/n - SO little update for anyone who cares! I just got strep throat, and I had it last week too. :/ If anyone knows any goo remedies for strep then pls tell me!!!

           You woke up the next morning to Roger gently shaking you awake. “Morning sleeping beauty.” He said as you opened your eyes, squinting as you became familiar with your surroundings. Roger was holding a thermos that smelled of coffee. You looked up at him and closed one eye, tilting your head a bit. “Sorry I fell asleep.” You mumbled, causing Roger to laugh a bit. “It’s fine, but we gotta get going, one song left and four days to go.” He said as he flicked on the lights in the room, which resulted in you yanking the covers over your eyes. “Come on.” he said as he walked out of the room. You groaned loudly but dragged yourself out of bed. You decided not to change, you just grabbed the pair of sneakers you kept in your bag and put them on. You stumbled out to the sitting area, coffee in hand. Roger was standing at the front door, handing you the same jean jacket he gave you last night. “C’mon. I’ll drive.” He said as he opened the front door and gestured for you to go first. “Okay..” You yawned as you walked out the door, grabbing the blue jacket from his hands and draping it over your shoulders. Roger put his hand on the small of your back to guide you out the door before he locked and shut the door. The two of you got in the car, with Roger driving, and began to drive to the studio. “I’m so tired.” You complained to him as he drove. “Well good thing we didn’t follow my nights plan, you’d be even more exhausted.” he said as he looked over to you and winked. You playfully glared at him, “Eyes on the road Taylor.” you said, causing him to smirk and look back at the road.            The two of you finally got to the studio, almost half an hour late. Roger opened the door for you and you walked in, immediately apologizing for being so late. “I am so sorry guys, I didn’t mean to sleep in so much, I was just exhausted for some unknown reason.” You said before sitting down on the couch and taking a sip of your coffee. The three boys were staring at you, as if they had seen a ghost. “What? What is it?” You asked, almost looking panicked. “Rog! Control room. Now.” Brian said in a frustrated tone. The four boys walked into the control room and John shut the door behind them. “Damn you, soundproof walls.” you muttered before taking another sip of coffee.            Brian looked at Roger as soon as the door shut. “What the bloody hell did you do!?” he yelled in anger. Roger took a step back in confusion, “Woah mate calm down! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He countered, putting his hands up in the air in surrender. Freddie looked at Brian and then he continued. “She’s in your clothes Rog! You drove her here! She is exhausted for-” Brian put his hands up, preparing to use air quotes. “Some ‘unknown reason’?! You slept with her!” He yelled and Roger looked at him in disbelief. “Are you joking?!” he said. “Look we all know I wish I did, but she’s different. I didn’t I swear.” he said as he put one hand over his heart and one up in the air. John rolled his eyes, “Rog, she’s wearing your pants and your shirt. I wouldn't be surprised if she was in your boxers too.” He said and Roger glanced out the window at you and smirked. “What I wouldn’t give to see that…” He trailed off and Brian flicked his forehead. “Oi!” “Sorry, sorry…” Roger said and looked back at his three friends, “I didn’t sleep with her!” He said again, now getting a bit frustrated. Freddie looked at Roger with a confused look. “So she slept over at your house, is in your clothes, and you made her coffee in your thermos.” He said as he walked up to Roger. “Look Fred if you don’t believe me then-” “No. I believe you, but what stopped you?” Freddie asked him. “You said she was different. I for one, dear, would like to know what in god’s name that means.” Roger looked at Freddie like a deer in headlights. He didn’t say anything for at least two minutes. “She works with us.” He finally said just before walking out of the room and straight over to the drum kit.            “What did they want?” You asked Roger, not getting up from your spot. “Just something stupid.” he muttered before he started drumming his sorrows away. The rest of the boys walked out of the room and exchanged some glances before they walked over to start playing as well. “Reid called us this morning.” John said, over the loud playing of Roger’s drums. “He got us on BBC!” He yelled. Once Roger heard those words he stopped playing. “On television?” He questioned. “That’s awesome!” You said, finally getting up from your seat and walking over to them. “Wait?! When? I don’t want to miss it.” You questioned as you tied your hair up into a ponytail. “Why would you be missing it darling?” Freddie asked as he adjusted his microphone. “Oh did I not tell you guys yet? I’m flying out to France tonight to visit my parents.” You told them and itched your head. “I swear I told you guys…” you mumbled to yourself until Brian spoke up. “This Sunday.” he said and you gave a relieved sigh. “Okay, I’ll be here for it.” You smiled as the boys continued to work with their instruments.            Hours passed and they still hadn’t come up with anything. You looked at the clock and scrambled to your feet when you read the time. “Holy shit! I’m gonna be late!” You yelled as you grabbed your bag from the couch. “Wait, can one of you guys drive me to the airport? It’s only a ten minute drive from here.” You asked, no one responded and then Roger sighed and stood up. “I’ll do it.” “Good, and you can keep the keys to my car while I’m gone, as long as you promise to keep it safe.” You said as you dangled the car keys off your pointer finger. Roger’s face lit up and he swiftly snatched the keys from your hand. You stuck your tongue out at him, and waved bye to the boys. “I’ll be back Saturday morning! Make some music!” You yelled as you walked out the door, Roger hot on your trail.            Roger hopped into the driver's seat of the car and turned it on. You threw your bag in the back seat and sat down in the passenger's seat. “You ready?” He asked you, and you nodded in response. “Hey Rog?” You began as you looked out the window. “Yeah?” he answered, keeping his eyes on the road. “Can you please just tell me what Brian was yelling at you over earlier today?” you asked, looking over at Roger, one hand on the steering wheel the other hand out the window, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His jaw clenched a bit. “They uh-” “And don’t you dare try lying to me Taylor, I know you too well.” You interrupted. “They thought that we had sex last night because you showed up in my clothes, I drove you, blah blah…” He said trailing off. You knew it. “No way! Well, we’re just friends.” You said still looking at Roger. He nodded in agreement. “Totally! Just friends, nothing more.” he added as he pulled up to the airport. You grabbed your bag from the back seat and looked at him. “Just friends.” You said, and he nodded again. “Yeah, and I would never have sex with you, because..” He trailed off as you stared into his eyes, you looked at him, as if you were dreading the upcoming answer. “Because we work together.” He said to you. You sighed and forced a smile. “Yeah, same.” You replied as you got out of the car. “Thanks for driving me Rog, I’ll see you on Saturday.” You said before giving him a little wave. “Don’t turn French on me now, y/l/n!” He yelled before doing a reckless U-turn and driving the other way.            Once your plane landed, you put your small bag on your shoulder and waved down a taxi. Your dad taught you how to speak fluent French as a child, due to the fact that he himself is french. You asked the driver to take you to your parents house, and he obliged, taking you down the winding roads that lead there. Once you got there, you greeted your mom who answered the door, then your dad. You got settled into the musty guest room, put your bags onto the bed and opened up the window to let the warm summer air into the room. Later that night, you were having dinner with your parents, them asking about your life, you lying and telling them that you're still in law school. Then your mom began asking personal questions, which was odd because you never had a close relationship with either of your parents. “So y/n, any boys on your horizon?” She asked which caused your mind to drift back to yesterday night, you had spent at Roger’s flat. Sometimes you believed that he might want to have something more than your friendship, but other times you knew he could never like you like that. You broke out of your trance and looked up at your mother, “No. No boys.” You said then faked a smile.            Back at home when Roger finally returned to the studio John walked up to him and put his hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Rog, we gotta talk.” He said, but Roger just shrugged his hand off and walked over to the drum kit. John and Brian looked at each other and then both nodded. “Look, Rog. It’s okay to have feelings for a girl.” Brian started, Roger just ignored them and began to play a beat on the drums. Freddie waltzed up to him and sighed. “And if you have feelings for y/n, then that’s fine. If you like her you-” Roger stood up and threw the stool he was sitting on across the room, it breaking into pieces. “I like every girl I see! I’m a playboy!” He yelled at them. “I don’t have feelings for anyone, and I can have any girl I bloody-well want!” He yelled again, steam practically spewing from his ears. 

           Four days had passed, you finished visiting your parents and had your own little day trip to Paris before heading home. The plane ride felt long, much longer than it actually was, because you were eager to get home to see your friends, especially Roger. Over the course of four days you had made the decision that when you saw Roger, you were going to tell him how you felt. You thought that you liked him, and you thought that maybe if the two of you hung out more than maybe, it could work. And god, you wanted it to work. Your plane finally landed and once you grabbed your baggage you walked outside and waited for Roger to come pick you up in your car. You waited for about an hour until it began to rain. “That bastard!” You said angrily before waving down a taxi, asking the driver to take you to the recording studio.            At this point you were absolutely soaked, your hair dripping water just like the rest of you. You walked into the studio, a fuming look on your face as you spotted Roger. He looked almost angry at you as he rolled his eyes and looked away. You threw your bag on the ground and took off his now soaked blue jacket you were still wearing. “Roger Meddows Taylor!” You yelled as you walked up to him, anger seeping through your pores. You threw the wet jacket at him. “I was waiting for you! For one bloody hour!” You yelled as you crossed your arms over your chest. He shrugged, “Sorry, I forgot.” He said as he lit a cigarette and put it between his lips. You gave him and evil glare as you took a step closer to him so you were inches away from his face, you grabbed the cigarette from his mouth and dropped it in his half empty beer bottle. “Your a downright prick.” you whispered, not breaking eye contact with him as you spoke. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching your face for some sign of forgiveness, but you knew better. He swallowed and then took a step back from you, “You smell nice, is that new perfume?” He said as an attempt to change the subject. You let out a dry laugh and your hands fell to your sides. “It’s from Paris.” Was all you said before grabbing your car keys and leaving.

Series Taglist : @triggeredpossum  @june-uk  @toger-raylor @antoouu @ironicsecretfae @harrysniallpolish @s-e-l-e-c-t-i-v-e-listener @creativedogs @wvnhedas @rockyroadthepastryarchy @sweetdayme4427 @pietrorunsforme @coltonthekanima @anna1523 @fandomshit6000 @shutup-sorry @a-crowd-of-newsies 

[moldhoney]

Unfortunately I have a 120 gigabyte phone and no sense of self control so @turntogreen tagged me to describe myself only using pics I already have on my phone and honestly it was hard to narrow it down David Harbour’s ass selfie just missed the cut :(

I tag uhhhhhh first of all honestly anyone who wants to do this pls do and tag me so I can see but I am calling out @benzodiac @parkjimin2 @cosmiccorrelation @dovley @almondmilkbog @findingg-a-remedy @salt-monster @nitrazolam to do it if y���all want to!!!

[thelionshoarde]

Obi, fall (verb or season, up to you)

I sat down to write you some fluff for your birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU’RE AMAZING, EVERYONE CHECK OUT HER FICS THEY’RE GORGEOUS AND AMAZING AND DESERVE YOUR LOVE) and instead what poured out was introspective and angsty, and riddled with violent obi backstory, and hints of obi as an assassin angst, and so much pain omg, WEIRDLY IT IS HAS A HOPEFUL ENDING, OKAY, but you may not want to read this today, (or ever!) D;

trigger warnings: physical violence to a child, sort of self-harm, twisty dark logic, violence, brief murder, a stupid saying that i’ve now officially overused, obi internalizing abuse and allowing it to inform his actions, not sure if i hit all of them but i really hope i did! pls let me know if i didn’t and i will add it!

A long, long time ago, in a realm that Obi, sometimes, wondered if he had made up, so distant and strange the memory of it, Obi had first tasted hurt at the broken end of a bottle.

“If it doesn’t kill you,” sang Boss, smirking. The fractured ochre light from the bottle -- warm and heavy, flickering madly on the floor where Obi lay, too shocked to cry -- was near hypnotizing. Was all Obi could look at, stiff and terrified, as Boss loomed overhead, flipping the bottle, blood flinging with little quiet splats all over.

A boot nudged Obi’s side, enough to make him curl up careful and frantic around his bleeding arm. All it did was make the boot return, harder. “The lesson,” Boss grit out, losing patience. “What is it?”

“I --”

The blood was seeping through Obi’s fingers where he was scrabbling to close over the jagged rent. Like if he could just press down hard enough it would erase the damage, dam the flood. Close up the hole in his flesh where he was leaking out, dizzy and dizzying, the world shaken loose from its moorings and terrifying all around him, no safe place to be found. 

“The lesson, boy!”

Obi gasped, blinked hard through tear-tacky lashes. “L-let it -- let it make you s-stronger...”

What remained of the bottle shattered against the floor near Obi’s face, and he flinched. Bit nearly through his lip to keep in his startled shriek, because Obi was a quick learner, he was, and he knew this game already, was feeling out the rules and the back doors and loopholes, looking for any and every opening, any and every way to do more than just survive it.

If there was no safe place, then Obi would learn how to move through danger, so that he could never be caught like this again.

“Good,” said Boss. “Remember that.”

*

He did.

Let it make you stronger.

It was a lesson Obi would never forget.

*

Obi had fallen out of a tree, once.

Actually, Obi had fallen out of -- and off of -- a fair number of things in his life. He had broken bones, torn ligaments, collected lacerations and abrasions, bruises and tenderness like it was all he knew how to do. Like all he had available was the ability to take a hit and keep on ticking, to control the pain, to learn the way his body failed, and failed, and failed, until he could circumvent it.

He wore scars so he could learn how to become immortal.

“Let it make you stronger,” he said to the first body he ever relieved of its final breath. To the first soul who screamed at the sight of him in the dark; to himself, each and every time the pain lanced in so deep there was no stopping it, no wound to be seen, and no remedy.

Let it make you stronger.

Obi did, because he was tired of feeling the hurt of it all.

*

But this --

This whatever it was, this free-fall into a pair of judging eyes, this wasn’t --

“Don’t you dare,” said Shirayuki, “speak about Zen that way. Don’t you dare.”

This was not the pain to which Obi was accustomed.

*

The wild thing -- the reckless, horrifying, masochistic thing -- was that it never got better. It never stopped. That hurt, that ache; that burning longing wedged into his heart, where he was weakest, that he had protected at all costs, where no blade had ever scraped or fist had managed to bludgeon, it never faded, it never lessened and never went away.

No, it got worse.

What is wrong with me, he wondered, dark and twisted up in confusion; lost for the very first time, which was stupid, because Obi had traveled lands foreign and strange and never stopped moving and had never once felt so adrift for direction. Lying on that bed in Raj’s palace, the sense memory of Shirayuki still clinging to his fingers, the heat and overwhelming terror of it -- the all-consuming desire, it --

Obi could scarce recognize himself, anymore.

All those years -- all those lessons -- all that falling, and tumbling, and breaking, learning how to take the pain and make it disappear, and then, what? All of a sudden the regard of a slip of a stubborn woman was enough for him tie a noose about his neck?

This was untenable. This was outrageous. He needed to go. He needed to leave. He needed to get out before he was lost, lost, lost, in a way that he could never be found again.

Because if he didn’t, then what next? Would he hand her the rope, ask her gently to never let go?

No.

He curled his fingers in to a fist, jaw tense. I won’t. I won’t fall that far -- I won’t.

*

He did.

*

Obi had been learning pain all his life. Had been born into it, trained by it, courted it just to spurn it, time and time again. It had led him here -- to Clarines, to Zen Wisteria, to Miss Kiki and Mister, to Little Ryuu and Lyrias, Suzu and Yuzuri and the knights, to laughter and affection and the strange rub of normalcy.

It had led here, to her.

Her hands gripping his, her eyes clear and steady; her regard and patience and kindness. To welcome home, and --

There were some falls you could never recover from.

Sometimes, maybe, all that could be done was to embrace it, to hold it tight and fierce within. Obi laid a hand against his chest, over the scar that had almost stolen his life, to press against the pain a thousand times more vibrant than any he had ever been gifted with before. Love, he thought, and couldn’t help the way his mouth twisted, not quite a smile.

Across the room, Shirayuki turned to him. Grinned, and said, “You ready for lunch?”

“Mm,” Obi agreed, moving, letting his arm fall -- not letting the pain show on his face, the crippling force of his emotion. He grinned, and held the door open for her. “Want to try that new place? The one near the Tent District?”

“Oh! Yes, Suzu won’t stop talking about their dumplings!”

He let her words wash over him; let them wear him down to rounded edges, reveal the cracks and crevices in him. Let the pain pool there, in all the shattered places, let it make him new, make him better or stronger or stranger -- make him something, something greater than he’d ever been, had known, had dared to imagine, he --

Let it make you stronger. 

He would. He was.

[elizabethcariasa]

5 ways pets can pay off on your tax return

Image: National Day Calendar

It's a rare day on the internet. Dogs are getting more attention than cat videos.

Actually, it's baby dogs who are the focus, since today, March 23, is National Puppy Day.

Personally, I'm a cat, not dog, person. But I know that regardless of your pet preference, animals bring a lot of good to our lives.

And in some very specific cases, they also might be able to help you reduce your federal tax bill.

Here are 5 potential ways that Fluffy, Fido or whatever you call your fur (or other) baby can provide their human parents some tax write-offs.

1. They provide a medical remedy: It's no secret that pets provide us comfort. That's being reinforced as many of us are hunkering down at home in an effort to slow the transmission of coronavirus.

While this unexpected extra time with our pets — which, as my #TaxTwitter pal @PaulasPicks notes below, could be a good or not-so-good thing — is the result of a medial crisis, it won't help us out as far as our taxes go.

Puppy parents: pls be extra kind to your pups, as they're likely to be overjoyed by your 24/7 presence. Kitty parents: pls be extra kind to your kittens, as they're likely to be annoyed by your 24/7 presence. And you may wind up missing. #FridayFun

— PaulaTheSmall (@PaulasPicks) March 21, 2020

But an animal's presence could pay off at tax time if you've been diagnosed with a physical or mental condition that benefits from the attention of a trained therapy animal. In these cases, the pet's costs could count as an itemized medical expense.

Note that this is beyond just your animal's knowing when you need some extra snuggling after a tough day at work (or watching COVID-19 updates). A physician's diagnosis and recommendation are required.

Animals that help you deal with a physical disability are more obvious and easier to claim tax breaks.

Internal Revenue Service Publication 502 says that if you need a guide dog, either to compensate for your reduced vision or hearing, you can include the costs of buying, training and maintaining that animal in your overall deductible medical expenses tally.

This generally includes such things as the animal's food, grooming and veterinary care to keep it healthy enough to help you.

2. They contribute to your business: If you have a guard dog to keep your business safe after regular retail hours, that animal's work-related costs could be claimed as business deductions.

The tax code's standard business deduction rules still apply, notably that the animal's costs are ordinary and necessary in your line of business.

Once you show that your pet is indeed helping your business succeed, then the money you spend — food, vet bills and training -- are deductible as a business expense.

To do that, be sure to follow the cardinal tax rule of keeping good and separate business records. Track your animal's hours on the job as well as all related work expenses.

You also might want to keep copies of customer testimonials that, for example, say how happy folks are with those professional photos you took at your studio of them holding your python.

Also note that your guard dog or cat providing pest control at your warehouse will be treated as business property, meaning his or her value must be depreciated.

Finally, you have a better chance of not raising IRS eyebrows if you choose an animal that fits the job. So you probably shouldn't claim your Yorkshire Terrier is your warehouse's guard dog, even though she does yap all the time.

3. They work for themselves: Fans of the television show Friends, whether you watched when it originally aired on NBC or are now streaming the escapades of six Manhattan friends, know Marcel.

"Friends" friends greet Marcel the monkey who's back in New York City for a movie shoot. (YouTube video screenshot)

He (actually she; Marcel was played by a female primate named Katie) was Ross Geller's pet Capuchin monkey. Marcel and Ross eventually parted ways. If you haven't seen it, check out "The One After the Superbowl" for their touching final goodbye. But I digress.

Performing animals like Katie/Marcel have a lot of ways to make money, ranging from appearing in ads (print, online and TV), movies and television or the myriad other ways that the internet has opened up for cash collections. Yes, we're still looking at you, social media star Grumpy Cat.

Where your business is managing that critter's public appearances, you would report the money the animal earns for him/herself and you as self-employment income. That means legitimate associated expenses, such as taking your pet to film locations or photo shoots, as well as grooming, training and, of course, feeding and other care costs could count as business expenses.

Again, thorough substantiation and documentation are critical to these claims.

Also be careful here that your duties regarding your animal's stardom are a job, not just a hobby. If the IRS (specifically a tax examiner aka auditor) thinks that your pet-related activities are more for fun that business, your tax deduction claims could be disallowed.

And no, you can't claim hobby expenses against hobby income. That was part of the miscellaneous itemized expenses category that was eliminated by the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act (TCJA).

4. They move with you: Of course you took your pets with you when you moved. But the big dogs needed special transport for the cross-country trip.

Your pet's transportation is a deductible moving expense … with one major caveat.

Another TCJA change now limits relocation costs, including those for your pets to members of the U.S. military who relocate pursuant to military orders.

5. They are part of a charitable endeavor: If you foster animals while your local nonprofit shelter works to get them new homes, you costs could be deductible as an itemized charitable expense.

Costs that count are the usuals, like pet food, supplies and veterinary bills. But you also can deduct 14 cents per mile for trips made to further the shelter's work.

Be sure to keep careful and accurate track of your pet protection expenses. A California woman lost some of her cat care deductions because she didn't have all the IRS-required receipts, specifically for pet-care items costing $250 or more. She also failed to get a letter from the 501(c)(3) charity acknowledging her volunteer work.

I know, your pet is much more to you than a tax break. But I'm sure your devoted animal wouldn't mind if you were able to also get some tax benefit because he or she is a part of your life.

It's just another way for them to show us their unconditional love.

And just to ensure that cats aren't forgotten on this puppy day, here's a photo of the feline love of my life:

You also might find these items of interest:

IRS says cats and dogs can't be corporate officers

7 tips to ensure your pets' safety during a disaster

IRS says 'No' to tax-exempt status for pet care group offering heated spa, massages and other animal amenities   

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[yes-dal456]

Lead Poisons Children In L.A. Neighborhoods Rich And Poor

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With its century-old Spanish-style homes tucked behind immaculately trimmed hedges, San Marino, California, is among the most coveted spots to live in the Los Angeles area.

Its public schools rank top in the state, attracting families affiliated with CalTech, the elite university blocks away. The city’s zoning rules promote a healthy lifestyle, barring fast food chains.

Home values in L.A. County census tract 4641, in the heart of San Marino and 20 minutes from downtown Los Angeles, can rival those in Beverly Hills. The current average listing price: $2.9 million.

But the area has another, unsettling distinction, unknown to residents and city leaders until now: More than 17 percent of small children tested here have shown elevated levels of lead in their blood, according to previously undisclosed L.A. County health data.

That far exceeds the 5 percent rate of children who tested high for lead in Flint, Michigan, during the peak of that city’s water contamination crisis.

The local blood test data, obtained through a records request from the Los Angeles County Department of Public Health, shows two neighboring San Marino census tracts are among the hotspots for childhood lead exposure in the L.A. area.

San Marino is hardly alone. Across sprawling L.A. County, more than 15,000 children under age 6 tested high for lead between 2011 and 2015. In all, Reuters identified 323 neighborhood areas where the rate of elevated tests was at least as high as in Flint. In 26 of them – including the two in San Marino, and some in economically stressed areas – the rate was at least twice Flint’s.

The data stunned San Marino Mayor Richard Sun, who said he wasn’t aware of any poisoning cases in the community.

“This is a very serious matter, and as the mayor, I really want to further explore it,” Sun said upon reviewing the numbers presented by Reuters. During an interview at City Hall, he directed city officials to investigate potential sources of exposure.

THOUSANDS OF U.S. LEAD HOTSPOTS

The L.A.-area findings are part of an ongoing Reuters examination of hidden lead hazards nationwide. Since last year, the news agency has identified more than 3,300 U.S. neighborhood areas with documented childhood lead poisoning rates double those found in Flint. Studies based on previously available data, surveying broad child populations across entire states or counties, usually couldn’t pinpoint these communities.

Despite decades of U.S. progress in curbing lead poisoning, millions of children remain at risk. Flint’s disaster is just one example of a preventable public health crisis that continues in hotspots coast to coast, Reuters has found.

The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s threshold for elevated lead is 5 micrograms per deciliter of blood. Children who test at or above that threshold warrant a public health response, the agency says. Even a slight elevation can reduce IQ and stunt childhood development. There’s no safe level of lead in children’s bodies.

In San Marino, old lead-based paint is likely the main source of exposure, county health officials said, but they added that imported food, medicine or pottery from China could also be a factor. About 80 percent of San Marino homes were built before 1960, and the community has a large Asian population, U.S. Census data show.

Exposure from old paint, drinking water and soil are widely researched. Other risks – including some candies, ceramics, spices or remedies containing lead from China, Mexico, India and other countries – are less known.

The L.A. blood data covers nearly 1,550 census tracts, or county subdivisions, each with an average population around 4,000. It shows the number of small children tested in each tract, and how many tested high.

In California, the exposure risks children face can vary wildly by neighborhood. Many L.A. areas have little or no documented lead poisoning. Countywide, 2 percent of children tested high. But in hundreds of areas, the rate is far higher. Reuters crunched the data, and neighborhood-level results can be explored on an interactive map.

In the trouble areas, old housing is commonplace. Nearly half of L.A. County’s homes were built before 1960. Lead was banned from household paint in 1978, but old paint can peel, chip, or pulverize into toxic dust.

Children are often exposed in decrepit housing. But in some U.S. areas, nearly a third of lead poisoning cases can be linked to home renovation projects, said Mary Jean Brown, a public health specialist at Harvard University and former director of the CDC’s lead prevention program.

San Marino residents take pride in preserving their historic homes. Among the measures Mayor Sun wants to consider: An ordinance to ensure safe practices any time home repairs or renovations could disturb lead paint.

Poverty is another predictor of lead poisoning, and many of L.A.’s danger zones are concentrated in low-income or gentrifying areas near downtown and on the city’s densely populated South Side.

In one low-income area of South L.A., Reuters met with the family of Kendra Nicole Rojas, a three-year-old recently diagnosed with lead poisoning, only to find that 63 other small children living within a six block radius have also tested high.

“A lot of people don’t even think of the West Coast as a place where kids get poisoned,” said Linda Kite, executive director at L.A.-based Healthy Homes Collaborative. “The biggest problem we have is medical apathy. Many doctors don’t test children for lead.”

The findings highlight a need for greater medical surveillance, abatement and awareness in the health-conscious county of 10 million, public health specialists said.

The county and city of Los Angeles have dedicated lead prevention programs that work with at-risk families. When a child’s blood levels persist above 10 micrograms per deciliter – double the CDC threshold – the family receives a home inspection, nurse visits and follow-up.

The effects of lead poisoning are irreversible, and the programs’ broader goal is to prevent any exposure. But success hinges on many actors, and assistance from agencies such as the CDC, the department of Housing and Urban Development and the Environmental Protection Agency. Like other regions, L.A. faces a looming hurdle in attacking hazards: President Donald Trump’s federal budget proposals would sharply cut funds for many lead-related programs.

“We’re aware of lots of areas where homes or soil contain significant levels of lead, and those can represent an urgent need to act,” said Maurice Pantoja, chief environmental health specialist for the county program. “Any fewer resources toward poisoning prevention would be a tragedy.”

A POISONED HOME

Just a few miles west of San Marino, in South Pasadena, one boy’s poisoning serves as a cautionary tale.

In an old, pastel-colored home on Hope Street, an infant named Connor was exposed to lead paint and dust in 2012.

The property is owned by California’s Department of Transportation, Caltrans, which had plans to expand a freeway in the area. Its floors were coated in chipping lead paint. During a bathroom repair, a crew showed up in “hazmat suits,” said tenant Cynthia Wright, Connor’s grandmother.

But as the crew worked, stripping toxic paint from walls and fixtures and unleashing plumes of dust, they told the family there was no need to leave the home, Wright said.

That was an unfortunate lapse, the state agency acknowledged. “There were errors in handling communications regarding this property and Caltrans has revised its business practices,” spokeswoman Lauren Wonder said, leading to “greater vigilance.”

Connor continued crawling around the floors. At age one, he began missing developmental milestones. Suddenly, he lost the ability to use the few words he could say.

When his mother, Heather Nolan, had him tested for lead, the result was almost five-fold the CDC threshold. Lead levels often peak among children ages one to two, when they are increasingly mobile and have hand-to-mouth behaviors.

Now six, Connor needs speech and occupational therapy up to five times a week. He hasn’t been able to integrate in a mainstream classroom.

“It’s not an easy road,” his grandmother said. “I would tell anyone in an old home, you really need to be aware of the risks.”

In 2015, the family settled a landmark lawsuit against Caltrans for $10 million. Wright still lives in the home, which has been remediated.

POOR PROSPECTS

Amid an affordable housing crisis in Los Angeles, many renters don’t confront landlords to fix lead paint hazards, fearing eviction if they raise the alarm, said Kite, the healthy homes advocate. That helps explain why so many children in south and central L.A. test high.

Karla Rojas, 26, was living with her extended family on 30th Street in a low-income area of South L.A. last year when her toddler, Kendra, started getting chronic bouts of illness.

Mother and daughter slept on the floor, near a bookshelf where an inspector later found flaking lead paint. Tested at the local St. John’s Well Child & Family Center, Kendra’s result came back at several times the CDC threshold.

Once county officials got involved, the landlord repainted the shelf and other areas where lead was found. Still, terrified her daughter’s exposure would continue, Rojas moved out.

“When you read about what lead can do, it makes me fear for her future,” said Rojas, watching three-year-old Kendra play with two new pet rabbits.

Exposure is common in the area, said Jeff Sanchez, a consultant at public health research firm Impact Assessment, which works with L.A.’s prevention program. Around the neighborhood, code inspectors have cited at least 35 percent of residential properties for chipping or peeling paint violations over a four-year period.

Paint isn’t the only peril. A mile and a half east, in Vernon, the now shuttered Exide Technologies battery-recycling plant spewed noxious emissions for decades, polluting soil in thousands of properties with lead residue. A planned $175 million cleanup will rely in part on children’s blood tests to determine which properties should be sanitized first. Past testing has shown that children living close to the plant are at heightened risk.

Yet California, like Michigan, doesn’t require lead screening for all children, leaving many untested.

Prompted in part by Reuters’ previous coverage, California cities and lawmakers are pushing new initiatives to protect children.

Bill Quirk, chair of the state legislature’s Committee on Environmental Safety and Toxic Materials, recently introduced a bill to require screening for all small children.

“I strongly support blood lead testing,” said U.S. Congresswoman Lucille Roybal-Allard, who represents part of L.A. County. “It’s important that residents have information about the threats they may face in their communities.”

‘DON’T WORRY, HE’S NOT AT RISK’

California’s current policy is to test children with known risk factors, including those enrolled in government assistance programs for the poor like Medicaid. The protocol, applied unevenly by healthcare providers, can miss poisoned kids.

In 2013, when apparel designer Amanda Gries and her husband, a Hollywood film editor, rented a home in L.A.’s West Adams neighborhood, she was pregnant with son Wyatt, now 3. The century-old mansion was in a rapidly gentrifying area south of downtown, near landmarks such as the Staples Center and the University of Southern California.

Gries, concerned about peeling paint and dust in the home, urged a pediatrician to screen Wyatt before his first birthday.

“The doctor didn’t want to test,” Gries said. “The message was, ‘Don’t worry, he’s not at risk.’ It was like he didn’t fit the profile.”

Gries insisted, and her fears were confirmed when Wyatt tested at nearly double the CDC’s elevated threshold. An inspection found lead in dust on the floor of Wyatt’s bedroom at 30 times the federal hazard level.

The family moved out quickly and searched citywide before settling into a home on L.A.’s west side, chosen because no lead was detected inside. Wyatt is bright and energetic, Gries said, but has impulsive behaviors. He needs occupational therapy for sensory issues, at nearly $200 per session.

Keeping Wyatt away from lead hazards and feeding him a special diet are part of the Gries’ daily routine. Poor nutrition can worsen lead poisoning, allowing children’s bodies to absorb more of the heavy metal.

“All we can do is hope he’s okay,” said Gries.

(Additional reporting by M.B. Pell)

  (Editing by Ronnie Greene)

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