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phantompoguefangirl · 1 year ago

Text

NEW STORY!!

Michael CliffordxFemOC

CHAPTER ONE: MEETING THE FAMILY/FIRST MEETING

Also available on Wattpad @ SerpentBeauty1710

Seems like there's always someone who disapproves

They'll judge it like they know about me and you

And the verdict comes from those with nothing else to do

The jury's out, but my choice is you

So don't you worry your pretty little mind

People throw rocks at things that shine

And life makes love look hard

The stakes are high, the water's rough

But this love is ours

And it's not theirs to speculate

If it's wrong and

Your hands are tough

But they are where mine belong and

I'll fight their doubt and give you faith

With this song for you

'Cause I love the gap between your teeth

And I love the riddles that you speak

And any snide remarks from my father about your tattoos will be ignored

'Cause my heart is yours -OURS by Taylor Swift

A/N: This started as a oneshot and became the longest first chapter of my life lol but bear with me. This chapter takes place in November 2014 which is why Michael has red hair. Warnings: Language, and abuse is briefly mentioned in this chapter but will be explored in depth in later chapters. Fluff/angst

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"Baaabee it's coooolddd," Michael whined, trying to pull his leather jacket closer around him.

"I told you to bring a warmer coat, but Mr 'I do what I want I'm punk rock' didn't listen. You're lucky we're here before winter really hits," I replied, stifling a laugh as I glanced over at my boyfriend, who sat in the passenger seat of the car we'd rented. I was driving because we were in my home state of Idaho and I knew this area like the back of my hand. Also Michael was still getting used to driving on American roads, and Idaho roads are a little precarious in cold weather.

"Shut up," he groaned, making a face at me, "You didn't tell me it would be this cold. It's like fucking Antarctica here!"

I rolled my eyes as I turned the heat up and handed him a blanket from the back seat. He excitedly burrowed into the blanket till only his bright green eyes were visible. I cracked up laughing and then mumbled a profanity under my breath as I missed my turn.

"What?" Michael asked innocently, his voice muffled by the blanket.

"You're too damn adorable, even when you're being a dumbass and it's distracting. That's what," I giggled.

He uncovered his face to smirk at me and then covered it again.

I shook my head and shoved him playfully with one hand as I found and turned down the correct road to my best friend Tessa's apartment complex.

Michael and I'd been dating for several months now and he hadn't met my family yet since we lived in Los Angeles and my family was in Idaho. My sister Maggie, the matriarch of my family since my mom left us when I was 14, had begged me to come home for Thanksgiving and I was on the fence about it until Michael had offered to come with me.

He had never experienced Thanksgiving, being Australian, but he was super excited about there being tons of food. He also wanted to be here to support me because he knew things were a bit strained with my family and he didn't want me to deal with that alone. Plus he just hated being away from me and we had a couple days off from our tour because while the boys didn't do this holiday, a lot of their and my American fans did so we had not scheduled any tour dates for these few days.

So here we were, on our way to drop our stuff off at Tessa's, where we were staying, before heading to Maggie's house for Thanksgiving. Michael was reluctant to get out of the warm car when we parked, but I promised him I'd get him a hot chocolate on the way to my sister's house, which had hin nearly falling out of the car trying to untangle himself from the blanket. Tessa's dog Nova alerted her to our presence so she opened the door before we could knock.

"Hey loser!" I greeted her jokingly.

"Wow, I let you stay with me and you insult me?" Tessa complained sarcastically.

"Whatever. You love me," I replied, grinning.

"Debatable," she retorted as she hugged me. Michael laughed shakily as I hugged her back as best I could while holding my bags. Tessa looked over and noticed him shivering a little bit as she pulled back from the hug. "What are you wearing, you dingus? It's like 30°F outside right now."

"Yeah, yeah don't start. Mia already gave me shit about it in the car," Michael responded in a slightly annoyed tone as he looked down at his thin leather jacket, red and black flannel and black skinny jeans. He'd at least worn a beanie and boots but still.

I'd actually kind of matched my outfit with his today, though it had not been intentional. I also wore a red and black flannel, black skinny jeans, boots and a beanie. Obviously, I'd opted for a more practical jacket though. We'd laughed for a good minute when we saw each other earlier, the situation made funnier by the fact that we both had red hair, though mine was my natural ginger red with turquoise and purple ombre while his was the color of a firetruck. There hadn't been enough time to change so we'd just stayed like this. On the upside, my sister would probably want photos so the matching outfits would be good for that.

Tessa rolled her eyes and laughed as she helped us bring our stuff inside and get situated. Her boyfriend, Nate, also roasted Michael a little bit for his clothing choices but also understood because Nate was from a different state and he was still getting used to the weather here as well. Not long after that, Tessa told me to let her know if shit went down and she'd come to my sister's to beat some ass and then Michael and I left for my sister's house.

As promised, we got hot chocolates but not before we stopped and got Michael a better coat. I didn't want my family making fun of him too. I knew they would already have enough opinions about him. They were not only pretty conservative, but also really overprotective of me because I was the youngest of four kids. They'd barely ever allowed me to date before I moved out, let alone ever met a guy I liked because their idea of a good boyfriend for me and the type of guys I was into were VASTLY different. I mean I had standards, which actually Michael had helped me with, but I was not into the goodie two shoes clean cut polo shirt wearing type of guys.

Obviously.

My anxiety kicked up a notch as I drove down Maggie's street. Michael must have noticed because he put his hand on my thigh and squeezed gently.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. I'll be with you the whole time," he said softly.

I smiled at him warmly, "I know and I love you so much for that, but that's not the problem."

"What's the problem then?" he asked, concerned.

"I don't want to deal with what they're probably gonna say about you. Not that I care about what they think of you. I just don't want to hear it. I just want them to see me happy and be happy for me for once in my life," I explained.

"Well, tell them that then. Or I can. And if anyone tries to start shit, we'll leave. I don't care what they think about me either, honestly. All I care about is whether or not you're okay," he reassured me as I parked in front of my sister's house. He intertwined his fingers with mine as soon as we were out of the car.

I knocked on the door and opened it since Maggie was the let yourself in type. Michael only let go of my hand when we removed our coats and beanies(I fixed his hair for him once his beanie was off) but quickly reconnected our hands as soon as he could and followed me up through the house. The back door was the most used at Maggie's house because it opened to her driveway and the front door was way on the other side of the house for some reason. The back door led up a few steps into her kitchen, which you had to pass through to get to the rest of the house. I could tell once we were in the kitchen that everyone was sitting or standing in the dining room, which was to the left at a 90 degree angle from the kitchen. This meant they would all see Michael, who was behind me and not in their view yet, for the first time simultaneously.

Well at least we could get it out of the way quickly, hopefully.

I froze and took a deep breath to prepare myself. Michael used our entwined hands to turn me around and pull me into his arms gently, hugging me. I pressed my face into his chest, breathed in his scent and sighed.

"It'll be okay, baby. I've got you. And I love you, no matter what they say," Michael whispered, lifting my face with both hands and looking into my eyes.

"How are you so perfect? I love you so much," I whispered back, gazing at him in adoration.

He grinned and kissed my forehead softly before taking my hand again and gesturing me foreward. I pulled him with me through the archway to the dining room.

Every set of eyes zeroed in on us and widened in shock as they took in Michael's bright colored emo hairstyle, eyebrow piercing, black earrings, plethora of bracelets and dark clothes. Appearance-wise, Michael was the epitome of punk bad boy and they hadn't even seen his tattoos yet.

"Um, hey everyone," I said, clearing my throat,"This is my boyfriend, Michael. Michael, this is my family."

"Hello, everyone. Happy Thanksgiving," Michael said, smiling and waving awkwardly.

They all stared for a moment before I began introducing everyone by name. Michael greeted them each kindly.

"Never figured my baby sister to be into someone who looks like you but as long as you treat her right, I'm cool with you," my brother Mason commented. I figured Mason wouldn't judge that much since he also had dyed hair, tattoos, similar clothing style and was sort of the rebel of the family.

"I do treat her right. If anything, I probably spoil her a little bit, but I don't mind. She deserves it," Michael replied, looking at me and smiling lovingly.

"Good. Keep it that way," Mason nodded in approval.

"So what do you for a living, young man?" My grandmother asked in a tone like she expected him to not have an answer.

"I'm the lead guitarist in a band called 5 Seconds of Summer, Ma'am," Michael replied respectfully.

"Oh my god, I thought you looked familiar!" Mason exclaimed, looking back and forth between us in disbelief.

"You know this band? They're actually successful?" Grandma looked over at Mason in surprise.

"Yeah, they're actually getting pretty famous now," Mason answered her.

"Yeah, Grandma, they've won awards, been on magazine covers, played all over the world and performed on several tv and radio programs. They've had a lot of hit songs on the radio too," I gushed defensively.

"Oh are they the band you told me about?" My oldest brother, Miles asked. He didn't seem to have any issue with Michael either. He never judged people. He'd always been supportive of me and he was the sibling I was closest to. He and my sister took me in when my mom left, since my dad wasn't around at the time, and he was the one who supplied my magazines, posters and books about whatever I was hyperfixating on before I moved to California. I'd told him a little about Michael and 5SOS, but not the full story.

"So how did you two meet?" Miles asked curiously, ignoring everyone.

"I saved his life and we became friends first," I answered.

"She almost knocked me out, actually," Michael joked.

"What?!" Mason exclaimed, laughing.

How?!" Miles questioned incredulously.

"I did not! Let me explain," I objected.

FLASHBACK:

I was walking down the street, looking around for a restaurant to eat at, when a flash of neon pink in front of me caught my eye.

I did a double take when I realized the pink was the hair on a beautiful boy barely a couple feet away from me, who I immediately recognized as Michael Clifford from 5SOS.

Before I could fangirl, I saw that he was starting to cross the road and there was a car coming straight for him.

"MICHAEL MOVE!" I screamed, but he didn't respond. I barely registered the earbuds in his ears before I was sprinting toward him.

I tackled him out of the way just as the car passed us, though I was pretty sure the only reason my tiny 5 ft tall self was able to even move his towering 6 ft frame was because I caught him off guard.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" He shouted in confusion as we both sat up and he glanced at me as he looked around, pulling his earbuds out and putting them away.

"Oh shit, I didn't hurt you, did I?" I asked, suddenly panicking.

"No, I'm fine, I think. But what the fuck just happened?" he replied, still looking confused and annoyed.

"I-um-there was a car coming and you didn't respond when I yelled your name so I panicked and tackled you," I explained, gesturing in the direction the car went.

His face softened. "Oh. Wow. Um, thank you...what's your name?"

Our eyes met and I actually almost forgot my name for a second before I blinked and came back to reality. "M-Mia. My name is Mia."

"That's a pretty name," he said as he stood up and offered his hand to me. I took it and he helped me up. "I'm-wait you said you yelled my name, so you know it already. You're a fan?"

"Um...yeah, but just so you know, I only tackled you to save you. And not just because you're you. I would have done that for anyone else in that situation. I swear I'm not crazy," I rambled a little bit, blushing.

"You're fine, don't worry," he reassured me.

I nodded nervously as I bent to pick up my satchel off the ground.

"Uh, I don't normally do this, but I was on my way to get a bite to eat and I was wondering if you would maybe like to join me? It's the least I can do to thank you," Michael asked tentatively, running a hand through his hair.

I whipped my head up to look at him in shock. Did Michael Clifford just ask me out?

"A-are you serious? I-I mean, uh, you don't have to do that," I stammered, fidgeting with the strap on my bag.

"I know, but I want to. I feel bad for how I reacted. You didn't deserve that," He said softly, "Besides, you're really pretty and I was kinda hoping to get to know you better."

My heart threatened to jump out of my chest at his words, but then it sunk a moment later.

"You have no idea how badly I want to say yes, but I have a boyfriend...," I told him, looking down at my feet.

"Oh," his voice sounded sad for a second and then got lighter again which caused me to look back up at him,"Well, I still would like to repay you for saving me so how bout just a casual meal between friends?"

A flicker of emotion crossed his face at those last words and disappeared before I could figure out what it was. I shrugged it off and smiled at him.

"Okay, I guess we could do that," I agreed.

"Awesome!" Michael said excitedly, turning and gesturing for me to follow him, "Come on, I know a great place. I was on my way there just now."

I grabbed onto his jean jacket as I tried to keep up with him. "Michael! Wait for me! I have little legs, unlike you, giraffe boy."

He chuckled and slowed down. "First of all, I'm not a giraffe boy. That's Luke. I'm more of a...fuck, what's another tall animal? A Camel? I don't fucking know..."

"A CAMEL? Oh my gosh. You're an idiot. That's what you are," I said, laughing.

"Ouch! I'm being so nice and treating you to lunch and you call me names?" Michael gasped playfully, putting his hands on his chest in mock pain.

"You didn't let me finish. I was gonna say but you make up for it by being ridiculously cute," I retorted. Oh shit did I just say that?

"Aww really?" Michael said, placing his hands under his chin and making an adorable face.

I nearly fell over laughing while walking and he caught me before I smacked into a post that was directly in my path.

He pulled me toward the doors of a locally owned pizza place nearby,"This is it! The home of the best pizza I've ever had! Oh, do you like pizza? I probably should have asked that earlier."

"Are you kidding me? I could LIVE on pizza!" I answered as we went inside and found a table.

"Okay, you saved my life, you like my music, you're gorgeous and you love pizza as much as I do. Oh my god, are you an angel? Because I have been BLESSED," Michael blurted out, giggling as he sat down in the booth.

"Stop. You did not just say that!" I wheezed, holding my stomach because of how hard I was laughing.

"Are you alright?" he asked between giggles.

"No. You're gonna be the death of me," I whined through my own giggles.

"Aww no don't die. I'm sooorrryyy," he drew out his words as he tried to help me calm down, which failed as the way he said sorry set me off again.

Eventually he got me breathing normally before the server came over to us.

We ended up ordering Dr. Pepper for both of us along with a hawaiian and a cheese pizza. We scarfed a lot of it down while goofing off and talking about everything we could think of. Music, movies/tv, videogames, hobbies and other interests, the band, etc. We also managed to take some funny and cute photos of each other, mostly on his phone because I was worries about having too many on my phone. The only ones on mine were ones of me and like one of the two of us taken as though we just casually ran into each other.

I sat back after awhile, feeling full and and totally happy for a change. And again I was brought down from the clouds by the sound of my phone going off.

"Dude, was that a lightsaber sound effect?" Michael asked, intrigued.

"Yeah it is. I love Star Wars so I made it my notification tone," I explained enthusiastically before I saw the text that the aforementioned lightsaber sound alerted me to. "Shit, I gotta go. My boyfriend is home and he's wondering where I am."

"So? Just tell him you made a new friend and you're hanging out with them," Michael said, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"No, you don't understand. I really have to go home now. I'm really sorry. But I had the best time with you. Thank you so much for bringing me here," I said, grabbing my bag anxiously.

Michael looked at me for a moment like he wanted to ask me something but then his face shifted like he thought better of it. He sighed. "Okay then. Will I get to see you again? I'd like to be friends with you, if that's okay?"

"Um...yeah, here," I answered, pulling up a new contact on my phone and handing it to him. He typed in his info, saved it and then handed it back. I sent him a quick text and he saved my contact, adding one of the photos he took of me to it as well.

"Oh, do you want to take any leftover pizza?" he asked as I stood up.

"I can't, but um, you can share it with the boys? You know they'll be happy you brought them food," I suggested, glancing toward the door, half expecting my boyfriend to track my phone and show up here.

Michael nodded and stood up as well,"Okay, I'll see you later, Mia. I had a wonderful time as well and hopefully we can hang out again soon."

Before I could reply, he reached out and pulled me into a hug. It took everything I had not to melt into his arms and refuse to leave.

"See you later," I mumbled into his chest before pulling away and hurrying toward the door.

FLASHBACK OVER

"So yeah that's the story of how we met," I finished, shrugging. I'd obviously edited certain things out since I was talking to my family though.

"How long ago was that?" Miles asked, seeming to be fully invested at this point.

"A year and two months ago, but we didn't start dating till this past June," Michael answered.

"Oh, because of the other boyfriend, right? Bet you just jumped from him to this guy like it was nothing," Maggie finally spoke, her voice laced with judgement.

"No, actually, she didn't, which she already said before. And with all due respect, maybe you should ask her nicely what happened instead of instantly judging her," Michael jumped in before I could say anything, wrapping an arm around me both to protect me and also to soothe me because he knew this was a sensitive subject for me and it was taking all of my self control not to snap at her.

Miles put a hand on Maggie's shoulder and stopped her before she could snap back. He hated conflict and was always the neutral party who had to stop arguments. I tried to never put him in that position but the rest of my family was a different story.

He looked over at me and kindly asked,"What happened with the other boyfriend, Mia? If you're alright to talk about it, of course."

I had to take some deep breaths again before speaking,"Um, well, his name was Jesse and he was...he...hurt me..."

I trailed off, shaking and trying to hold back tears at the memories. Michael kissed the side of my head and rubbed my back to soothe me, even though I could feel how tense he was from remembering these things too.

"It's alright, love," he said softly into my hair, "Do you want me to continue for you?"

I shook my head after a moment and did my best to collect myself before speaking again,"Um...he was...hurting me...physically. It was hell for a long time...until I met Michael. It got so bad that I almost died one night, but I survived because Michael and the rest of the band saved me from Jesse. Jesse's in prison and everything, but it took me awhile to get past what happened. Michael's band let me move in with them and they all protected me, took me to therapy and helped me through everything. It wasn't until months later that things between Michael and I became more than friendship."

"You're okay now though?" Miles asked worriedly.

"Yeah, I'm a lot better now," I answered, smiling. He sighed in relief and hugged me. Mason joined the hug too, which was odd since he rarely showed me affection at all, so Michael backed away to let us have a moment.

"Why didn't you tell us, dude? You know we would have kicked his ass for you," Mason asked as they let go of me.

"Oh, so you could get yourself thrown in jail AGAIN, Mason?" I said, giving him a look," Besides, it was more complicated than just the abuse. He was powerful and he controlled my career, my money, everything. Michael got me out of that with the help of his band management people and their lawyers."

This had actually been what set him off the night Michael saved me, but they didn't need to know that. I didn't want them blaming Michael for what happened to me, which they probably would.

"You just helped her out of the goodness of your heart? I find that hard to believe. You probably just did it to get in her pants," Grandma sneered at Michael, her judgy tone and expression made suddenly worse by the sight of Michael's tattoos as he had shoved his sleeves up to his elbows anxiously without thinking about it.

He disliked remembering what Jesse did almost more than I did and he always played with his sleeves or bracelets when he was anxious. He noticed everyone's eyes darting to his arm and hands, and we both rolled our eyes.

"Oh he's got tattoos, too. Wonderful," I heard my dad mutter.

"Dad! Stop it!" I exclaimed. I went to say more but Michael stopped me. I knew that look in his eyes so I let him. He didn't take shit from people and he wasn't about to start now.

"Okay, listen, I know what I look like to you all," Michael began,"and to be honest, I don't really give a damn because what I look like has nothing to do with how I treat people. I've cared for Mia from the beginning and, not that this is any of your business, I refused to even acknowledge any sort of feelings or anything until she was ready to, much less try anything physical, and neither did she. I'd never disrespect her or take advantage of her, or anyone really, that way. Honestly, my focus wasn't even close to that place, anyway. I was concerned about her wellbeing more than anything and that has not changed. So I promise you, my intentions with Mia have never been anything other than respectful and I would never ever hurt her. We don't even sleep in the same room. So if we could all just be grownups about this, that'd great."

"And by the way, the guy whose appearance you would approve of actually did hurt me and disrespected me. He did a lot of horrible things, and yet if I brought him here instead of Michael, you would have welcomed him immediately. Meanwhile, the man who actually loves me and is good to me is the one you're rude to simply because he does not look ideal to you. How does that make sense?" I interjected.

"I guess it doesn't," My dad said, "Wait, then where are you sleeping while you're here?"

"Again, not that it's your business, but we're staying at Tessa's, still in separate rooms. I'm taking the couch and Mia gets the guest room. We do the same thing on the tour bus and Mia gets her own hotel room when we get to use hotels," Michael told him.

This was not always true, but they didn't need to know that.

"Tour bus?" Dad questioned, confused,"Mia, what are you doing on their tour bus?"

"Oh, I'm 5 Seconds of Summer's opening act!" I told him

"What?!" Miles exclaimed.

"Yep! She's actually an amazing singer and musician. Everyone loves her and she's gained quite the fanbase," Michael boasted, grinning proudly.

Maggie and Grandma again looked shocked. Miles enthusiastically hugged me again for this, and Mason rolled his eyes and tried to act like he didn't care.

"Ew people actually like listening to you sing?" Mason joked. I put my hand on his face and shoved him playfully.

"Really? You're performing?" Dad turned to me, surprised but smiling. As conservative and protective as he was, he'd always loved my voice and he had encouraged me to pursue my music when I left home. I could tell that even though he was not happy about my choice of boyfriend, he was happy I was getting to sing for people.

"Yeah I am," I nodded, beaming at him.

"That's great!" Dad said, seeming to accept this, though he shot Michael an 'I'll hunt you down' look. "As long as there's no funny business going on."

"Okay can we stop talking about Mia's sex life before I lose my appetite? I'm starving!" Mason groaned, grabbing his stomach dramatically.

Everyone laughed at this, surprisingly, and it broke the tension enough for us to move on to dinner. My little nephews came out of their room at that point. They must have been napping. I helped Maggie set out the food then grabbed some glasses of my grandma's famous punch and sat in the chair next to Michael, which he pulled out for me.

"Wow, this all looks and smells amazing!" Michael gasped excitedly as his eyes skimmed over every dish on the table.

"Wait till you taste it," I said, grinning at him.

We said grace and then everyone dug in. Michael eagerly put a helping of everything on his plate and began stuffing his face.

"Oh my god, you're right, it all tastes amazing too!" Michael nearly moaned, his mouth full of food. "Maggie, you're an excellent cook!"

I giggled and nodded in agreement as I shoveled a large spoonful of mashed potatoes into my mouth.

"Oh, thank you," Maggie replied, smiling tentatively as she took a sip of her punch. "I didn't do all of it though. Miles made the devilled eggs and Grandma made the punch."

"Well, you all did a really great job. It's all delicious. Thank you," Michael said, raising his glass to them a little bit before taking a drink. Miles reacted happily but Grandma just sort of half smiled and nodded.

As we ate, he got distracted by my brothers having a heated debate about Mario Kart. He eased his way into the conversation and after a little bit my brothers challenged him to a Mario Kart battle after dinner. Of course, Michael eagerly accepted the challenge.

Dinner went by fairly smoothly, and after we all helped clean up and took some photos together, the boys set up the Wii and started up Mario Kart. I decided to play too, even though I knew they were all better at it than I was. I had just really missed playing videogames with my brothers and I was so happy they were getting along with Michael. The four of us piled onto the couch with our controllers and chose our characters. Miles liked playing as either Toad or Mario but Michael had already picked Toad so Miles went with Mario. Mason got Yoshi before I could but then I remembered you could play as Toadette on this version so I picked her. Michael chuckled at this and kissed the side of my head.

I actually managed to win one round but Miles and Michael won most of the rounds. Mason was not happy about losing but he respected Michael for being so good at the game.

During Halo, which was the next game they put on, I didn't play. However, I did accidentally distract Michael by laying down with my head on his lap, which caused him to miss and his character to die. Then toward the end, I decided to reach over and tickle Mason right as his character was about to throw a grenade at Michael's, causing Mason to drop his controller and his character to accidentally fall off a cliff and die. At the same time, Michael turned and shot Miles' halo dude, winning the round.

"Ohhhhh, I'm gonna get you for that!" Mason cried out in a tone that was half mad and half joking around as we all laughed. He and Miles jumped up and moved toward me.

"Shit!" I yelped as he and Miles, who were both tall and ridiculously strong, grabbed me off of the couch.

They easily were able to toss me around between them and a wrestling match ensued as they tried to take turns tickling me.

"Ahhh, Michael help!" I screeched, giggling as I flailed about, trying to fight off my brothers.

"Oh you mean like this?" Michael smirked and also started tickling me.

"NOOO NOT LIKE THAT AHH!" I shrieked, squirming and beginning to hyperventilate. "WHY ARE YOU HELPING THEM?"

"You distracted me in Halo and made me die," he said, finding the most ticklish spots on my sides as Mason grabbed my legs in an attempt to keep me from kicking him. Miles held me under my arms which caused my shirt to ride up several inches.

Suddenly a shrill voice echoed through the room.

"HE'S GOT YOU TATTOOED AND PIERCED TOO?!" Grandma bellowed as she came back from the bathroom, startling us.

Miles jumped and let go of my torso, which made Mason lose his grip on my legs and drop me. Michael tried to catch me but was just slightly too late. I ended up landing sideways on my hand and rolling backward onto him, screaming as something made a cracking sound and a sharp stabbing pain shot up my arm.

"Shit, Baby, are you okay?" Michael asked worriedly as he helped me up carefully.

I shooked my head and winced as I braced my hand against my chest.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," Miles exclaimed as he saw my swollen, discolored hand and wrist.

Grandma apparently either didn't notice or didn't care because she just stormed over and aggressively yanked my shirt up. She glared down at the ornate black crescent moon holding a red stone that hooked through my navel, Michael's favorite of my belly button rings, and the anchor with tiger lillies and rope descending into a treble clef inked on my side. I had a few other tattoos, but my clothing still covered those.

"Knock it off, Grandma. Michael had nothing to do with my tattoos or me piercing my belly button," I retorted, pushing my shirt back down and stepping away from her. "I got them way before I met him."

"I don't believe you," Grandma said, crossing her arms.

"Of course you don't. That doesn't make it any less true," I replied, annoyed and desperate to go take care of my hand.

"Why would you do this to yourself, Mia? You know better. You know you could get ink poisoning or an infection or something," My dad chimed in, having shifted his attention from my nephews to me and giving me a look only a disappointed dad can give.

"Because I wanted to and that's all that matterd. Mason and Maggie got tattoos and piercings and nobody batted an eye, but I do it and everyone loses their minds? How is that fair?"I questioned them, which actually made them go quiet. "I'm an adult too and I can make my own decisions. If I want your input, I'll ask but until then, I don't want to hear it."

"Fine. If you wanna throw away all your values and destroy your body for a boy, go for it. But don't come crying to me when he leaves you for some other groupie or something," Grandma huffed angrily. "I've been around a long time, Mia. I know how guys like him are."

"Hey listen, I'm sorry you seem to have had some bad experiences with men, but that doesn't mean we are all like them. And it absolutely does not give you the right to treat Mia like that. I don't know what makes you think that's in any way okay, but it's not. Especially since you're family,"Michael snapped at her as he wrapped his arms around me and ushered me toward the back door,"And by the the way, you're wrong. I love Mia with every fiber of my being and I have no intention of ever leaving her. In fact, I hope to marry her some day. When we are both fully ready, of course. Now, in case you haven't noticed, Mia is hurt and needs a doctor."

This seemed to stun everyone into silence for a moment before my grandma grumbled something about it getting dark(she doesn't like driving at night) and gathered her things to leave. My brothers and my dad helped her to her car and Maggie took some leftovers to her car for her. Then Miles and Mason drove Michael and I to the hospital, which luckily is only about 5 minutes away from Maggie's house.

I barely noticed any of this till Michael and I were were in a room waiting to be seen, mostly because of the pain but also because Michael's words were replaying over and over in my head.

"You alright?" Michael murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"Did you just...tell my whole family you want to marry me?" I gazed up at him wide eyed.

"Out of everything that just happened, that's what you're thinking about right now?" he asked, incredulously.

"You can't just say something like that and expect me to forget about it," I said. "You know me better than that."

"True," he said. "It kinda just came out before I could stop it. But honestly, I meant every word."

I smiled warmly at him as my heart swelled. Sometimes I still couldn't believe he was really mine.

"I love you," I sighed happily, kissing him.

"I know," He said softly, deepening the kiss and pulling me closer as I snaked my good arm around his neck.

"AHHH MY EYES! MY EYES!" I heard Mason doing a hilarious impression of Phoebe from Friends as he came back in and saw us making out.

We laughed as we pulled apart and watched him get smacked in the back of the head by Miles, who had appeared behind him.

"We're in a hospital, you idiot. You can't yell shit like that here," Miles reprimanded Mason.

"On the upside, it might get the doctor in here faster," Michael snorted. "Do American hospitals always take this long to treat people?"

"Actually a lot longer sometimes. Hospitals kind of suck here," Mason said.

"That's fucking stupid. This is an emergency room," Michael said, glancing down at me worriedly as I leaned on him.

"Welcome to America, buddy," Mason quipped, clapping Michael on the back.

Michael rolled his eyes and shrugged his hand off as the doctor finally came into the room.

The doctor examined my hand, and ordered an x-ray. The x-ray showed that my wrist and thumb were broken so they reset the bones before wrapping it in a cast, which I requested to be purple.

They also gave me a high dose of pain medicine, which meant that Miles had to drive us back to Tessa's. When we got there, Michael explained what happened, since I was too out of it now, and Tessa offered to take us to the airport tomorrow and take our rental car back for us. He agreed.

Michael carried me upstairs to the guest room and helped me change into one of his hoodies and some fuzzy panda pajama pants before tucking me under the covers.

"Goodnight, my love," he murmured as he kissed my forehead and turned toward the door.

"Mikey don't gooooo," I pouted, reaching for him. "Mikey cuddle meee."

"Okay, fine. Just give me a second," he said, chuckling and going out the door. He returned a few minutes later in a long sleeve tshirt and some pajama pants. I reached for him again and he snuggled with me under the covers, careful not to hurt my wrist further.

"My Mikey," I mumbled sleepily, nuzzling my face into his chest. "I love my Mikey."

"I love you, too, baby," he giggled, "And you're so cute when you're high as balls on painkillers. But you need to sleep now."

I looked up at him with big puppy dog eyes and he sighed.

"You want me to sing, don't you?" he asked.

I nodded, still doing the puppy dog eyes.

"Only for you," he said, before very softly serenading me with my favorite song.

"Throwing rocks at your window at midnight

You met me in your backyard that night

In the moonlight you looked just like an angel in disguise..."

I relaxed into his arms and listened happily.

About halfway through the chorus, Michael's beautiful, angelic voice began to fade away as I slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

*********

OUTFITS:

#5sos #michael clifford #michael 5sos #5sos imagines #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of smut #5 seconds of summer imagines #wattpad #fanfiction #fluff #angst

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mooifyourecows · 2 years ago

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i've seen this girl on tiktok lately who is japanese and she's spending time in america, idk if she's just visiting or has moved here or whatever, but she's just excitedly doing things that she doesn't do in japan, and its so cute

like i saw one where she's just giggling and waving at strangers and getting waves in response and like yeah! that's so adorable! and thats one of the things that i personally really like about american culture too! the random waves or smiles or even full on conversations with strangers thing. i have anxiety and am terrified about talking to people but even i love that stuff so much

my partner is a super friendly and approachable guy and there are times when he comes home from work and is like "so i was talking to this guy i met at the grocery store and he told me about his divorce and [other personal things you wouldn't typically speak to a stranger about]" and i find it so endearing and funny. like i know he's an easy guy to talk to but still

even antisocial me has had some random conversations with strangers and i just thought that was normal and that people were like that everywhere

one time i was in a dispensary and a guy started talking to me telling me he liked my shoes and then went on to have a conversation about how people got their drugs in the hood in NYC, like he was all "you just walk up to your plugs house and they slip it through the door and you just leave, ain't that wild? it's the same in this place but like, official" like yeah random man standing in line behind me at the drug store, that's super interesting and i'm glad you decided to give me this information!

farmers that pass me when i'm on my walks will pull up beside me and say hello and point out how fun it is that the neighborhood dogs will join me

there was a guy that worked at the walmart where i lived in idaho and every time i'd go shopping he would start talking about his life to me like "my wife just had a baby and i love her so much, i can't wait to go home and play with her" or "my wife and i went to a metal concert and it was wild, got so drunk, had a blast" like YES tell me MORE!!!

my sister and i were driving around the city one night and we saw a guy who i'm pretty sure was doing some graffiti behind this building and my sister just hung out the window of her car and was like "hey what are you doing?" and he told her he got hired to paint a mural on the building and she was like "sick, whatcha gonna draw? how much did they pay you? you do it at night?" and they had a full fuckin convo and then when we were driving away my sister was like "he's totally lying lol"

if you got tattoos showing, people are gonna ask about them, wonder at their meaning, ask if they hurt, tell you their own plans for tattoos or show you the ones they got

the chatty cashiers are gonna ask about my plans for holidays and tell me theirs and also what they bought their grandson and everyone EVERYONE is gonna talk about the weather and it's always the same conversation but it's always so friendly and ends with "well, have a nice rest of your day!" and i dunno man i think it's cute

i have a LOT to complain about when it comes to america, like i genuinely believe it's hell on earth sometimes, but there are times when i see a video of buskers on the street getting passersby to dance and sing along with them, or a crowd of young people stop to watch a stranger pull off a sick move on his skateboard and they all surround him with cheers and hugs, and i see ladies stop each other to compliment their outfits and shower each other in praise before continuing on their way with a big smile and i remember that there's so much good too man idk it just gets me. i really like these people🥲

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chaoticrebels · 1 year ago

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NAME : Rory Novalie Graves NICKNAME : Ro, Ry, Nova, Rylie by her bestie, Oreo by her parents only. AGE : 24 BIRTH DATE : Dec 26 GENDER : Female ORIENTATION : Bisexual NATIONALITY : American LOCATION : Tempe, Arizona PROFESSION : Streamer, Cosplayer, Hacker, Make Up Artist & Nail Technician ZODIAC : Capricorn SPECIES : Human SPOKEN LANGUAGES : English, French, Korean HEIGHT : 5'3” WEIGHT : 118 lbs HAIR : Dark Brown with Purple usually dyed in it. EYES : Brownish Green TATTOOS : None PIERCINGS : None SCARS : None FACE CLAIM : Landry Bender

Biography

Rory Novalie Graves was born at midnight on Dec 26th in Tempe, Arizona to Skylar and Avery Graves. She has a younger sister named Kyra Athena Graves {@fiercehearts}, which growing up she had to deal with her baby sister in and out of the hospital due to an serious disease she had. And due to that, most of the attention went to her. Which caused Rory to feel semi invisible but she loved her sister, although sometimes she wished that she was an only child. But other times, she wished she could make a deal with God to swap their places so her sister could have a healthy and happy life while she suffered instead. And yet she knew how impossible that was because if God was real then why doesn’t he or she help the poor unfortunate souls who need it? She didn’t know.

As time went on, Rory began to get really into make up and nail art. So much she began streaming as she created masterpieces on her friends and herself. Making it her after school job, bringing in her own income to help lessen the burden on her parents. And on the side of that, she would get paid to hack into things. Her only rule being that it would be nothing that would get her jail time if caught, she didn’t need to put that stress on her parents. She did that enough with her rebellious ways.

By the time she finished high school, Rory was all but ready to go out into the world and explore. But she ended up going to college in Boise, Idaho with her best friend. Taking courses in a few different fields but mainly sticking to art and design, yet she kept streaming on her free time. And on her vacations, she would travel home to visit her family until Kyra left for college. After that the sisters completely lost touch, while the eldest would get in touch with their parents from time to time.

Over the next couple of years, life had became quite busy for the female. She was gaining popularity as she started to adventure into doing more than make up and nail art on her streams, she started to cosplay and put on little stories for her viewers with her friends. She was living her best life and it seemed like it was only getting better, she even began dating. A few months after that her friend got a job offer in Toronto so she ended up moving to Canada, she had only been in Toronto when her parents where planning on driving down to visit her. And as excited as Rory was, she was also nervous. Had a strange feeling in the pit of her gut but she shrugged it off, just focused on making sure everything was ready for their visit. But then came the call that turned her world upside down, her parents were in a car accident and they didn’t survive. Her heart nearly stopped, she always assumed she’d get a bad news kind of call one day but about her sister.

It had taken not even a day for Rory to pack her suitcases, to rush back home. If she thought she was nervous about seeing her parents, she was wrong. She was a mess knowing she had to see her sister again after all these years of no contact, on the worse day of their lives. She didn’t know how that was going to go but she did know one thing, she had decided then and there she was moving back home.

#☯ 。゜ ⠀ ☆ ⠀ 。゜ ⠀ ★ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀𝘿 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 ﹕Rory

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bucklikethedollar · 2 years ago

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i love a tag game i love talking about myself i love @knightrelic for tagging me in this

1. nickname: bucky actually is my nickname! my last name is buck, so bucky was kind of a natural next step lol. even my dad used to be called bucky when he was younger

2. sign: pisces sun, libra moon, gemini rising. i do not believe in astrology and the only one of those i knew off the top of my head was my sun sign lol

3. height: 5’11, but that bumps up to 6’ if i wear my docs

4. last thing you googled: “did chadwick boseman do his own singing in get on up”. my dad and i watched it last night and i was curious lol. for those interested: it was mostly recordings of james brown, but but boseman did do some singing in select parts (he was great btw) and all of his own dancing!

5. song stuck in your head: father and son by cat stevens. i have a playlist called “most beautiful songs ever written” and that’s on it

6. amount of sleep: i went to sleep at around 3, and technically woke up at like 10:15, even though i stayed in bed and chilled for like 45 minutes before getting up, so that’s ~7 hours

7. dream job: tattoo artist! saving up for my third tattoo rn, and i wanna see if there are any shops looking to take on apprentices or receptionists or something as soon as i have the time

8. wearing: cassette tape socks, green pants with a chain for a belt, plain black sweatshirt, red & blue flannel, and earrings that look like i have screws stuck through my ears

9. books/movies that define you: not 100% sure if i understand this one, but i’ll just ramble a little i guess lol. movies: my own private idaho, bill and ted’s excellent adventure, monty python’s meaning of life, the muppet movie, walk hard, the silence of the lambs, the wall. books: house of leaves (mark danielewski), johnny got his gun (dalton trumbo), the raw shark texts (steven hall), the martian (andy weir), the time machine (hg wells), eunoia (christian bök) , frankenstein (mary shelley), the great gatsby (f scott fitzgerald). that is… more than i intended to list for either category lol

10. favorite song: in general it’s the re-recorded version of bloodstains by agent orange, but i’ve been listening to a lot of showtunes recently so hosanna fro jesus christ superstar and try me from she loves me are up there too

11. instrument: i’m mainly a singer & guitarist, but i also play ukulele and harmonica (i’m a bit better on ukulele but it’s been a looong time since i’ve practiced lol). i’m working on learning poems, prayers, & promises by john denver on guitar rn and man is it a doozy. guy fucking loved his altered travis patterns huh

12. aesthetic: i have,, no idea. sometimes (usually when it’s warmer) i lean a little towards grungy, but nowadays i look a little more like a cool librarian just cause it’s cold, but then i tend to look kinda preppy when i have to dress up for something, and i also have “sexiest person at this grocery store” disease so it’s… kind of all over the place. i like fun socks? i wear a lot of jewel tones??

13. favorite author: there are very few authors of whose works i have read more than one, but my all-time favorite book (house of leaves) was written by mark danielewski, so i’ll go with him. that being said, madeline miller writes gorgeous prose, james joyce has fantastic control of the english language (even if ulysses murdered me), and andy weir is fucking hilarious

14. fun fact: ooo lemme think. my belly button is off-center. i can wiggle my ears. my mom owns a car that used to belong to billy joe armstrong and i got to drive it to my senior prom. i can tap dance. i have a small but growing collection of funny mugs i find at thrift stores. i don’t know how to dive. i once drank worcestershire sauce on a dare from my sister. i’ve lived in arizona my whole life but i’ve never seen the grand canyon.

i guess im supposed to tag 14 people for 14 questions but like bracken said i don’t know 14 peoples so i’ll just tag @commander-vas-normandy @mattmurdockspainkink and @localmvthman along with anyone else who wants to do it! :•)

#bucky’s thoughts #probably went a little overboard on most of these but as previously mentioned i like to talk about myself lol

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chirsu · 2 years ago

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Once, in the dining hall of a certain boarding school—it was my second and nothing fancy—I met a ghost. I'd been talking with two friends, but due to all the seven o'clock din, the place being packed with fellow gorgers, it was almost impossible to hear much of what anyone said, unless you shouted, and we weren't shouting because our conversations had to be kept secret. Not that what we said offered a whole lot of anything new. Not even variation.

Girls.

That was all. One word to pretty much sum up the whole of all we cared about. Week in, week out. Where to meet them. What to say to them. How not to need them. That was unattractive. Girls could never know you needed them, which was why our conversation had to be kept secret, because that's all it was about: needing them.

Back then, I was living life like a ghost, though not the ghost I'm about to tell you about. I was all numb & stupid and dazed too I guess, a pretty spooky silentiary for matters I knew by heart but could never translate for anyone I knew let alone myself. I constantly craved the comforts of feminine attention, even though the thought of actually getting a girlfriend, one who was into me and wanted to be with me, seemed about as real as any dozen of the myths I'd been reading about in class.

At least the same guy who explained my attachment to junk, The Counselor For Disaffected You—I mean Youth—, helped me see how influenced I remained by my past. Unfortunately it was a lesson delivered tongue in cheek, as he ultimately believed I'd made most of my past up just to impress him.

About one thing he was right, my mother wasn't actually dead yet. Telling everyone she was though made my life far less complicated. I don't think anyone at the boarding school, including my friends, teachers, certainly not my counselor, ever found out the truth, which was fine with me.

That's the way I liked it.

My arms, however, were another story. It's kind of funny, but despite my current professional occupation, I don't have any tattoos. Just the scars, the biggest ones of course being the ones you know about, this strange seething melt running from the inside of both elbows all the way up to the end of both wrists, where—I might as well tell you—a skillet of sizzling corn oil unloaded it's lasting wrath on my efforts to keep it from the kitchen floor. "You tried to catch it all," my mother often said of that afternoon when I was only four. See, not nearly as dramatic as a Japanese Martial Art Cult run by Koreans in Indiana. I mean Idaho. Just a dropped pan. That's all.

As for the rest of the scars, there are too many to start babbling on about here, jagged half-moon reminders on my shoulders and shins, plenty stippled on my bones, a solemn white one intersecting my eyebrow, another obvious one still evident in my broken, now discolored tooth, a central incisor to be more precise and some even deeper than all of the above, telling a tale much longer than anyone has ever heard or probably ever will hear.

All of it true too, though of course scars are much harder to read. Their complex inflections do not resemble the reductive ease of any tattoo, no matter how extensive, colorful or elaborate the design. Scars are the paler pain of survival, received unwillingly and displayed in the language of injury.

My Counselor For Disaffected Youth had no idea what kept me going—though he never phrased it exactly like that. He just asked me how, in light of all my stories, I'd still manage to sustain myself. I couldn't answer him. I know one thing though, whenever I felt particularly bad I'd instantly cling to a favorite daydream, one I was willing to revisit constantly, a pretty vivid one to, of a girl, a certain girl, though one I'd yet to meet or even see, whose eyes would sparkle just like the Northern Sky I would describe for her when once while sitting on a splintered deck heaving on top of the black-pitch deck of the world, I beheld all the light not of this world.

Which was when, as I was briefly revisiting the same daydream in the presence of my two friends, I heard a voice in my ear—the ghost—softly saying my name.

[...]

"Johnny" she said in a sigh even more gentle than a whisper.

I look around. No one sitting at my table was saying anything even remotely like my name. Quite the contrary, their voices were pitched in over some egregiously felt debate over something having to do with scoring, the details of which I know I'll never recall, thrown up amidst the equally loud banter of a hundred plates, glasses, knives and forks clattering here and there, and yes everywhere, serving to quickly dispel my illusion until it happened again—"Johnny."

For an instant then, I understood she was my ghost, a seventeen year old with gold braided hair, as wild as a will-o-the-wisp, encountered many years ago, maybe even in another life, now encountered again, and perhaps here too to find me and restore me to some former self I lost on some day no boy can ever remember—something I write now but not really even understanding though liking the sound of it just the same.

"He's so dreamy. I just love the way he smiles when he talks, even if he doesn't say that much."

Which was when I realized, a moment later, that this Ghost was none other than the domed ceiling, rising above the dining hall, somehow carrying with particular vividness, from the far wall to my wall, in one magnificent arc, the confession of a girl I would never see or hear again, a confession I could not even respond to—except here, if this counts.

Sadly enough, my understanding of the rare acoustic dynamics in that hall came a fraction of a second too late, coinciding with the end of dinner, the voice vanishing as suddenly as it appeared, lost in a cumulative leaving, so that even as I continued to scan the distant edge of the dining room or the line forming to deposit trays, I could never find the girl whose expressions or even gestures might match such sentiments.

Of course, ghostly voices don't just have to rely exclusively on domed ceilings. They don't even have to be just voices.

I finally hooked up with Ashley. I went over to her place yesterday morning. Early. She lives in Venice. Her eyebrows look like flakes of sunlight. Her smile, I'm sure, burnt Rome to the ground. And for the life of me I didn't know who she was or where we'd met. For a moment I wondered if she was that voice. But before she said even a word, she held my hand and led me through her house to a patio overgrown with banana trees and rubber plants. Black, decomposing leaves covered the ground but a large hammock hung above it all.

We sat down together and I wanted to talk. I wanted to ask her who she was, where we'd met, been before, but she just smiled and held my hand as we sat down on the hammock and started to swing above all those dead leaves. She kissed me once and then suddenly sneezed, a tiny beautiful sneeze, which made her smile even more and my heart started hurting because I couldn't share her happiness, not knowing what it was, or why it was or who for that matter I was—to her. So I lay there hurting, even when she sat on top of me, covering me in the folds of her dress, and her with no underwear and me doing nothing [...]

Before I left she told me our story: where we'd met—Texas—kissed, but never made love and this had confused her and haunted her and she had needed to do it before she got married which was in four months to a man she loved who made a living manufacturing TNT exclusively for a highway construction firm up in Colorado where he frequently went on business trips and where one night, drunk, angry and disappointed he had invited a hooker back to his motel and so on and who cared and what was I doing there anyway? I left, considered jerking off, finally got around to it back at my place [...] It didn't help. I was still hurting, abandoned, drank three glasses of bourbon and fumed on some weed, then came here, thinking of voices, real and imagined, of ghosts, my ghost, of her, at long last, in this idiotic footnote, when she gently pushed me out of her door and I said quietly "Ashley" causing her to stop pushing me and ask "yes?" her eyes bright with something she saw that I could never see what she saw was me, and me not caring though now at least knowing the truth and telling her the truth: "I've never been to Texas."

— House Of Leave, Mark Z. Danielewski

#she speaks #liveblogging #quotes #I highlight the word house and turn it blue. Tumblr than corrects me and turns the whole paragraph blue and I must do it all over again #I'm on mobile #house of leaves

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poohkeepsee · 3 years ago

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I was going through my AO3 bookmarks, and I wanted to organize them a little bit. These are my Dean/Cas canon-ish fic recs.

season 5

canticles by 2street2car Words: 10,311 Chapters: 1

“But you know something? If I couldn’t get you laid, at least I gave you a good first date.”feat: footsies at a Ruby Tuesday, stargazing, the recreation of an iconic "Dirty Dancing" scene (no, not that one—the other one), and practicing for When You're With A Girl.

FTBYAM MY BELOVED

post season 6

Someone Who's Feeling For Me by ellispark Words: 45,876 Chapters: 1

Dean sees her for the first time in nearly six years in some no-name town in Idaho, and it's panic at first sight.

Lisa Braeden, the one woman Dean ever actually had a shot at a real life with, back from where he buried her in his mind. And her hand is on Cas's arm like it's no big deal, like it belongs there. Cas, Dean's dorky, sweet, badass, angelic best friend, and he's just standing there next to Lisa and not moving her hand away.

Dean feels the jealousy rising, and it's not directed where he expected it to be. Because it takes this exact moment for Dean to realize he's in love with his best friend. He's in love with his best friend, and Lisa is looking at Cas like he's the best thing since automatic rifles, and Dean is utterly fucked.

post bunker

Sun Can't Set Until Nine by LeverDrift Words: 67,939 Chapters: 16

Cas moves into the bunker as his powers start to fail. Dean doesn’t know if the arrangement is as permanent as he wants it to be. He's also not sure why he keeps dreaming about his friend. All he knows is that he wants Cas to stay. Overall warnings: canon-typical miscommunication & Dean having self-hatred issues.

Life Skills by ilovehowyouletmefall Words: 26,052 Chapters: 3

After Metatron steals Castiel's grace, and Cas comes to live in the bunker, Dean spends a lot of time with him, sharing all of his favourite things. Dean can't help it if sharing things with Cas just makes everything better. Besides, it's Dean's job as Cas' friend to introduce him to the joys of human life. To teach him how to be human. And if one of the experiences they end up sharing is sex with women, well... that's just part of Dean's job as Cas' friend too, right? The desire is triangulated, the rituals are intricate.

Sam Stole My Boyfriend by sobsicles Words: 8,445 Chapters: 1

“Dude, you’ve been staring at me a lot lately, like even enough that Sam noticed. More than usual. So, like, what’s up?” Dean pauses, purses his lips and reconsiders. “What did I do?”

Cas knows that would be a perfect time to confess to Dean what exactly happened and what he was thinking. Maybe, Dean had some insight into the situation or even some kind of comfort to offer. But, the longer that he sat there, he realized that he could not tell Dean absolutely anything. So instead, for the first time, Cas fumbled.

“Um,” Cas mutters and abruptly stands. “Freckles?”

Dean blinked up at him as Cas pivoted and left the room. There was only one remaining option he had and unfortunately, it involved Sam.

Aching in the Absence of You by sobsicles Words: 95,090 Chapters: 10

Brittle and battle-worn, Cas looks at him over coffee one morning and says, "I need to go," and Dean instantly knows that he's not coming back.

He's not really sure how he knows it, but he does. It settles into the pit of his stomach, curling hot and tight like something he instinctively wants to tear out with his bare hands. He takes a breath, and it gets stuck in his throat, hitching there. It hurts, hurts, hurts when he finally exhales.

"Yeah," Dean says, "of course you do," and he nods jerkily as he looks down at his phone. He doesn't say goodbye. He doesn't look up from the screen when Cas gets up and leaves the room. He doesn't finish his coffee, or move for a long time.

By nightfall, Cas is gone.

'Communication' by JustAnotherSamlicker Words: 11,656

The same story told from two perspectives.

Dean bought a house and he and Cas fix it up.

Is Dean moving out? Is Cas moving in?

Should they just talk to each other already? (Yes they should)

Build a Home by domesticadventures Words: 20,102

After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them.

He doesn't

season 10

The Most Important Thing by NorthernSparrow Words: 94,462 Chapters: 14

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car? (Canon-divergent from S10E11, when we first met Claire again and Dean was still struggling with the Mark of Cain. Takes places several months later).

season 12

Heroes for Ghosts by pantheon_of_discord Words: 42,922 Chapters: 7

Canon-divergent from 12.08

After Sam and Dean are arrested, Castiel is left alone and scrambling to find them. He knows they’re locked away in a government facility, and he’s still able to hear their prayers, but no matter how he tries Castiel can’t seem to track them. He chases leads and even attempts to hunt on his own, but Mary is AWOL, Crowley refuses to help, and Castiel’s options are running out.

Weeks pass, Castiel’s hope dwindles, and through it all Dean prays, keeping them connected. His voice is comforting, frustrating, and occasionally annoying, but in his solitude Castiel comes to cherish it. But then one day, without warning, Dean stops praying, and Castiel is forced to confront some uncomfortable truths about his feelings.

season 13

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees) by sobsicles Words: 74,173 Chapters: 8

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

Trial and Tribulations of Raising a Nephilim by Sickandtiredofyou Words: 14,910 Chapters: 6

Dean has far too much on his plate, losing his mom, his best friend and now being a single parent to a newborn nephilim.

In which Jack is an actual newborn instead of a teenager.

post season 13

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d's to the destination) by sobsicles Words: 108,427 Chapters: 4

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

Cas hums again. "I think you already have. It's been months since everything settled. All that's left to do is...get used to it, and perhaps—" His voice stalls out, uncharacteristically, and his gaze roams Dean's face with intensity. When he speaks next, his tone is a little raw. "Perhaps what one does with peace is...whatever they want."

"What if I don't even know what that is?" Dean grumbles, arching an eyebrow in challenge. "'Cause I know damn well you don't just mean good food and a good bed and time in Baby, not simple wants like that. You mean—ya know, the big things, the wants we didn't get to have before."

"Yes," Cas agrees. "If you're not sure, figure it out."

"Easier said than done."

Reasons to read this:

Dean reads a story that ends like despair and his reaction is FUCK THAT

Cas wears Dean's hoodie

Jack is a toddler

The Jack and Claire sibling energy we deserve

Eileen being awesome and pulling pranks with Dean while Sam thinks she's an angel

Sam knows

YOUR HONOR THEY'RE IN LOVE

First Date by aeli_kindara Words: 8,968 Chapters: 1

“We should go on a date. You and me.”

Castiel wishes he could see Dean’s face. He wishes he had any idea what to say.

“I’m asking you out, Cas.”

Also known as the Dean Winchester makes the first move fic.

season 14

Broken Road by thegeminisage Words: 109,629 Chapters: 7

A 14.13 Lebanon rewrite. When Dean uses a wish-granting pearl to try and kill the archangel Michael before he can escape the cage in Dean's head, they instead wind up with a newly-resurrected John Winchester.

It's been more than a decade since John died, and a lot has changed: Mary is alive, Sam and Dean have what passes for a proper home in the Men of Letters Bunker, and they're living with angels. John doesn't know angels are real, he doesn't know about the fragile new relationship between Dean and Castiel, and most of all, he doesn't know that Dean said yes to Michael, or that Dean's plan to defeat Michael would send him to a fate worse than death.

Now Dean must contend with both his father asking questions he can't answer, and his loved ones learning about the darker truths of his childhood, all while constantly battling the archangel trapped inside him. But Dean coming to terms with his history may be the difference between this being the beginning of a journey—or the end.

post season 15

fools and pilgrims by lagaudiere Words: 31,904 Chapters: 2

Claire shows up at the bunker a day before Dean was planning to leave, with her hair cut short and a fresh tattoo on her left arm under a bandage. Chuck is dead, Jack has given up his godlike powers, and Cas is back from the Empty, which doesn't make it any easier for Dean to talk to him. Suddenly finding himself in a world without monsters, supernatural forces, or any need for hunters, Dean's solution is to go on a road trip. Claire tags along.

Dean-Claire mirror fic post Despair

what's missing is found (our souls can exhale now) by sobsicles Words: 27,403

It's not the first time Claire has ever gone missing. It is, however, the first time Kaia panics about it. Dean's dragged into the mess, but he soon finds that it's the best thing that could have happened to him.

canon(?) au (Hunters and Men of Letters)

Dean Winchester's Secret (Angel) Boyfriend by reluctantabandon, Winter_of_our_Discontent Words: 11,191 Chapters: 1

Dean Winchester isn't exactly a team player. So when he starts mentioning a new Hunting partner, Ellen and Jo Harvelle aren't sure whether they should be worried or relieved.

But they're starting to get the feeling there's something important Dean's not telling them about Cas...

Shot Through The Heart by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim) Words: 11,191 Chapters: 1

Dean is a hunter.

Castiel is a Man of Letters.

And even though they have to work together on a regular basis, there is not much sympathy between them. Castiel thinks Dean too brash and reckless while Dean in return sees nothing more in the other man than a rude asshole with an obsessive love for books and a truly terrible fashion sense.

But fate clearly has a funny way of throwing those two together over and over again.

And somewhere along the way feelings change into something neither of them would have expected.

#destiel #deancas #fic recs

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heroofpenamstan · 3 years ago

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—OC PROFILES: JOANNE & MICHAEL

tagged by the lovelies: @shallow-gravy, @shellibisshe, @belorage, @honeysides, @strafethesesinners, @faithchel, @blissfulalchemist! thank you, dears! x since i’m tragically late to the party as per usual, not going to be tagging anyone since i assume most of my mutuals have done it, but if you want to go right ahead and tag me too so i can see! :”)) also, fair warning: 80% of the questions i answered at ungodly hours overmedicated on paracetamol and it shows because re-reading this in the morning was a Yikes

GENERAL

name: joanne burton alias(es): jo, annie ( mike exclusive ), burton, dep, jr. deputy, rook, traitor, sinner, wrath/pain in the ass ( john exclusive ), rabbit ( jacob exclusive ), heinous fucking bitch—( also john exclusive ), black widow ( new dawn au ) gender: cis. female age: 29 birth: 30th october, 1988 place of birth: meridian, idaho spoken languages: english; may or may not recite some hebrew lines over the holidays sexual preference: bisexual occupation(s): junior deputy of hope county, montana/menace to all cultists everywhere ( in a certain radius of said hope county, montana, anyway )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: brown hair colour: black height: 157cm ( 5′2 ), or approximately 7′11 when balancing on michael’s shoulders to peer inside john’s windows scars: split right eyebrow ( thanks, jake ), minor cuts and incorrectly healed bruises and gashes, scarred bullet wound on left hip ( you’re welcome, jake )

FAVOURITE

colour: orange or yellow or cyan, or whatever is more stupidly eye-catching and not at all fit for her current environment song: i’ve been thinking by handsome boy modeling school food: various stir-fries, fruits and protein ( or anything that she claims to be “healthy” when, truly, bitch is one step away from living off of instant noodles and canned pineapple and cigarette buds from dutch’s stash ) drink: beerherbal teas and infusions

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, but passing the police academy was already a pleasant enough surprise for her had sex: today? no. two weeks ago? probably had sex in public: probably said two weeks ago gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes, but we don’t talk about it kissed a boy: yes ( derogatory ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate ) gotten tattoos: yes, loads: most were practice scribbles for her ex-girlfriend, and the only true meaningful one she possesses is lydia, scrawled into her pinky in remembrance. otherwise, john seed do not even engage with that rusty ass tattoo gun— gotten piercings: yes, loads multiplied; if there’s a place for a piercing in her ears, she has them. also, an old septum piercing she hasn’t worn in a hot second been in love: yes, loads squared ( girl rents out her heart on the weekdays and cries about the scratches she notices on saturday, but still repeats it all over again come monday; falling in love for her is easy, but actually loving someone and getting over her self-loathing to do so is a whole different ball game ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: she’s probably on hour 31 as we speak ( someone knock her out pls )

ARE THEY

a virgin: whitehorse has heard enough horror stories in the break room between her and joey to last him a lifetime a cuddler: closeted cuddler, yes a kisser: most definitely; woman has to play up her natural assets scared easily: her response time is too lagged for that jealous easily: depends; she’s more jealous of what she should have/could have/would have had in a general sense than being jealous of a particular person or a thing trustworthy: in her own way, yes dominant: disgustingly so submissive: not in this lifetime in love: very much so single: very much so part 2

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, but it’s more by means of unintentional yet severe substance abuse thought of suicide: not as often as one would assume; joanne has a very strong sense of self-preservation, but tends to run from her bleak reality by means of one harmful way or the other attempted suicide: once or twice during her lowest points in life wanted to kill someone: on the daily have/had a job: girl had juggled three part-time jobs; there is nothing she fears anymore have any fears: ( see above ) to fall back into old bad habits, loss of control, death, failure, a bad future, poverty, being abandoned and forgotten, long stays at a hospital, the judges, the bliss, the power of john’s hair gel

FAMILY

sibling(s): micah burton ( older brother ) parent(s): abigail burton née belman ( mother ); jim burton ( father ) children: asher seed ( daughter in new dawn au ) significant other: jacob seed ( circumstantial lover/”could do without” mentor/#prisonwife #prisonhusband #imkidding #kinda ) pets: boomer for the cuddles, cheesecake for the throttles ( bitch naturally attracts the judges but will forget her dog 101 and run away like what does she think will happen then?? )

GENERAL

name: michael scott-hughes alias(es): mike, mikey, mickey ( mary may exlusive ), mike the bike/fall’s end’s bicycle, resistance’s poster boy, manwhore, cassanova, the archangel ( joseph exclusive ), the antichrist ( also joseph exclusive ), war dog, hughes boy ( fairgrave exclusive ) gender: cis. male age: 30 birth: 6th july, 1988 place of birth: fall’s end, montana spoken languages: english, russian, basic chinese mandarin and turkish sexual preference: pansexual occupation(s): residential shady, shady man ( international arm’s dealer, most recently demoted to local resistance leader and occasional general goods store co-owner )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: green hair colour: brown height: 181cm ( 5′11 ), and 6ft on tinder jkjk man’s confident enough to not grasp for that extra inch, unlike someone ( john ) scars: heavily burnt left hand ( from trying to fish out his ex girlfriend’s boiling corpse r.i.p. to that steaming puss— ), gash on his right temple, nicely healed gun wound on left shoulder, not so nicely healed amputated right hand ( man’s not having the best time in my canon, is he ), various incorrectly healed cuts and bruises

FAVOURITE

colour: green and rustics song: wild world by yusuf/cat stevens food: unlike the faker above, michael actually likes to cook and eat healthy meals, so anything from salads to veggies to oatmeal to soups will do ( and meat; man’s been a vegetarian for a grand total of 4 days in his entire life ( or 14, if you count the time he got abducted to john’s bunker womp )) drink: sugary drinkswhiskey, fresh juices, “water can be so, so sexy, annie—”

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, though michael really busted his ass to self-educate on subjects that will be beneficial to his line of work had sex: we stopped keeping tabs and numbers nearly ten years ago had sex in public: we stopped blinking at these types of shenanigans nearly ten years ago too gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes? no? maybe? ( mike’s too afraid to even think about it, but hopes he hasn’t fathered any babies any time soon ) kissed a boy: yes ( affectionate ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate² ) gotten tattoos: yes: the sword of damocles on his left inner forearm, intertwined snakes running across his right ribs, a tiny smiley face on his ass lord save him gotten piercings: yes, and everyone hated his attempt to revive the 90s with his lil earring like c’mon you already have a reputation of being a sleaze— been in love: yes, but surprisingly not as many times as one may think ( truthfully, three times: mary may, lana, joanne mary may again ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: sometimes it just cannot be helped

ARE THEY

a virgin: maybe in a past life as an amoeba a cuddler: yes ( try to escape his hold during a summer night i’ll give you 5 bucks if you can break the deadlock ) a kisser: he just exists to smooch at this point scared easily: truthfully, he’s quite desensitized as is, so it’s really hard to truly rock him jealous easily: no; though he might get a bit petty and bitter if someone mentions merle and mary may becuase, like, c’mon, mary—merle briggs? trustworthy: one of his better traits, but past events have shown that boy tends to lose some of his morals for love dominant: yes submissive: yes part 2 man will accommodate and switch it up in love: often single: loosely, often

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: michael has bad mental health trips stemming from having a lot of insecurities as a child; these may evolve into bad habits and pure recklessness on his part to prove his worth thought of suicide: these thoughts don’t come often, but when they do, it’s harder for him than most to shake them off and recover attempted suicide: once, during the boiling pit incident wanted to kill someone: yes, but it comes more from need than want usually have/had a job: yes, though no retail until he was 30 and stuck providing hope county with slugs and bullets have any fears: loneliness, rejection, abandonment, repercussions and consequences, not being good enough, powerlessness, loss, the angel pit, the process of dying

FAMILY

sibling(s): none, but: jackson hughes ( uncle ) parent(s): jessica hughes née scott ( mother ), david hughes ( father ) girl i have his whole family tree drawn up like you wouldn’t believe children: andrew hughes ( son in new dawn au and maybe canon ) significant other: mary may fairgrave ( childhood sweetheart/awkward ex/once in a rare cosmic event fuck buddy/volatile lovers ) pets: peaches loves him she doesn’t; she just wants to chew on his hair

#tag game #deputy joanne burton #michael s. hughes #oc: get to know jo #oc: build a bicycle #my stuff #far cry 5 oc

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whichstoodonrockyshores · 4 years ago

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7/52, thanks to @alex-fa-ch for letting me do Wy! Very cool of you.

I didn’t even bother doing his state flag skin, as you will never see him using it unless someone asks him to. Sorry for the background being kinda shit but *shrugs*. Onto headcanons!

🦬 He’s almost never called Wyoming. Most people just call him Wy, unless they’ve literally never met him before.

🦬 He/Him, Gay

🦬 He has a large scar on his side from a suicide attempt, and a brand on his other side. Those are the reasons he really doesn’t take off his shirt. He also has a small tattoo on his inner ring finger of his first husbands initials, J.P.D. He hides this was his current wedding ring. He’ll say he doesn’t have any tattoos if asked.

🦬 Though he does want more tattoos! He just hasn’t gotten to it yet.

🦬 Celebrates his birthday on July 10th, but December 10th (Wyoming Day) is also a special day to him where he takes some time to himself.

🦬 Loves horses, but isn’t the best at controlling riding them. His actual favorite animal is the bison! He thinks they’re majestic creatures, and absolutely hates they became endangered from over hunting. He’ll cry if he sees a bison injured.

🦬 For a long time, the other states thought Wy would never get a power, because he was a human before becoming a state. This was quickly proven wrong when very recently he unlocked his power: wind manipulation. He can practically fly, makes huge tornadoes, and pick people up with this power. It is semi-emotional though, so if he gets emotional enough he will start a storm in the house.

🦬 Wy isn’t the type to hate someone, but he dislikes Texas a lot. He always finds himself arguing with him about all sorts of stuff, but it’s mainly petty and dumb shit. The only people Wy can genuinely say he hates are Hungary and Brazil, two of his ex’s.

🦬 But he loves most of his siblings. He’s very close with Montana, New Hampshire, and surprisingly, Texas. Even though they dislike each other, they know each other better than they like to admit. He also is friends with Maine, Missouri, Idaho, both Dakota’s, Alabama, and Utah. The others he can get along fine with, but he doesn’t know them very well. 🦬 He likes all animals, but isn’t the fondest of dogs. But he loves cats, ferrets, weasels, rabbits, and all reptiles. 🦬 Most of Wy’s relationships are full of drama, but his first husband wasn’t like that. His name was Jon, and they were together before Wy was a state, when he was just a cowboy. They loves each other dearly, but when the gang spilt up they never saw each other again. Jon did send letters, though.

🦬 His other relationships were either toxic or didn’t work out. Well, until he met his current partner. He slept around a lot, not seeing any reason not to. He was lonely, after all. This is when he met Hungary, Brazil, and a few other minor boyfriends. None of them worked out, which hurt every time.

🦬 His current partner, is West Florida. (in most canons, Wy’s husband or fiancé, belongs to @gamergenia). They didn’t meet in the best circumstances, but after a lot of pining from Wyoming they ended up together. And then they got married with their two cat children. And their many, many reptiles.

🦬 Has a daughter, Cheyenne. He loves her half to death, but sometimes wishes he was a better father to her. He feels like he failed her, somehow. But she doesn’t really mind.

🦬 If you misgender Hamilton he’ll just kill you on sight, no questions asked.

🦬 Is completely illiterate in every language. He can’t read or write in any way. He speaks English and understands Spanish, but struggles with actually speaking it. Has a thick Southern accent, which he picked up in his cowboy days. If you ever call him stupid for this he’ll just send you flying onto the ocean without hesitation.

🦬 Despite how he usually comes across, is probably one of the worst states when it comes to meeting new people. Wy likes to ask questions and often intrudes a little too much too early. He kind of sucks at making new friends because of this, and his tendency to talk a lot.

🦬 Is almost completely unaware of what happened in the Revolutionary and Civil Wars. In fact, he barely knows American and World history outside of “we fought some wars with each other, that sucks.”

#TAKE THIS YALL #hope you like it #suicide mention #i covered the basics without getting too angsty I hope #love you Alex you’re the best ❤️#Wy #ocs #my ocs

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aeipcthys · 3 years ago

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╰ ❛ 💉 — › lucien laviscount. cis-male. he/him. ╯ have you met elijah wells yet ? this twenty seven year old leo has been living in the seattle area for six months. he makes a living as a surgical intern, which is best suited for their outgoing, resourceful, ignorant, and arrogant personality. tipsy by j-kwon is one of their favorite songs.

trigger warnings: death, alcohol, drug mention

full character page here

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: elijah james wells

Nickname(s): wells, ej when he was a high school douche maybe

Age: 27

Date of Birth: july 23, 1994

Hometown: boise, idaho

Current Location: seattle, washington

Ethnicity: mixed (african-antiguan, white)

Nationality: american

Gender: cisgender male

Pronouns: he/him/his

Orientation: heterosexual, heteroromantic

Status: single

Religion: nah

Political Affiliation: he’s the type that doesn’t pay attention you know

Occupation: surgical intern

Living Arrangements: he has an apartment (a roommate????)

Language(s) Spoken: english

Accent: american

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: lucien laviscount

Hair Color: dark brown

Eye Color: dark brown

Height: 5'11 (lies and says he’s 6′0)

Build: fit

Tattoos: yes, stupid things tbd

Piercings: none.

Clothing Style: fuck boy asdfsdjf

Usual Expression:

HEALTH

Physical Ailments: none.

Neurological Conditions: we’ve got some childhood trauma

Allergies: none.

Sleeping Habits: when he’s out he’s out

Eating Habits: he eats a lot, literally whatever he’s not a health nut

Exercise Habits: he works out never misses leg day

Emotional Stability: lol come on...why else would he be here

Sociability: he’s social

Body Temperature: 98.6 F

Addictions: none.

Drug Use: yes

Alcohol Use: yes

PERSONALITY

Label: fuck boy is that a label

Positive Traits: humorous, outgoing, resourceful, confident

Negative Traits: ignorant, greedy, arrogant, selfish

Fears: ending up alone/without anything of substance

Hobbies: video games i’m sure

Habits: smoking, being an idiot

FAVOURITES

Weather: sunshine babeyyy

Colour: dark colors idk yet

Music: bops only

Movies: movies are long he only likes stupid ass ones

Sport: this dude likes NASCAR can you believe it

Beverage: beer probably, always enjoys a beveragino

Food: all

Animal: he has a beta fish

FAMILY

Father: idk i forgot to ask angie

Mother: lily wells (deceased)

Sibling(s): rebecca goldmann (half-sister)

Children: none.

Pet(s): none.

Family’s Financial Status: lower class

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: leo

MBTI: enfp

Anything Else:

BIO

Elijah James Wells was born to a couple of teenagers in the summer of 1994. Despite his father being in another relationship with another woman, Lily was essentially his rebound girl. His rebound girl that, of course, quickly turned into the woman carrying his child. Lily didn’t know at the time that the man she had hooked up with was *also* having a child with another woman in Calgary. Lily had only been visiting Canada on a semester abroad when she became pregnant, opting to return to her home in Idaho following it. She wasn’t sure, at first, if she wanted to keep the baby, being so young and all. But the thought of having a child grew on her, and eventually, she decided to keep him.

At first, Elijah’s father had no intention of being apart of his life. Lily knew that if she decided to keep the baby, she would most likely be raising him on her own. But, that was alright with her. She’d have her older sister to help her out. As far as she was concerned, Elijah’s father was off the hook. That was, until, there were complications during Elijah’s delivery. Complications that ended up claiming Lily’s life. At that point, Elijah’s father felt an obligation to take custody of Elijah, even though he had no clue what being a parent entailed.

Elijah grew up living with his father, but he wouldn’t consider him to be the man who raised him. His father was in and out, unsuccessfully trying to balance being young and having a young child. Lily’s sister Pamela stepped up, being in her mid 20s at the time Elijah was born. His father definitely took advantage of her, relying on her more than anyone to take care of Elijah. Pam even financially supported them from time to time when he struggled to hold down a job. And because of this being one of the only constant presences in his life, Elijah gravitated to Pam. Hers being the closest relationship he’s ever had.

As Elijah got older, his resentment towards his father grew. He had no problem being vocal about the lack of *fathering* the man had done. And just like many other troubled kids, Elijah began to act out. He became the kid who was often sent to the principal’s office. So much so, that his father stopped showing up when they’d call him, forcing Elijah to wait there for hours on end. This only angered Elijah more. His behavior continued, stretching through to high school where he fought to raise his social status. He thought even if his life felt like crap on the inside, he would put together an attractive exterior. So he did, hanging out with the jocks and attending high school parties. Drinking, smoking, all of it was part of his weekend routine. And he fought with his dad about it. Constantly. Elijah didn’t even care about school…that was, until his father told him he would end up just like him. That made Elijah want to do better just to spite him. And what was the most impressive thing he could think of? Being a doctor. So that’s what he would do.

Elijah wasn’t any impressive kind of smart. He was average, but thanks to some connections, his aunt was able to get him into a pre-med program in Atlanta. Elijah went to school and did a lot of the same crap that he had been doing in high school, only on a bigger scale. He was the guy at frat parties, different girls coming and going from his dorm room at all hours. He was a nightmare of a roommate *and* a student. Elijah really had to scrape his way by, by whatever means necessary. He wasn’t above cheating or doing the bare minimum just to get by. He tried his best in the important classes. At least, that’s what he would tell you.

Elijah continued on to medical school by the skin of his teeth. His program had a high acceptance rate, and if it wasn’t for that, he probably wouldn’t have gotten in. He was lucky in that way, and although he tried to keep up, even there Elijah found himself falling behind. He constantly had to rely on other people to make his work look better. Sometimes this worked for him, sometimes it didn’t. But it became clear to him if something didn’t change, Elijah wouldn’t have a hope of finding a good match for his residency. So, he did what he knew how to do. Found a way around the system.

When it came to take Step 2 of the United States Medical License Examination, Elijah payed someone else to take the exam for him. That combined with a good essay about his upbringing resulted in Elijah’s match at the SGMW surgical residency program.

CURRENTLY

Elijah knows very well that he is not unto par, but he feels like he’s cocky enough to distract from it. He’s just scraped all of his life, so what’s to stop him from doing that now? He needs to become a surgeon, both to show up his father and give back to his aunt. There’s no other alternative for him.

Although he’s serious about making it, that doesn’t mean he won’t have a little fun while he’s in Seattle. Elijah is an arrogant, fuck boy type, who won’t hesitate to hit on anything that moves. He’s just here to have a good time…unless someone insults him, because that would probably piss him off.

Just like finding out that he has a half-sister (aka Rebecca Goldmann) might do. But only time will tell.

#a mouth full of white lies ( elijah wells. )#( character update. )

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howtodisassembleyourdeviant · 4 years ago

Note

✿ Do you want/have any piercings? ✈ Do you want/have any tattoos? ☢ If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be? ♣ What is your favorite and least favorite thing about your hometown?

✿ Do you want/have any piercings?

I have my ears pierced. I was one of those babies whose mother chose to get them done. They had a habit of closing and my mother would reset them before they could. She got fed up and had me wear earrings for a year straight (they were gold, so they couldn’t corrode when I shower or anything like that). After removing them, they bled a bit, but they never closed again. I don’t wear earrings often as they get caught in my hair, but I have the option. Thought about getting my brow pierced, but I’m too much of a chicken shit to get it done by myself. Not to mention, I really can’t afford it. Probably for the best. I heal so damn fast and I’m really bad at repetitive maintenance.

✈ Do you want/have any tattoos?

Answered Here

☢ If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Pizza. I pretty much only eat it now. Cheese hot-pockets or frozen pepperoni pizza, all with hot sauce on it. I’m only semi-thin because I only generally ‘eat’ one meal a day. I have been trying to remember to drink nutritional shakes (like Ensure or Ovaltine). Used to have the habit down, but after losing the house, I’ve struggled to get back on my schedule. Hoping to keep it going for the new year, along with improving my overall diet. Doing well with the shakes so far, diet still needs work, but I don’t get paid until this Wed.

♣ What is your favorite and least favorite thing about your hometown?

Hometown? As in where I was born? Cause I hate just about everything where I live. Even the scenery is ruined by people. Idaho has no home training.

I loved how close everything was. If I wanted to play in the woods, there was a patch of woodland in-front of my house. If I wanted to play by a lake, there was one only a couple blocks away (never went swimming in it though as we were told bodies were in there. I never doubted it. Granted, my stepdad was the one who told me and, when he was a kid, he used to be babysat by Pee Wee Gaskins, so I didn’t question. If you don’t know who that is, he was a notorious murderer and rapist and a real sick mother fucker. Not so fun fact: Me and Pee Wee Gaskins share birthdays. Even the years both end in 3.)

Least favorite thing is how much religion matters. I was bullied in middle school for studying Paganism. I had rocks thrown at me and had one girl who sat behind me that used to stab at my back with a pencil. Someone pushed me off the top of the benches. My ‘friends’ left me because they didn’t want to be associated with me. I think that’s when I became more cynical of the world. I had enough issues dealing with ADHD (which I did not know I had at the time and my mother suspected but never did anything about. Assumed I’m not ‘trying hard enough’. Not getting into that.) and my grades were terrible, but I thought I had friends that I could depend on. They always said they’d be there with me, and I had known them for years, so to have the ties cut so quickly, just because I was reading a book from my mother’s alter room, it cut deep.

I’d like to say I’ve improved, but I still don’t have friends that aren’t online. Not a lot of people are willing to befriend someone so introverted, and the extroverts that try to cling on get bored when I don’t know how to react (or, in one case, wasn’t amused by his pastime of finding people’s weaknesses and poking at them, ‘pushing buttons’. He couldn’t get under my skin and I made sure to point out what the hell he was doing, so he got annoyed by it.). In the end, if they aren’t willing to get past the shell, they won’t know if what’s within is worth the trouble. I’m no shining jewel, but I have my moments and I’m loyal to a fault to anyone who earns it.

#Munday Meme #detective-with-one-arm

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chicagocityofclans · 4 years ago

Photo

Tom Mills → Tom Holland → Human

→ Basic Information

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: August 7th

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Religion: Chrisitan

→ His Personality

Mills is your typical arts student; creative, artistic and far too critical of himself. He tends to get lost in his own head when it comes to his photography assignments, and can depend on his close friends to pull himself out of it. He is very hard working, doing anything he can to excel in his internship and his schoolwork, however this tends to lend to him finding his work never measuring up to exactly what he wants. Mills has the habit of looking at what he does and finding faults when there aren’t any and then blowing them out of proportion. This is often one of the major causes to his habit of tearing himself down. It is hard for him to see the good in his work that he sees in so many others. Mills has been noted as being rather difficult when it comes people that he doesn’t like and will go out of his way to make sure that he doesn’t have to deal with them, such as not returning home since his freshman year or actively trying to not to do any work that could be used by the Boaz twins.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Full Time Student with a Part Time Photography Internship

Scars: 3 in scar on right shin from a fall as a child

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Monochrome Photography and Darker Skin Girls

Two Dislikes: Being called by his first name (he prefers Mills) and Bad Roommates

Two Fears: Losing Scholarships and Dealing with Finances

Two Hobbies: Photography and Basketball Card Collecting

Three Positive Traits: Creative, Dedicated, Hard Working

Three Negative Traits: Obsessive, Curt, Self-Deprecating

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Grant Mills (Father): The Mills family have lived in Idaho for as long as Tom’s great great great grandparents can remember. He has 6 living generations of Mills. Grant raised Tom as a farmer, he was disappointed when Tom chose to attend college and even more so when Tom decided to leave the state. Tom can count on one hand how many times he and Grant have talked since leaving the house. Because of Grants hostility towards him, after his freshman year, Tom has stopped visiting home for the holidays and summer.

Sasha Mills (Mother): Just like the Mills family, Sasha’s family has been in Idaho and Montana for generations. She has 5 living generations but Tom only knows his grandparents and great grandparent. Tom is sure it's because Sasha had him at 16 years old and her family frowned upon it. Sasha has always been Tom’s number one fan. She was the one to buy Tom his first camera. She has been understanding of him not wanting to be a farmer and has visited multiple times in Chicago, instead of demanding he comes home. Tom loves his mom.

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

None

Platonic Connections:

Ashley Malone (Best Friend): Tom and Ashley shared an elective class their freshman year of college. They had a shared project and bonded over it. Ashley convinced Tom to stay in Chicago for his Masters degree instead of moving after they both graduated from the bachelor's program.

Anya Grace (Good Friend): Tom was unsure about Anya when she started hanging out with Ashley and himself. Anya grew on Tom and now the three of them are inseparable. Anya spends most of her time at Tom’s apartment.

Austin Semler (Good Friend): Austin helped Tom score the internships of a lifetime and is helping him become established in Chicago doing what he loves. He’d have had to go back to Idaho or find some other part time job if it wasn’t for Austin. However, he’s caught a few photos that looked like his with Austin’s name under them. He doesn’t want to lose his shot and hasn’t said anything.

Isla Johns (Friendly): Isla is his contact at the magazine, and despite being his boss, he feels totally comfortable around her. She always gives helpful feedback and seems to really like his work.

Shelton Mills (Unknown Relative): As Tom is the descendant of Shelton’s brother, the two are related, however Shelton has yet to make himself known to Tom.

Simone Campbell (Tutor): Simone is the TA for his Social Sciences elective, and without her he’d be failing.

Hostile Connections:

Tim Boaz (Dislike): Tim has no morals or ethics when it comes to journalism and it does not sit right with Tom. He took a photo of Tom’s, manipulated the hell out of it and ruined a woman’s reputation. After that, he asked Isla if he could steer clear of those jobs.

Lee Boaz (Dislike): Lee has no morals or ethics when it comes to journalism and it does not sit right with Tom. He made up stories to go along with the edited, damaging photos. After that, he asked Isla if he could steer clear of those jobs.

Pets:

Lucky (Golden Retriever): He got Lucky as a puppy this spring, and loves her. He can’t imagine not owning a dog after having her.

→ History (paragraph(s) on background) → The Present (paragraph(s) on background)

→ Available Gif Hunts (we do not own these)

[1][2]

#Tom Mills #OM #OMH #OH #Tom Holland

2 notes · View notes

ma-sulevin · 5 years ago

Photo

aaaaaAAAAHHHH

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw/Female Deputy Rating: E Warnings: Canon-typical violence, but nothing particularly explicit I don’t think Word Count: 5436, chapter fifteen of sixteen.

Read it on AO3 instead and say nice things.

---

Mattie slips out of Sharky’s bed just before dawn and gets dressed in the gray light of his kitchen. It doesn’t feel like a real day, not yet. It feels like something different, too still and quiet, and it feels like if she says anything out loud, even goodbye to Sharky, the spell will break.

He’s going to be furious that she’s doing this again, but she can’t help it. She can’t make herself put him in front of Joseph.

Whatever’s happening, whatever has been bringing her back time and again, this black white black that has been tormenting her since she stepped foot on Joseph’s compound for the first time however many weeks ago… it’s between her and Joseph.

She can’t bring anyone with her.

Whatever’s happening is going to end today.

She pulls her burned flannel back on and tiptoes outside, and she drives until she can’t see his trailer behind her before she turns her headlights on.

He’s going to be furious.

But he’s going to live.

And right now, that’s all she can give him.

She keeps the radio off and the windows cracked as she drives well below the speed limit to Joseph’s compound. Her burn doesn’t hurt as much as it did before she fell asleep, healing faster than she would have expected, like the rest of her wounds have, like the bullet wound she got escaping John’s bunker that went away after a few days, or the broken ribs from Jacob that disappeared too, but it still puts out a lot of heat that makes the rest of her feel colder.

She can’t stop shivering.

The sun is up by the time she makes it to the little island, the clock on the car’s radio reading a confusing 3:52, and with her smartphone long since destroyed, she’ll probably never know what time this really happened.

She follows the drive as it moves from public road to private lane, the only indication she’s changed locations the sudden privacy fence that borders the road on both sides. There’s only one way forward now, and she follows it with a growing sense of dread that literally makes the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand on end.

It feels almost like the first time they came here, the sense of building dread and wrongness getting higher and higher the closer and closer she gets to Joseph. It feels like she shouldn’t be here, but with something undercutting that too.

The black white black and the bone-deep knowledge that she’s the only one who can be.

The drive takes her past the front entrance, the one she walked through a hundred lifetimes ago, and to the side, where she parks next to abandoned cars and crates of supplies. She parks, leaves the keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked, and tucks her hands into her pockets as she strolls through an open-sided tent that used to house a dozen or so peggies.

It’s completely abandoned, mattresses bare, a pair of boots abandoned on the ground. A note from Joseph tells them to leave and go into the county, that everything is theirs for the taking, and she reads it three times before gently putting it back where she found it.

There’s no point in getting upset about it now.

What’s done is done. She can’t help that a fucking memo put all the citizens in Hope County at greater risk than they had been before. She can’t help that she was part of what plunged this county into chaos.

All she can do is try to put it right.

There’s no one in the church’s courtyard when she steps out into it. The yard is deadly silent and, she suspects, completely abandoned.

She and Joseph are probably the only ones here for miles around.

That thought shouldn’t make her grin in anticipation… but it does.

She keeps her hands tucked in her pockets as she approaches the church doors, and isn’t particularly surprised to see the open bliss barrels on either side of them, or to see the doors thrown open as Joseph walks outside to greet her.

She’s not surprised that he’s not wearing a shirt again, but she is kind of annoyed by it.

What a douchebag.

He only looks at her for a moment before gazing up at the sky. She keeps her eyes on him, watching the rosary sway with his movements. It looks like he just has the one pistol on his hip, matching hers, but she doesn’t know what else he has behind his back.

“And the Lamb broke the fifth seal, and I saw under the altar the souls of the Martyrs, slain because of the Word of God.” He looks at her, finally, and points directly at her. She keeps her hands in her pockets and lifts one eyebrow. “You made martyrs of my family, and I am prepared to do the same to yours.”

Hers? Her family is in bum-fuck Idaho, hours away, and she hasn’t seen them in literally years. Why--

Joseph pushes past her, and she turns to keep an eye on him, and that’s when she sees.

That’s when she fucking sees.

Whitehorse, Joey, and Staci are all bound with their hands behind their backs, pushed forward by the people Mattie’s been fighting beside this whole goddamn time.

Her pistol’s in her hand before she has time to think about it, before she has time to think about whether or not it’s a good idea to draw first, but then… she freezes. There’s too many of them, and they have hostages.

At least Sharky’s safe.

Joseph turns back to her, standing between her and her family, and something about his face looks pleased even though he’s not smiling. “God is watching us. And he will judge us on what we choose in this moment.”

Mattie licks her lips and stares hard at Joseph, frozen in place. Up until now, she’s made it through by pushing through, by just steamrolling her way through almost every situation. But here? Now? She can’t move fast enough with a single pistol to get out of here in one piece.

He moves closer, slow measured steps that are meant to frighten her with his calmness. “I told you that we were living in a world on the brink,” he says, stopping just a hair too close. “Where every slight, every injustice, where every choice reveals our sins. And where have those sins led us? Where have those sins led you? Your friends have been taken and tortured and it’s your fault. Countless people have been killed and it is your fault. The world is on fire and it’s your fault. Was it worth it? Was it?”

She swallows hard and refuses to let herself lean away even as he takes another step closer. She tightens her grip on her gun, staring into his eyes, tongue caught between her teeth, mind moving a mile a minute. What can she do?

What can she do?

“When are you gonna realize that every problem cannot be solved with a bullet? When you first came here, I gave you the choice to walk away.” He moves around her as he speaks, drawing her attention around until she’s facing the open doors of his church again. He stares at her, eyes sad, lips turned down at the corners, and says words she never thought she’d hear from him again. “You chose not to. In the face of God, I am making you that offer one last time. Put down your guns, and you take your friends. You leave me my flock, and you go in peace.”

His anger shines through as he makes his offer.

He doesn’t want to do this.

He wants to put her down as much as she wants to put him down.

He grits his teeth and he points at her, and she bites her tongue hard enough for the bright taste of blood to bloom in her mouth again.

“Go in peace?” Joey’s voice draws them both, and she turns to look at her friend even though she knows she should keep her eyes on Joseph. “You’re fucking insane.” Joey’s struggling against her bonds, moving restlessly as she glares past Mattie at Joseph.

“Is he?” Staci’s voice is hoarse, raw, and Mattie’s suddenly keenly aware he must have been screaming before he was brought here. What happened to Jude? “We never should have been here in the first place.” He turns his pleading eyes to Mattie and her heart breaks all over again.

He shouldn’t have to be put through this.

Mattie looks at Whitehorse. This shouldn’t be her decision. It shouldn’t have been her responsibility to arrest Joseph in the first place, and it shouldn’t have been her responsibility to free her friends, and this shouldn’t be her responsibility now.

What fucking twist of fate has brought everything down to this moment?

“You know what to do, Rook.”

Fuck, that’s not helpful.

She turns back around to Joseph, who walks right up to her and spreads his arms so she can read each and every tattoo covering him. He looks up, at the clearest blue sky she’s ever seen, then back at her.

“God is watching.”

Fuck God.

Mattie takes a deep breath.

And then another.

And then she nods.

She’ll take the deal.

Joseph closes his eyes and takes a deep breath too, then he spreads his arms again. “Judge not,” he says, looking at the sky, “and you will not be judged.” He takes Mattie’s biceps in his hands, squeezing just this side of too hard, and leans so close into her space she could bite his nose off. “Condemn not and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven.”

He pulls her in and touches his forehead to hers, and she bites her tongue even harder to keep from snarling.

“Take your friends, my child, and go.”

He releases her, and she turns to see her friends getting up too, released from their bonds by the others Joseph’s controlling. Wheaty and Jerome walk past her to Joseph, close enough that she can smell the bliss rolling off them in waves, and her stomach twists.

She’s going to get them help.

This is the best way.

She would do anything to keep them safe, even passing off Joseph’s fate into the hands of the National Guard.

Whitehorse struggles to his feet, sore from his mistreatment. “Rook? Let’s go.”

He’s back to calling her Rook now. She doesn’t care for it.

“What? What are you doing?” Joey grabs her as she tries to walk past, eyes wide and wild. “Rook? Sheriff?”

“Get in the truck.” Whitehorse isn’t looking back at them. Staci’s shoulders are hunched, his head bowed, she’s sure if she could see his hands she’d see nails bitten raw.

“I’m not leaving.” Joey’s mad, so fucking mad, so mad she’s forgotten who signs her paychecks.

Staci’s already climbing in the backseat.

“Hudson, get in the truck.”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind!”

Joey walks right up on Whitehorse, and she’s not prepared for him to turn and yell, right in her face and at full volume, “Get in the goddamn truck!” She leans back and stares at him, eyes wide, and doesn’t say anything else. “Sometimes it’s best to just leave well enough alone.”

Yeah.

Yeah, sometimes that’s fucking better.

Joey gets in behind Whitehorse, and Mattie climbs in the passenger seat in front of Staci. She wants to reach back and take his hand, but she sits facing forward and stares at Joseph as he surrounds himself with the rest of the Resistance members, all under the influence of the bliss.

Who is going to protect them?

Joey manages to stay silent until they’re back on the paved road that leads off the island.

“Sir,” she says, leaning forward between the two front seats, “with all due respect… what the fuck? We can’t just leave those people…”

Whitehorse cuts her off with the same soft voice he used whenever Mattie was crying in his arms. “We’re not leaving those people,” he says, and Mattie can feel her whole body relaxing. They’re on the same page. “We’re going to Missoula. We’re gonna get the National Guard, and we’re gonna bring the hammer down on that goddamn place.”

He glances over at Mattie, and she smiles as she nods back at him.

That’s exactly what she wanted.

The National Guard can go in and fix it, and she can stay far, far away from anything that would send her back into the black white black again.

This is the ending she was after.

“No.” Staci’s rasp from the backseat has her tensing again, and she turns around to stare at him. She reaches a hand out and he doesn’t even acknowledge it, too twisted in around himself to accept any sort of comfort from her. “No way. I’m not gonna be a part of this. You heard what he said.”

Whitehorse doesn’t have time for this either. He looks back over his shoulder and says, “You’re gonna do exactly as you’re told, Pratt.”

He glances at Mattie as he turns to face the right way again, and he smiles at her for half a second before looking at the road and turning the radio on.

She relaxes back into her seat as the last few notes of a song filter through the peggie truck’s speakers, smiling to herself because she can’t help it.

They’re finally free.

They’re going to be safe.

They’re going to get help.

The first notes of the next song are like a knife to the gut. They feel exactly the same -- the pain, the twisting sensation, the absolute knowledge that she’s going to die.

“Only you…”

Staci screams from the back seat.

Whitehorse looks over his shoulder at him, then at Mattie.

“…can make this world seem right…”

She doesn’t know what she looks like. All she knows is she’s starting to see red around the edges of her vision, that sparks are obscuring Whitehorse’s face, that she can’t hear Staci’s screaming anymore as the song gets louder and louder and louder.

“Only you… can make the darkness bright…”

All she sees is darkness. All she can hear is the song. All she can feel is the recoil of her pistol as she empties the clip. All she knows is what she was made to do.

Train.

Hunt.

Kill.

Sacrifice.

Black.

White.

Black.

Don’t make me do it again.

I can’t do it again.

Let me go.

Please, please, let me go.

I’ll do anything else you want, but I can’t do it again. I can’t. I don’t know how.

White.

Black.

Red.

You have to do it again.

Do it better.

Choose better.

Black.

White.

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

Why?

Why me?

You were chosen as he was chosen.

Do better.

Red. Black. White.

She’s still staring at Joseph, who’s still standing too close to her with his arms spread so she can read each and every tattoo covering him. He looks up, at the clearest blue sky she’s ever seen, then back at her.

“God is watching.”

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, unchecked, her gun loose in her hands.

Joseph blinks at her, but doesn’t react otherwise, just the briefest hint of confusion on his usually reserved face.

Why

why

why is she doing this again?

Why won’t the voice let her rest?

She sucks in a deep, deep breath, so deep it makes her feel sick, and as her head spins once she thinks she’s going to throw up right in Joseph’s face but she doesn’t, she pulls it back together, she holds it down.

The voice.

Is this the same voice he hears?

Is he on his own time loop? Has he been looping through his own future options all these years, all these years that the cult has been operating? Did the voice that told her to do better tell him to move to Montana?

How can she call him crazy when the same thing is happening to her?

She takes another breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth.

Her options are to walk away with her family or fight back.

She walked away before.

She’s supposed to choose better, to do better.

That means… she’ll have to fight.

She shakes her head at him, squares her shoulders, corrects her grip on her gun.

And she shakes her head again.

Joseph takes a deep breath, lowers his chin, and growls through gritted teeth at her. “Every slight, every injustice, and every choice reveals our sin. John was wrong. Your sin is not Wrath. You would rather watch the world suffer and burn than swallow your Pride.”

John was wrong. Joseph’s wrong too.

Her sin was never Wrath or Pride.

It was always Envy. She was envious of kids who got to go to school, envious of kids who got to keep their mothers, envious of kids whose fathers loved them, envious of kids whose family didn’t turn on them. She was envious of the people who didn’t have to fight against the cult, and now she’s envious of people who don’t have to hear the Voice.

It’s not Pride.

Joseph’s is Pride.

“And the lamb broke the sixth seal and lo, there was a great earthquake!”

Oh, okay. She wasn’t expecting the ground to literally shake when he did that?

That’s… fucking new.

“And the sun became black,” he turns and knocks one bliss barrel over, spilling its contents over the ground so that the fog curls at her feet. She takes a step back, raising her gun, but she falls before she can shoot as he knocks the second barrel over and keeps yelling, “And the moon turned to blood.”

The air goes completely black, then green, then the sun comes back through the fog of bliss.

Fucking bliss.

“Your friends now see the truth!” She can hear Joseph but not see him, and she forces herself to her feet as he continues to scream. “They welcome Eden’s Gate into their hearts! They will die for me!”

She doesn’t know what to do, so she just tilts her chin up and screams, “Fuck you!” as loud as she can.

It gives Staci the opportunity he needs to shoot her in the arm.

She screams and ducks behind the nearest cover, a pallet of bags holding who-knows-what. Sparks dance around her as blood pours from her wound, and she curses whoever taught Staci to aim.

If he’s going to shoot her, he should at least do it right so she can start over and not fucking bleed everywhere.

She struggles with her handkerchief with one hand, pulling it from her neck and sacrificing its limited ability to stop the bliss to tie it around her wound instead. The blood soaks the fabric immediately, but it’s the best she can do, and it doesn’t matter in the long term.

Nothing does except stopping Joseph.

She peeks around the corner of the pallet to see Joey inching closer, and she makes the split-second decision not to shoot. When Joey pops up in her space, Mattie lashes out with the butt of her pistol instead, making sharp contact with Joey’s temple. She reels back, falling to the dirt, and blinks open her eyes when Mattie puts a hand on her cheek.

“Rookie? What the… what the fuck?”

“Yeah.” That’s an understatement. “You good?”

“Yeah, what the fuck -- are you shot?” Joey tries to grab Mattie’s injured arm, but Mattie pulls away just out of reach.

“Listen. I need your help.”

“Anything.”

Mattie smiles. “Whitehorse and Staci are in the bliss. We just need to snap them out of it. You in?”

Joey, to her credit, only takes a second to agree.

“Let’s do it.”

They split up. Mattie sneaks up on Staci while Joey circles around behind Whitehorse, and Mattie can just see Joey hopping on Whitehorse’s back from where she’s hitting Staci over the back of the head with a broken plank.

Both men get up and agree to help, Staci looking at Mattie the exact same way he did when she pulled him out of Jacob’s bunker: full of adoration like she hung the sun.

She doesn’t tell him he’s the one who shot her.

She can’t make herself.

Joseph taunts them as they work, screaming unintelligibly at them as they move deeper into the compound. The wind keeps howling, and the bliss keeps sparking at the edges of her vision, but with so many people fighting at her side…

She doesn’t die.

She knocks over and then helps up Nick and Mary May, Tammy and Jerome, and she can see the crowd growing and growing as there are more people to help.

Maybe… maybe she should have brought Sharky.

Even if he was turned, he could have fought on her side.

He’s going to be… pissed.

“Your pathetic mob cannot stand before the storm!”

She helps up Wheaty even as she scoffs at Joseph, trusting her friends to have her back as she turns her attention away from the cult leader. The last time she saw Wheaty he was raw and suffering, mourning Eli’s death (his murder at her hands), but he smiles at her all the same as she touches his cheek and then helps him stand.

“Everything you’ve done… everything you’ve earned… everything you’ve fought for is for nothing!”

They chase his voice deeper into the compound, dodging flying debris and bullets alike. More of her friends join him, more of her friends fall under sharp strikes from those already rescued from Joseph’s control, more of her friends turn and fight Joseph alongsider her.

This is how she should have been fighting him all along.

This whole fucking time.

“You don’t know what you’re doing! Only I can save you!”

Mattie pulls Grace to her feet in time to see Grace roll her eyes at Joseph’s words, and Mattie could almost kiss her.

They’re almost done.

They’re almost free.

“You have to believe me!”

Joseph is panicked. He’s trapped between them and the church, alone without his followers to back him up, and she has almost everyone who’s fought beside her all this time.

He’s alone and he’s outnumbered and he’s panicking, and Mattie can’t wait to put a bullet between his goddamn eyes.

She turns, and he’s right there, mouth agape and blood on his chest, and she lashes out on blind instinct. Instead of shooting him between the eyes, she manages to punch him there, and he crumbles to the ground.

They watch as he crawls away, not even quite on his hands and knees, sobbing into the dirt.

“Forgive them, Father. They know not what they do.”

Mattie wants to scoff and snarl, oh, are you fucking Jesus now? but all she can do is follow him one step at a time, hands empty and shaking at her sides, as he tries to crawl away from her. She can tell her other deputies -- her family -- are at her side, and she draws what strength she can from them.

Joseph deserves this.

She was chosen to bring him down.

He fucking deserves it.

“And when the lamb opened the seventh seal…” He stops crawling, pushes himself up onto his knees, and turns to look at her with his hands raised. There’s blood pouring down his face, down his chest, bruises forming where he’s been hit, scrapes and grazes covering his torso. He looks like he’s been through hell, and it’s all Mattie can do to listen to the rest of his words. “...there was silence in Heaven, and the seven angels before God were given seven trumpets.” Birds take off from around them, even though the wind has died down. “And there were noises, thunderings, lightnings, and an earthquake.”

From far off, a siren sounds.

Whitehorse steps forward. “Joseph Seed, you’re under arrest.”

Joseph doesn’t react, smiling at Mattie instead, like he knows something she doesn’t. “...and I heard a great voice from the temple say to the angels, ‘go your ways and pour from the vials the wrath of God upon the earth.’”

Whitehorse cuffs Joseph and hauls him to his feet, but Joseph doesn’t care.

He doesn’t even react.

Goosebumps break out on Mattie’s skin again, despite the sweat from the fight.

Something’s happening.

Something… is happening.

Joseph smiles.

Joseph smiles, and the world explodes.

The light blinds her, and she turns away. When she turns back, a mushroom cloud, just like in the vision Faith showed her, grows behind Joseph’s back. He doesn’t look at it, but everyone else does, hands up to shade their eyes from the sight.

His smile grows.

He steps forward.

“It is finished, child.”

He begins to sing as everyone else begins to panic.

“Amazing grace… how sweet… the sound…”

The concussion of the blast nearly knocks her off her feet, makes her ears ring from the force of it. It blows Whitehorse’s hat clean off, and it disappears somewhere behind Mattie.

She can’t take her eyes off Joseph, still singing.

“We gotta go! To the truck! Move, move, move!”

She obeys Whitehorse, running, trying to figure out when the Voice will come back and tell her to do a better job.

What choice did she have?

What could she have done differently?

It told her to do better, and she did better!

Right?

Didn’t she?

She ends up in the driver’s seat, but she doesn’t know how, pressing the pedal to the mat as the tires spin out and they barely make it out of the compound. Joseph keeps singing. Staci screams and then starts to say a Hail Mary as though she would help when no one else has. Joey screams.

Joseph

keeps

singing.

Dutch’s bunker is the closest, so she tries to go there, but…

Staci’s right.

They’re not gonna make it.

A tree lands on them, and everything goes black.

Are you there?

Where are you?

She opens her eyes and everything’s still on fire. The world is woozy, and she feels sick. What’s the rule about nuclear bombs? Was that one close enough to poison them all, or far enough away to be survivable?

How long does it take radiation poisoning to set in?

“Attention. Attention. This is the emergency broadcast system. Take shelter immediately.”

Her head aches. Her stomach is trying to claw its way out of her. Her shoulders are caught and her hands…

Her hands are tied together.

“This is not a drill. Repeat. This is not a drill.”

Joseph is standing with his back to her. Dutch… Dutch is on the floor, unmoving, in a pool of his own blood, a victim of his own willingness to help.

“You know what this means?” She looks back up, and Joseph is dragging a chair over to sit just in front of her, just out of reach of her kicking legs if she had the energy to move. “It means the politicians have been silenced. It means the corporations have been erased. It means the world has been cleansed by God’s righteous fire… But, most of all… it means I was right.”

He leans closer, and she spits in his face.

He doesn’t even react.

“The collapse has come. The world as we know it… is over. I waited so long… I waited so long for the prophecy that God whispered in my ear to be fulfilled. I prepared my family for this moment, and you took them from me.”

He leans forward again and wraps one hand around her throat. He squeezes. She bares her teeth. “I should kill you for what you’ve done, but you’re all I have left now. You’re my family. And when the world is ready to be born anew, we will step into the light.”

She can feel her heartbeat around his fingers, slowing as the world starts to turn a beautiful, restful black around the edges.

“I am your father… and you are my child. And together, we will march through Eden’s Gate.”

He lets go of her and sits back. Smug. Fucking smug.

She leans to the side and vomits.

It’s red, so red.

Full of blood and sickness and the damnation that comes from making the wrong choice at the end of the world.

Are you there?

Is it time?

Help me.

Help

…

“Why me? Why me?”

She rages and she fights and still the Voice doesn’t answer her. She waits in the red of the black white black and she rages and she screams.

It’s not until she calms that she hears it, so still and small, just like she was always taught.

Because now you know. Now you know what is coming, and you know how to stop it.

“I don’t know anything! I don’t know anything! I’m not the one to stop it! I can’t!”

There’s another long silence as she floats, the red around her calming to a white as she breathes in and breathes out.

One, two, three.

From the beginning, now. Make a different choice.

She wants to ask what choice.

She wants to ask.

She can’t.

Black.

White.

Red.

Black.

Start again.

Tears are streaming down her face, unbidden, unacknowledged. Joseph stands in front of her once more, still shirtless, but inside instead of out. His hands are outstretched to her, supplicating, his face free of blood or bruises, and behind him…

Behind him…

Jacob stands, his chin up, his eyes wild.

John touches his ear, the one she shot in the church, and he bares his teeth.

Faith presses her hands to her stomach where Mattie’s bullets tore through her.

Joseph just smiles.

Mattie looks to her left, where she remembers Burke standing in the church, and he’s there, mouth agape, one hand pressed to his throat. To her right, Whitehorse stands, staring back at her. He inhales and exhales slowly, still staring.

He remembers.

They all remember.

“Put down your guns,” Joseph says, pulling her attention back to him against her will. She never fucking wants to look at him again. “Take your friends. Walk away.”

This… this is the choice she didn’t take.

This is the choice she should have.

Stopping Joseph, stopping the end of the fucking world doesn’t start with arresting him here..

All the death… all the destruction can be stopped now.

It can be minimized.

They just need… help.

“God is watching us. And he will judge you on what you do in this moment.”

Yeah.

She knows.

She lived it.

Joseph… Joseph knows, too.

The Voice told him just as it told her.

He’s just had more time to accept it.

She nods at him, and he lowers his hands.

She looks at Whitehorse, and he nods too.

He knows.

He looks at Burke, then back at her, and then he heaves in a heavy breath. He looks so much older, suddenly, like the weeks that haven’t actually happened yet have aged him so far beyond his years.

“We’re leaving,” he says, and she nods.

Yeah.

They are.

Joseph lets them walk out. His brothers, Faith, let them walk out. The peggies let them walk out.

Joey’s waiting by the door, hand on her pistol, back against the wall, face pale and green all at once. She grabs Mattie’s hand, and Mattie holds it, tugging her along behind as she starts to walk as fast as she can without running.

“What the fuck happened, Rook?” Joey’s voice is quiet but high-pitched, panicked on the edge of hysterical. “Last thing I know I’m looking at the end of the world and now--”

“Shut up,” Mattie hisses. “Wait.”

Joey falls silent.

They climb in the helicopter, in their old seats, and Staci turns to look at Mattie too. His face is as pale as Joey’s, the scars from Jacob’s torture gone.

She pulls the headset on so she can speak through the mic. “Just go back to the station.”

He nods at her like she’s the one in charge, flips some switches, and takes off.

The ride is silent.

She closes her eyes and puts her face in her hands, curled in on herself as much as she can.

Did I do the right thing?

Did I do it right?

Am I free?

She waits for the Voice to answer.

The Voice is silent too.

#joseph seed #earl whitehorse #staci pratt #joey hudson #far cry 5 #sharky x deputy #oc: mattie covington

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aboysbestfriendishismum · 5 years ago

Text

Chapter 55 – Wine, puzzles and Spoon Men (Part Two)

In the previous chapter: Meg and Angie go shopping for wine, food and sexy clothing for the romantic date with Eddie. They also discuss a sketch made by Meg for a tattoo based on the puzzle concept. Eddie arrives at Angie's apartment as she's at the window, trying to open a wine bottle with the help of a boot because she's got no corkscrew. The evening goes on quietly despite the fucked up heating system, Eddie's emotional turmoil caused by the half nakedness of Angie and her legs, and embarrassing moments, but it's also time for some intimacy between them. Angie thinks that the date she planned so well, has now turned into a disaster. Eddie can't read the mixed signals she sends to him, since one minute she teases him and one minute later she backs up. He suggests once again telling someone, maybe Meg, about their relationship.

"Come back soon though, ok?"

"Yeah, sure" as if it made any difference. One look at Eddie, at his half closed eyelids and his hair spread on the pillow, and I get up from the bed to go to the bathroom. I find myself face to face with the huff and puff version of me in the mirror, I open the cabinet on the left and grab the cotton pads and the make up remover. As I clean my face and see the make up pad become dirtier and dirtier I think about how useless the whole initial preparation was. What was the point of making myself pretty... well, trying to... if it led to nothing? I thought this could be the right time but then, when we got to bed, after kissing for a while, Eddie calmly pointed out I had still makeup on and that it seemed strange to him that I wasn't going to remove my make up before going to bed, since I'm always 'so meticulous'. Meticulous my ass! Everything went wrong tonight: the wine fell out of the window, the romantic music was turned off almost immediately, candles and flowers? No one gave a fuck about those. Nor for the t-shirt, no comments about it... and now? He even told me to go and remove make up. Congrats Angie, you surely impressed him. I throw the dirty pads in the bin and since I'm here I decide to brush my teeth.I look in the mirror as I try to sync the movement of the toothbrush with the one of my sad head-shaking. Do you really believe that with one wine bottle more Eddie would have had sex with you? Are you sure that putting on a different album you'd have had Eddie throw himself at you as soon as he got here? Or that the slutty nightgown Meg suggested would have turned him on more? Can't you see the problem is not in these stupid things, neither in the kind of flowers or in the color of your lipstick? You can put lipstick on a pig... but it's still a fucking pig. It's so evident he doesn't like me, Eddie can say whatever he wants with words but his actions send a completely different message. I rinse my mouth, towel my face, put the toothbrush back into the blue glass and, as I notice the face cream jar right next to it, it's like a supernatural creature suddenly showed up to me, not the ghost of Hamlet's father, but Meg, hands on her hips, saying stuff like '... anti-age creams are bullshit to make money. The only way to delay wrinkles is moisturize and keep your face off the sun...'. I moisturize a lot with this sweet scented stuff, slapping my face a little in the process with the pretext of letting my skin absorb the product well. I turn off the light and go back to my room. Eddie is turned the other way and he's probably already sleeping. And he suffered from insomnia. Since I started hanging out with him, I've never seen it taking him more than ten minutes to fall asleep: either he's a liar or I cured him. I get into bed and pull only the sheet up because it's still hot. At this point Eddie rolls over in the bed to face me, he kisses me on the cheek and rests his head on my shoulder. He also reaches out and tries to touch my belly but I promptly block him and place his hand on my hip. Looks like it all took me less than ten minutes.

"Uhm... so good..." Eddie kisses me all over the right side of my face, basically nibbling on my cheek.

"Do you... do you like it...?"

"I love this scent. And then... you're all so... creamy..." I try and not react because, I mean, it's not like you can only take the pieces of me that you like: either you like all of me or nothing, take it or leave it. But Eddie's arguments are very convincing as always and I end up rolling in the bed with him N times, a little on my side, a little on his side of the bed. And I'm even more at Eddie's mercy here, in the almost total darkness of my room, since I can't see or anticipate his moves, which surprise me every time. Why does it feel like he has, I don't know, ten hands? Why does he touch me like that? It should be illegal. It's too good not to be illegal.

We roll again,Eddie ends up over me, there's a lot of passion going on and a very small amount of fabric covering us and... and Meg is really anasshole and I gotta beat her up one day because I blame her and the stupid things she said this morning if now I have to bite the hell out of my lip not to laugh at Eddie's face. I can almost see her, standing here at the end of the bed, folded arms and smart ass face, as she's asking me What about now? Is he dying once again?

"Angie?" Eddie's deep and panting voice wakes me up from my silly thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you?"he asks me and doesn't stop moving over me but simply takes it slower, making it all even more intense if it's even possible.

"What... what do you mean? I'm here"

"Physically. But your mind is somewhere else" ok, how can he do it? How can he know it? Can he see in the dark like cats and saw me making one of my weird faces? Can he read my mind? Considering my thoughts right now, I hope not.

"It's your fault... you... you make me dizzy"

"Oh really?"

He's dying pretty bad, isn't he?

Shut up, you jerk!

"Well, yeah" I answer and my eyes are getting used to the dark too because I can see clearly both the color blue of Eddie's eyes and the sparkle that briefly lights them up and sends some kind of smirk to his irresistible lips. I touch them with my fingers and he kisses them one by one, before attacking my mouth once again and I can't reason anymore, I can't think of anything that's not his breath, his skin,his hair tickling my neck, his teeth, his hands that... god, I...

"Wanna sleep?"

"Huh?" what did he say? Wait, when did he stop kissing me.

"I said, do you want to sleep a little?" he repeats and this time I can hear him, and I feel him stroking my hair as I can only see white dots in the dark.

"Ok" I reply.

I'm such a loser. I fall for it. EVERY. FUCKING. TIME. But this mess must end: either we're friends or a couple. Either we have sex or we don't have sex. I mean, either we have sex or we do NOTHING.

He took his time to die, didn't he?

Fuck you, mental projection of Meg!

"Do you have to wake up early tomorrow? I'm asking you 'cause I gotta mentally prepare myself to your killer alarm clock" he jokes and I'd really knock out all his beautiful teeth with a punch right now.

"Not that early, the killer alarm clock rings at half past eight"

"Hehe wow, I'm lucky then" he laughs and rolls away from me, lying on the other side of the bed.

"Right. So... good night"

"Good night, Angie" I feel him crawl under the sheets towards me, he rests his forehead against my temple and takes a deep breath. I basically squeeze my eyes shut and hope to fall asleep soon "Angie?" but Eddie nullifies my plans by calling me again.

"Yeah?"

"What about the good night kiss?"

"Haven't we kissed good night already?"

"I don't think so, when?"

"Like... two minutes ago? And we kissed more than once?" I stay still and keep my eyes shut.

"But those where another kind of kisses, they weren't good night kisses"

"No?"

"No"

"Is there a specific type of kiss for saying good night?"

"Sure. And they even gave it a name, you know? Someone calls it... good night kiss"

"Very original"

"Can I have one?"

"One what?"

"One good night kiss"

"Ok"

"Ok?"

"Ok, let's go with the good night kiss" and I said I was quitting a moment ago.

"Yeah?" Eddie's breathing slowly agains my cheek, it seems like he's almost holding his breath from time to time.

"Yes, you can kiss me" Resolve is my second name.

"Uh. I can" he says with a weird voice. One second later his lips are on mine for a peck, then he turns away on his side "Night"

"Good night Eddie" was that all? Well, it's better this way, isn't it?

I'm alone. Ok,Eddie's here in bed with me, but it's like I'm alone. I keep on tossing and turning between the sheets without getting any sleep. Now I've been lying looking up, in complete silence and perfectly stil lfor at least five minutes, focusing on the ceiling in search for something interesting. If I were at home in Idaho, now I'd have Frou Frou to talk to, my favorite humidity stain/little horse/imaginary friend. I inspect the cracks in the plaster trying to assign them a known meaning, the shape of a person, an animal, a random being I can legitimately ask a question a grown up would ask. Not that the things I told Frou about were only children stuff but I honestly can't picture myself asking my childhood's imaginary four-legged friend why my boyfriend doesn't want to fuck me. Or I should say, why my friend who's not attracted to me keeps on playing the girlfriend and boyfriend game. If I ask myself the same question, well, I already know the answer. I need a fake external interlocutor who can balance my insecurity saying that maybe it's not me, maybe he can't just forget his ex or he's got some intimate problem or he's simply asexual and doesn't know how to tell me. Those mould signs, don't they vaguely resemble a salamander? Couldn't the salamander tell me some of that bullshit? So I could then retort that fussing with complicated theories is just stupid when the answer is almost always the easiest one. I mean, to come up with the Occam's razor in a more convincing way, I need a cross-examination, a debate, I can't do all by myself. By the way, rather than a salamander, it looks more like a fish. Umph, maybe I'd better close my eyes and try and get some sleep. I turn on my side again, looking towards the door.

"Is everything ok?" for a moment I almost think it's Patti Smith's poster speaking, only with a sleepy and very more masculine voice.

"Yes, Eddie"

"Can't you sleep?"

"No" and neither can you, I'd say.

"I could open this window too, what do you think?"

"No, I mean, we shut down the radiator. And we've already opened the window in the other room, I don't want to catch a chill"

"Ok"

"I'm not warm anyway"

"Don't you?"

"No. What about you?"

"Uhm no, I'm fine"

"Ok then" I say and hope he'll stop right here and go back to sleep. I can't wait to hear him snoring.

"Why can't you sleep then?" holy shit...

"I don't know..."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No" I answer, maybe a little too quickly.

"Are you sure?"in the semidarkness I can see my boots at the end of the bed and the urge to use one of them to hit his head and knock him out is strong.

"Yes"

"Sure sure?"stronger and stronger.

"There's nothing wrong, Eddie, really. I don't know... maybe I had too much to eat, maybe it's just the thoughts, you know..."

"Which thoughts?"of course he must focus on the second part.

"Normal thoughts,about normal stuff" we're dangerously close to my tolerance limit.

"Like what?"

"Like things I have to do tomorrow"

"What do you have to do tomorrow?"

"Normal stuff, like... grocery shopping, paying the rent, cleaning the windows"

"You don't have enough money to pay the rent, right?"

"Sure I got the money!"

"I can't see what's keeping you awake then" the danger is getting closer.

"'Cause there's nothing wrong, I told you"

"Other thoughts?"

"No"

"Are you sure?"once you cross the limit, you can't go back.

"No. Well, there's one problem actually"

"Really? What is it?"

"IT'S THAT I'M FUCKING SICK OF THIS FUCKING SHIT, EDDIE!" I blurt out as I switch on the lamp on the nightstand and sit up on the bed.

"Angie wha-"

"CUT THE BULLSHIT, I'M FUCKING DONE WITH THIS!" I yell at his face again, startling him and making him and the mattress under our butts tremble.

"Too many questions, huh? Sorry, I'll let you sleep..." Eddie looks kind of intimidated when he apologizes, because he can't understand shit of course, poor him. And that just upsets me more.

"SLEEP MY ASS! I DON'T WANNA SLEEP!"

"Ok"

"AND YOU WON'T SLEEP EITHER"

"Alright..." Eddie, who was about to turn away on his side, realizes it's better to sit up just like me. I'm breathing heavy and fast, I'm sulking and my arms are folded over my chest. From time to time our eyes meet, mine are probably crazy, his are perplexed, but nobody speaks for a long time. Eddie's the one who breaks the silence "Do you want us to talk about it?"

"Yes" I reply before a deep sigh "I think it's really time to talk about it"

"Ok"

"I'm all ears" I mean, he's doing on purpose, isn't he?!

"YOU'RE ALL EARS?? YOU ARE LISTENING TO ME?!"

"Uhm... no?" Eddie's trying hard not to lose his composure and look calm but he's failing.

"NO! I'm listening to you, I am the one who listens, you are the one who has to talk!" I try and take control back because I'm scarying myself.

"Me?"

"Sure, you owe me an explanation"

"How can I explain if I don't even know what you're talking about?"

"Why don't you want me?"

"Huh?"

"Why are you with me if you don't like me?"

"WHAT?" thi stime he's the one who loses his temper and launches a shrill cry at my face.

"You know it's true"

"Angie, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Why don't you wanna have sex with me?"

"Oh my god" Eddie looks down and holds his head between his hands as he shakes it.

"I mean, I know I'm not a hot chick but..."

"Angie"

"But you keep saying we're a couple and... if two people are a couple they're supposed to like each other, in every sense"

"I like you in every possible and imaginable sense"

"So... so why don't you show me?"

"I don't show you??" Eddie looks up at me as if I had just said the earth is flat or something.

"Why don't you wanna do it... with me?"

"Do you really think I don't want to?"

"Well, yeah ,considering nothing's happened yet"

"Angie, I'm literally dying to... I so want to make love to you"

"Then why don't you-" I actively ignore his choice of words.

"I'm only waiting"

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to be ready"

"Ready? But I am,I'm so ready!"

"I doubt it, Angie"

"Look I... I'm...I'm not a virgin anymore if that's what you think" the mere thought of being here having this conversation with Eddie makes me want to die but I can't stay in this limbo of uncertainty for ever.

"I know, I mean, I guessed..." he answers with a rather tense grimace and I can't help remembering the times he unwillingly caught Jerry and I in unmistakable situations "That's not the point"

"And what is it?"

"I don't think you're ready to do it, with me"

"Why?"

"Because you're not completely comfortable with me yet"

"Haha I'm never comfortable with anyone, not even with myself, that's how I am, it doesn't mean anything!" I let out a nervous laugh. If he's waiting for me to turn into Miss Self Confident before having sex, I might as well become a nun.

"It means a lot to me though" Eddie's still frowning and I try and be serious.

"I know. What I meant is that I'm always like this... I'm shy... that's the way I am, it doesn't mean I'm not happy with you"

"It's got nothing to do with shyness. Trust me, I know you're good with me, I can sense it. What I do not know is what you feel. For me. I mean, there are times I seem to understand it, but then maybe you do something that tells me the exact opposite and I just don't know what to do"

"What I feel?" like it's easy.

"Yeah"

"That's not easy... talking about feelings. You know I'm not good at talking in general"

"You don't necessarily need to talk, Angie, there are other ways to show you rfeelings"

"I always show you!"

"No, I always show you. You... you don't do anything"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON'T DO ANYTHING?!" I raise my voice, spontaneously this time too.

"Angie, you...you don't even kiss me"

"I what?"

"You dont kiss me. Ever" what the hell is he talking about?

"That's not true!"

"Yes, it is. Since that first time at the bus station in San Diego up until the good night kiss earlier tonight. It's always me kissing you, you just reciprocate"

"I'm sure you're wrong. I must have kissed you... sometimes"

"Sometimes? Sometimes when?"

"I don't know, it's not like I remember every single time"

"Had it really happened, I'd remember, trust me"

"Eddie"

"That'd have been a historical event 'cause you never kiss me first. You never do anything first. You never take a single initiative with me"

"Well, ok... I admit that... maybe... since I'm shy, I often let you come up to me first to-"

"Often? I'd say always"

"I'm sorry" I'm so fucking embarrassed and his look becomes sweeter.

"You don't have to say sorry! I don't want your apologies, I only wanna know what the problem is and what I have to do to reassure you" he strokes my arm delicately and I can see he's trying to make me feel better but I feel worse.

"You don't have to do anything, you're not the problem"

"You don't kiss me, you don't even call me on the phone, unless you ask me on advance exactly when I'll be at home, when you can call me, when you're not bothering me and so on. When you showed up at my door with the cake before the concert, you made me so fucking happy"

"Hehe for so little?"

"Yes, because it's not that little"

"And what about tonight? Don't you think I took the initiative tonight?"

"No, not really"

"No? I had you find me basically half naked, dressed only with a t-shirt of your favorite band... I set up this whole romantic and sexy scenario, I even sabotaged the building's heating system... if that ain't an initiative!"

"You... you did what?"

Oops.

"I couldn't show up naked with zero degrees at home, you'd have thought I was stupid. I just wanted to turn on the temperature a little, 'cause if it's always freezing here it's not because the heating doesn't work, it's cause those asshole owners keep it low to save money! Then it's not my fault if the handle came off in my hands as I was turning it" I reveal my evil plan to Eddie who looks more and more surprised.

"So... making this whole mess is easier for you than simply, I don't know, I'll just say it... than simply tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you want to make love to me"

"Oh, that"

"How can you do it if you can't even say it comfortably?" I can almost hear Meg, who apparently hasn't left my bedroom yet.

"I told you, I'm shy!"

"Anyway, if you want my opinion, I wouldn't call yours an initiative. That's not taking the initiative. That was... trying to tease me so that I would then take the initiative, as always"

"I'm not the femme fatale who jumps on you and eats you alive, Eddie"

"You don't have to be! Well, unless you want to, in that case I wouldn't protest" he adds with a teasing smile.

"That won't happen, not even in my next hundred lives"

"Come on, I was just kidding. What I mean is that I'd settle for something much simpler"

"That is?"

"A kiss, Angie. A fucking kiss, which by the way you haven't given to me yet"

"We're talking"

"So what? Who cares, kiss me and shut me up"

"Like you did to me in San Diego?" I smile thinking about it.

"Yes, I want you to fucking kiss me. I want you to feel as free and comfortable as to kiss me, hug me, call me, slap my face whenever and however you want to, without any prior inquiries, announcement or permits on stamped paper"

"That's not easy for me"

"But why? Why can't you let yourself go with me?"

"Because... because I'm scared" it costs me a lot to answer, especially cause the answer is honest.

"Scared of what? Angie, I know we're just at the start and I know you had bad relationships before. I wanna be honest to you: I'm not a saint, I'm very far from perfection, I'm flawed and you haven't seen my worse flaws yet. But I really care about you and this relationship and I won't fuck up"

"Looks like I am the one fucking up" I sadly reply.

"Shut up! Why do you say so?"

"Well, we're discussing..."

"We're talking, we're not fighting. We're trying to understand why you don't trust me"

"I trust you"

"Not enough"

"Eddie, really, I do trust you. It's myself that I don't trust"

"Yourself?"

"I don't trust myself because Im scared. I'm afraid I'll make a mess and fuck it all up. Something I'm already doing"

"You're not doing anything, I told you we're just talking. That's how people solve their problems: talking. Or kissing. As I've been asking you for a while but you haven't done it yet..." Eddie elbows me trying to make me laugh and it works a little.

"Hehe here we are, I try to be serious and you make fun of me"

"I'm not making fun of you, it's an actual request. And it's still valid"

"Maybe I don't take any initiative because... because I'm afraid they're the wrong ones"

"Wrong?"

"I'm afraid of doing the wrong thing, making mistakes. Being too clingy, or not enough. Being too present or too absent. I... I don't do anything because this way I can observe you... and understand what you want"

"And what about what you want? Doesn't it count?"

"I... I want you, that's what really counts" it's like I hear someone else answering in my place and I could see this someone suddenly blushing profusely in front of Eddie, whose jaw drops as I speak.

"Oh Angie..."he takes my face between his hands, forcing me to look into his eyes"I want you too, I want you as you are and I wouldn't change a single thing. I just wished that you weren't afraid of being yourself when you're with me. And that you kissed me whenever you want to. Or whenever I ask you. Something that, I don't know if I mentioned it already, you haven't done yet"

"If it was up to me, I'd always kiss you, Eddie"

"You say it like it's a bad thing" he stretches his thumbs to stroke my cheeks.

"No, you don't understand. When I say always, I actually mean always. I mean, I guess you looked at yourself in the mirror a thousand times but I don't think you did it with the same eyes I have when I look at you"

"Ok, so I look good and you want to kiss me" he takes his hands off my face and shrugs.

"It's not about beauty, something you're not short of anyway. It's like... I mean, your mouth... ok you use it to do a lot of things... talking, singing so good, drinking and eating... but your lips, it's like they're calling me, repeatedly, and not to have a chit chat"

"No?" he looks at me so smug and pleased with himself.

"No. And it's not like your lips are made for kissing: your lips invented kissing itself. I mean, I haven't studied this aspect of history specifically, but I believe people didn't use to kiss on the lips until somebody appeared on the planet who had lips like yours. And at that point evolution just followed its natural course"

"Is it a contorted way to compliment me?"

"It's a contorted way to tell you that if I really let myself go, as you want, I'd glue myself to those lips like a fucking plunger and I most likely won't let you do anything else and I couldn't do anything else either and we'd end up losing consciousness like Marina and Ulay. Only we're not artists, I mean I'm not, and we couldn't live off this kind of art anyway, we'd only look like a couple of jackasses" and so it happens that I try and let myself go and get anxious, and when I get anxious I start bantering random stuff without even taking a breath. And talking about breath...

"Marina and who?"

"And Ulay. Breathing in/breathing out, never heard about it?" Eddie shakes his head no "It was a performance art piece. Marina and Ulay are two artists and used to be a couple too. One day they decided to stick cigarette filters up into their nostrils to block them and press their lips together in a suffocating kiss, exchanging carbondioxide mixed with that single initial dose of oxygen, which was consumed in a few minutes, that led them to almost faint"

"Hehe you make me lose my senses even without nose plugs, so I say we can do it" he laughs and I can't articulate my thoughts, it takes me so long to reply back.

"And what if I let myself go and you can't stand me? What if I become annoying? What if I kiss you when you don't really want to?"

"Angie, I'll tell you a secret"

"You're always telling me secrets"

"Yes, because I'm older and wiser"

"Hahaha please"

"So, the secret: the secret is, there ain't a moment I don't want to"

"There are appropriate and less appropriate moments"

"That simply don't exist. I can't think of a single moment I could even just think about not wanting to be kissed by you. I mean, they could tie me up and torture me, sticking needles under my fingernails and toenails, and I'd still want you to kiss me if you were there"

"You're so dramatic"

"I could have just been shitting razorblades for an hour or have undergone an appendix surgery without anesthetics. But if you came up to me to kiss me, I surely wouldn't turn the other way"

"Hahahaha"

"It's true, I'm not kidding. But also in a positive situation! They could have-"

"Haha they who??"

"Hey, I'm trying to make a point. What was I saying? Oh right, they could have just announced I won a Grammy, an Oscar or another fucking random award and maybe they're calling me on stage to accept it. But you're there and you're kissing me and I won't move an inch and I won't give a fuck about the rest. I mean, yeah, I'd care only because winning the prize would be another excuse for another kiss, only because of that"

"And what if the Cubs win the World Series?" that's too easy if it's about awards, let's talk about the things that really count for Eddie.

"All the more reasons to want a fucking kiss from you to celebrate the event! But I hope I won't have to wait for that event to actually happen for you to kiss me"

"You won't have to wait that long" I answer, shifting a little on the bed to get close to him.

"No?" he whispers.

"No" I get alittle closer.

"How long then?"he insists looking alternatively at my eyes and at my lips.

"A very short moment"

"Really?"

"Yes"

"Ok"

"I'm waiting"

"Just a minute! You're so impatient"

"Yes, I'm kind of impatient, you know? It's only..." Eddie stops talking and stares at an indefinite point behind my back, as he counts on his fingers at the same time, then looks back up at me "I've been waiting for this moment for three months"

"Three months?"I ask puzzled.

"Well, knowingly three months. A little more unknowingly..."

"What does unknowingly mean?"

"Weren't you just about to kiss me?"

"Eddie, what do you mean unknowingly?" I raise my voice a little, Eddie rolls his eyes and gives up and answers.

"I mean that, you know, it's not like I woke up one morning and decided I had a crush on you, it was something... slow and gradual"

"And it started more than three months ago?"

"It started the first time I saw you, at Roxy's"

"Please, you barely spoke to me! And you still were with your ex by then"

"Not really... anyway I said it started then... and still goes on. The first time we talked I started to get to know you and it's like you slipped inside of me, like a seed, which sprouted and then the bud would grow day by day. And the more I got to know you, the bigger the plant grew and the more I liked you. And when I figured out what was happening, it was too late because I was in too deep and the small plant had become a fucking tree"

"Haha a tree?"so I'm not the only one having non sense monologues when I panic.

"Yes, a fucking baobab, Angie. Now if only you could maybe stop laughing at my metaphors and kiss me, please"

"Ok"

"Ok. Can't you see you just can't do it although I'm literally asking you?"

"I can! Just a second, it's not easy this way... like... cold blooded"

"I think our blood is everything but cold right now, Angie"

"Alright, I'll kiss you now so you'll shut up!" I come up to him and put a kiss onbhis lips, then I look at him triumphantly "See?!"

"What the hell was that?"

"What do you mean? It was a kiss"

"And do you call that a kiss?"

"Sure! Why? What do you call it?"

"I don't call it,I didn't even notice"

"Oh so my kisses leave you cold, I see..." I'm about to back up towards my side of the bed but Eddie holds on my hips.

"They don't leave me cold, I know your kisses, that's why I'd want a real one"

"A real one, huh?"

"Yes, please"

"Something like... this?" I speak against his lips before slowly placing mine over his, delicately at first, then pressing them a little harder.

"Uhm... that's better" I give him a little break to reply, then I kiss him again, until I feel him sneak his hands under my t-shirt.

"No, you can't..." I block his hand and keep on kissing him, pushing him on his side of the bed and pulling and holding his joined hands up over his head, as if he was trapped.

"What did I do?"he asks and looks seriously worried.

"If I understand correctly, I'm supposed to take initiatives now, am I wrong?"

"Oh" his frown turns into a dimpled smile.

"So don't move, ok?"

"You don't have to actually do everything"

"DON'T MOVE, OK?" I repeat louder and his amused smile turns into something else.

"Alright, my princess" he answers and I let go of his hands and bury mine into his lustrous mane of curls, and then I kiss him so passionately that at some point I find myself straddling him without even knowing how I got there.

"So?" I pull away and he breathes hard with his lips still slightly parted. Then I sit up astride him "Was it ok?"

"Very ok..." he finally opens his eyes and uses them to burn me on the spot "You like me then?"

"Hahaha oh really? Brilliant deduction, Watson"

"Don't laugh" he grabs my thighs and shakes me as if he was trying to throw me off.

"Why? Didn't you know it"

"How could I know it?"

"That makes no sense. You obviously knew it"

"Obviously? Obvious for you. Had you been in my shoes, what would you have thought?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you were me, if you were the one who always had to take the first step. And I don't mean just the kissing... If you had to always search for me, call me... And if, at the same time, I'd also asked you to keep it absolutely secret and not to tell anyone we were together. And I had cautiously avoided hanging out and being seen in public with you, avoided showing even little more than friendly behaviour towards you in the places our common friends usually go to... If I hadn't told you a single word about my feelings or about us in general, unless on your specific request and with some pressure... In that case, what would you have thought? How would you have felt?" is like shit accepted as an answer? This reminds me of when I used to date that asshole called Drake. Well date is a big wo-... Wait a minute.

"Unwanted. Oh but you don't feel like that, right?"

Fuck.

"Not anymore. Maybe"

"Eddie, I..." I lean forward and pepper his face with kisses. His smile looks relieved but I feel like shit and I speak between kisses "I...didn't... think... that-"

"That I can be insecure too? Well, I can"

"I'm an asshole" I sigh and rest my head on his chest, stretching my legs until I'm completely lying over him.

"I'm the asshole because I should have told you before" he replies stroking my hair.

"Talking to me isn't easy, I'm always elusive. All slippery. I'm a champ at slipping away from difficult situations and serious talks"

"But you're not getting away from me anymore now" he hooks his legs around mine and blocks me in a trap I don't wanna get out of.

"I'm sorry"

"Stop saying that, ok? I didn't say it to make you feel guilty, I told you to make you understand why I couldn't make love to you"

"And now?"

"Now what?"

"Now... could you?" I pull my head up as much as to look at him in the eyes, which are amazing even in the light of my shitty lamp.

"I don't know, I'm not the one who takes the initiatives anymore"

"I hate you"

"That's not true"

"It is" I layback on my side of the bed and drag him with me, over me, grabbingthe hem of his t-shirt and taking it off in the process.

"Do you know what I found out, Angie?"

"What?"

"That I like it when you take the initiatives"

"Oh really?"

"I like it a lot" he repeats as I get rid of the Who t-shirt too.

"Good" I clasp my hands behind his nape and pull him towards me not so delicately for a long kiss, which turns into a long series.

At some point I find myself with my panties slid down to my knees and I can't give any scientific explanation to this phenomenon, because my arms remained around his neck and his hands stayed on my boobs the whole time. So either the friction and grinding made them roll down or Eddie has some extra hands or everything's just happened by magic. And I don't know what came over me, because while I try to take them off completely with one hand, I reach for the elastic band of his boxers with the other hand trying to pull them down. My gesture doesn't go unnoticed because it's like Eddie suddenly went nuts. He starts licking and biting on my face, lips, tongue, neck, on the left side, getting closer and closer to my weak spot and I can't think anymore and I just keep moaning. I briefly come back to my senses when I feel him humping against me again, this time with no fabric barrier, after pulling my legs apart.

"Eddie?"

"Yes?"

"Second... second drawer" I explain pointing left.

Eddie seems to calm down a little too, he caresses my face with the back of his hand, gives me a gentle peck on the lips than opens the drawer of my nightstand, finding the pack almost immediately. He pulls one out and hands it to me, before throwing the pack on the nightstand and plop down on the other side of the bed.

"Here" he says as I try to cover myself with the sheets as much as I can.

"What does it mean?" I give him a puzzled look.

"That you're the one who takes initiatives now, did you forget?" he retorts with those fucking dimples showing. And not just those.

"Oh that's the way it is now?" I try and look pissed.

"Yep"

"And will it always be like that?"

"Why? Do you mind?"

"Not at all" I can hear myself talking but I don't even know where all this confidence comes from. I stop asking questions and try to keep it and hold it tight as long as it lasts, as I force my lips against his and open the wrapper.

"Stop laughing" I can hear laughter vibrating in the depth of Eddie's chest because my ear is resting against it, I mean, is basically glued to it, since we're also kind of sweaty. I hope to avoid the vacuum effect, I don't really wanna ruin the moment by blowing out my eardrum.

"I'm happy. I laugh" he laconically answers.

"No, you're laughing at me"

"Why should I?"

"You know why" I pull away from me and lift my head up to look at him and I can see all his beautiful teeth showing.

"You're adorable when you cum, you know?"

"Sure, apart from the sounds I make"

"Actually, I was specifically referring to those sounds"

"The adorable strangulated wailing of a piglet butchered at the slaughterhouse?"

"Hahaha shut up!"he laughs squeezing me under the sheets.

"Of a squirrel squished by a car?"

"Or a squirrel on crack?" he quotes the name of my old and only band.

"Hehehe right"

"Wait: that's not the reason you were called like that, right?" he gets all serious all of a sudden and seeing his face I think I liked him better when he was making fun of me.

"Hahahah oh my god! Of course not!"

"Are you sure?After all, your ex was in the same band..." he goes on and kind of sticks his tongue out at me right after.

"That's not the reason at all, it was a random choice"!

"Ok. Anyway, Ilike it, it's sweet. You're sweet" he relaxes and kisses my forehead.

"Sweet? So my attempt at looking hot, confident and sexy failed miserably?"

"Sweet is sexy to me. Sweetness is the thing that turns me on the most, you know?" he kisses me over on my temple and on my hair.

"Really?"

"That and the inclination to vandalism. And after tonight, I'd say you scored great in both"

"If they put cameras in the boiler room, I'm screwed" I hide my face against his chest once again.

"Don't worry ,I'll pay your bail"

"With what money?"

"Well, I guess we'll sell a bunch of copies of Ten, I hope"

"Ten?"

"It's the best candidate among the names for our album"

"Because it's ten songs?"

"Actually they'll be eleven, or twelve"

"So what's with ten?"

"It's Mookie Blaylock's number. We had to change the name but we gotta pay a tribute to him, you know"

"You're fixated" I shake my head before burying my face in the crook of his neck.

"Right now I have a different kind of fixation though"

"Oh really? And what is it?" I ask sincerely curious because I honestly think he's still talking about music. So he definitely catches me off guard when in a split second he grabs me and turns me over and pushes me on the bed, jumping over me.

"What do you think?" he asks with a euphoric expression as he mercilessly grinds against me.

"Again? Already?"maybe I react with too much surprise.

"What? What do you mean already?"

"No, nothing"

"Don't you want to? If you don't feel like, it's ok, really" he stops moving and I'd cut my tongue.

"NO, I WANT TO!"

"So why-" he's about to answer, not withough snickering for the heat of my answer.

"I thought it'd take you longer, I don't know! I've never been with someone... well, your age"

"Angie, ok, I'm older than you, but I'm 26 not 62" Eddie looks at me like I'm stupid and he is not that wrong.

"Details"

"I'll show you the details" he threatens and grabs at the sheets and pulls them upover our heads, covering us both completely.

"Wasn't I supposed to always take the initiative?"

"Your Majesty, unfortunately I have no option but to make an exception and give you a practical demonstration. May I?"

"Sir Vedder, please proceed"

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

"What about Butterfly girl?" Mike comes back to the table with two pints of beer in his hands, while Stone and Grace tag along, each bringing their own glass.

"Nuh, I don't know. It sounds more like the name of a fucking superhero or something" I answer unconvinced.

"Superheroine" Stone points out. Who else?

"Ok, it sounds like a fucking superheroine. Catwoman, Batman, Batgirl, Butterflygirl... you know?"

"Yes, thank you Jeff for your reasoned explanation. Anyway it's a fake demo, the titles of the songs don't have to make sense. Actually I think Cam doesn't even expect you come up with titles" during his observations, in which he doesn't forget to make fun of me, Stone keeps his arm over Grace's shoulders all the time and thank god Laura hasn't come here too. I'd have been sorry for Mike if he had to fifth-wheel, I mean, things haven't been going great for him lately.

"If he asked me to take care of the artwork of the demo, then it means the tape will be important in the movie" I explain what seems obvious to me. If this demo gotta have a certain image, it means it'll appear on screen at some point, so it has to look real.

"Oh sure, it'll surely be the most important part of the movie: the whole plot revolves around your demo, Jeffrey" Stone nods before taking a sip of his bear and I'm tempted to crash the glass on his head.

"Jeff is right! If it wasn't important, Cameron wouldn't have given him this task. He'd just take blank tapes and write the name of the guy on them in the moment... What's the name of the character again? You told me but I forgot" Grace chimes in to defend me and it's too funny watching Stone pretend this doesn't irritate him at all.

"Cliff Poncier"

"He's thrown out of his band and starts selling his five-track demo on the streets" McCready points out.

"And how many tracks do you have by now?" Grace asks again.

"Three, I've still got two" I show her the notepad in which I jotted down the titles and made a sort of sketch of the demotape's cover.

Seasons

Nowhere but you

Spoon man

... girl

???

"The fourth one... does it have to be about a girl?"

"Yes ,cause he's been dumped by his girlfriend too, not just by the band. Like every real loser musician, he vomits his pain in songs" Stone answers for me and I try and concentrate again to come up with a good adjective to add to this girl of the title. I give a distracted look outside the pub's window but what I see makes me give another more attentive one: the unmistakable Angie's car that's being parked on the other side of the road, right outside our condo.

"Angelic girl?" I try but I can see it sucks as soon as I say it.

"Jesus no! Let Mike give you suggestions, it seems to me like he's more expert about being dumped" Gossard jokes and the other guitarist gives him a nasty look.

"I wasn't dumped"

"Sure"

"I chose to be alone"

"Obviously"

I follow Mike and Stone's quarrel and, at the same time, the movements outside the pub. Angie gets out of the car cautiously looking around, whereas there is our singer coming out from the passenger side, calmly walking around the car and hugging her from behind as if it was nothing, kissing her cheek. They're cute! But if they don't want to be caught, they should be a little more discreet. Ok, it's all pointless in the end, 'cause everybody knows they have a thing, but if they want to bring on this ridiculous charade, they should at least be good at doing it. They even got me catching them the other day! I mean, you told your girlfriend to come over to our apartment? Just fuckin' tell me! Or if you don't really wanna tell me, because you have to play secret boyfriend, at least let me understand it, drop hints, tell me to leave and stay out and come back much later, tell me we'll meet directly at the soundcheck! But no, you tell me nothing and I must come back home and find you both entwined on the fuckin' armchair. I don't even know how you didn't hear me, as I rushed to get out of there as fast as I could I think I even slammed the door. And it wouldn't have been so bad if they noticed me but, knowing Angie, she'd have been ashamed and wouldn't have talked to me for ages.

"Fly girl?" Mike suggests and this is not bad.

"Uhm not bad, I'll put it among the maybes, good job Mikey!" as I write it down I see that Angie's putting into practice my advice about being cautious. She basically shakes herself free of Eddie and tells him something he must not like that much, 'cause he stares at her with a disappointed face and folded arms. Angie now points at the pub and I turn back towards the others as I'm afraid she could see me through the window and notice that I saw them.

"Yeah, go Mike! Hey, what did Mike do?" Cornell arrives at our table and sits next to me unceremoniously.

"He suggested a possible title of a song" Grace promptly answers.

"From your album?"

"No, from Cliff Poincier's demo" I answer only seconds before anothe rfriend joins the group.

"Did you finally find all five titles? Hi guys..." Hangdog Eddie sits down next to Stone and I can't help looking outside, where I can see Angie sitting inside her car, focused on letting an appropriate amount of minutes pass before getting in not to arouse suspicion.

"Hey Eddie. No, only three and a half" Stone explains.

"Who the fuck is Cliff Poncier?" Chris asks confused.

At this point I quickly update him, telling him about the demo and the little part of the movie plot Crowe shared with me.

"Cool! Let me see... Seasons, huh?"

"What's that? A song about the only two seasons existing in Seattle?" Angie's voice comes from behind my back and I can't help thinking that the minutes she let pass weren't that many.

"Hi Angie! What are the two seasons?" Mike asks and makes room for her right next to him.

"Wet and wetter" Pacifico shrugs and she can't believe she can sit on the exact opposite side of Eddie not to look suspicious. What a jerk.

"Well,if it's actually written, it could really talk about that" Eddie laughs trying to dissimulate his being upset.

"And why don't we actually write it?" Chris pounds on the table with his fist and stands up.

"What do you mean?" I ask perplexed.

"That we should really write these songs, record them and have Cameron listen to them. That would be a nice surprise, don't you think?"

The table keeps silent for a while. Everybody, like me, is probably trying to figure out if Cornell's just kidding or is being serious. Something that happens like 90% of the times with him by the way.

"Are you saying you'd really write..." Angie stands up too to stretch across the table and read from my notepad "Spoon Man??"

"Why not? Artis would be happy, we'd advertise him" Chris replies and now we realize he's serious. And if that wasn't the case, now I'll make him.

"Ok, I challenge you then: I have to present the artwork of the demo to Cameron by Monday, you've got five days to write the five tracks of the Poncier's tape"

"Five? Hahah you'll have them all tomorrow, man!" he exclaims and shake my hand to seal the deal.

"Actually not to nit-pick, but you still have to come up with two titles, I mean, one and a half" Stone points out.

"What about Flutter girl?" Grace makes her attempt and... fuck, it's the best"

"Wow, I like it! Flutter girl it is, sorry Mike" I nod at the guitarist, who shakes his head.

"Nuh, no problem, her suggestion wins for me too"

"Ok, we only got one left then. Y'all put your thinking caps on" I encourage and the other girl at the table speaks up.

"Well, the fifth title is missing so... so why don't you call it Missing?"

"You're two fuckin' geniuses!" I state and add the last title to my notes, before tearing the page and giving it to Chris "And now you're screwed, man!"

#pearl jam fanfiction #grunge fanfiction #pearl jam #eddie vedder #jeff ament #mike mccready #stone gossard #chris cornell #cliff poncier #chapters

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