#speeding bullet dads for the soul

[eepy-prince-maxxy]

WIP

I'm not sure if I'll be able to finish this any time soon, but it's been stuck in my head, so have at least a wip sketch of speeding bullet dads

(Also to celebrate the 7th comic)

I'm not crying, you are

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 6

summary ;; This is the reality of Jake Sully: the father and Olo'eyktan of the People cannot coexist, Eywa teaches her lessons in the toughest ways. PART 5 | NEXT (wip) pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; well this took a hot minute. am back on my bs WARNING for violence and t0rture, reader discretion is advised. Please excuse my mistakes if you see any!

Jake moved on pure primitive instinct, unbridled arctic rage honing all his senses into one laser point of focus. It wasn’t survival, and it surely wasn’t prey running from predator, there was nothing noble about what he was trying to achieve. 

That avatar was going to die today, and Jake was going to make it hurt. No fair game. No warrior’s death. No respect. 

Devoid of the shape of humanity or the ties that bound him to it, he was the embodiment of a creature’s killer intent, body taking over and consciousness disappearing to the backseat as he catapulted his tomahawk at the avatar, taking advantage of the miniscule opening provided by a magazine change needed after emptying all of his bullets to a Jake luring him into wasting his resources away. 

The dull squelch of the hand-carved ax’s head plunging into flesh couldn’t be dampened by the avatar’s choked and short shout, and Jake was jumping out of cover in no time, a bull to red, advancing towards the man, footsteps not hidden out of having no concern for it at all, let him panic or try to struggle for all Jake cared. 

Opposite of what he expected, the rifle wasn’t picked up or fumbled to aim at him. The avatar, pale in the face and pupils having devoured the yellow, fear trumping the pain of his arm almost sliced off from shoulder, crawled away on his back from Jake in full speed, getting up before Jake could reach him, and started staggering into the forest, dropping the tomahawk in the process. 

Jake stopped in his tracks for a moment and picked his weapon up, the dark liquid glistening purple in the light of the Tree of Souls, droplets of blood making the moss light up as they hit the ground. His chest heaved in controlled, loud breaths, mouth pulled back in a snarl, watching the pathetic son of a bitch trying to get away. 

He was one of the lot who’d shot you, hurt you, tortured you — simply to get a reaction out of Jake. 

He was the one who pulled Jake away before he could fix his mistakes, undo the damage they had done, and get you back. 

Jake was so close. So close. 

You were there. You were right there. He could still feel you in his arms, his shoulder imprinted with your tears, shiest of smiles at a better future he could build with you from the burnt soil of your relationship. 

If it hadn’t been for him… 

That man was your murderer. 

He deserved the hell of a father’s making.

This avatar was a marine — and the fucking idiot was running into the oblivion blind worse than a normal civilian would in this situation, had all those years of training evaporated in one second? Jake’s steps were determined, yet lax following after the guy, nose picking up the trail of blood left behind, eyes watching the red splatters. This was all Hansel and Gretel for him, playing follow the breadcrumbs.

The sound of thumping, frantic running, bumping into obstacles, crashing into flora, all was distinguishable from the natural song of the forest Jake had gotten so familiar with in these fifteen years. No response came from the avatar, but Jake wasn’t hurrying. He would have him. Let the bastard tire himself out first — but he wouldn’t let him die. No. He could smell the fear, the blood, anger at bay, all ice, knowing the trees would carry all the sounds he needed to Jake. He could hear exactly where the avatar was. and If he was hoping he’d bleed himself out faster than Jake could reach him to save himself from what was going to happen, well… 

He’d better start praying for mercy to whatever deity held his worthless faith, because Jake had none of it. They had no mercy for you, his sinless, innocent child, all but wails and yelps and blood, and apologies for it. 

Every time Jake thought of you in that tremendous pain to the brink of delirium, he burned in his heart’s ice until he was black and purple all over. Your smile was so real, your embrace was tiny and warm in his arms and he had a chance, the only chance no parent could ever get in this life. Jake had dissolved together with that mirage.   

The part of him engulfed in flames wanted to end this quickly and painfully—to burn it all, break that man in, scream his lungs out, the other part of him, frozen fury that scalded over in the loss of you, wanted to draw it out, wanted to inflict never-ending pain, to bring the avatar back from the brink of death over and over again just to repeat it in a cycle. 

His child. His baby. 

The ties that held Jake together were getting pulled tight, the pressure building like deep water currents, thinner threads snapping and crackling, body being pulled to all five directions from all five limbs. Awareness went out and barged its way back in hot flashes, he couldn’t comprehend the passing of time and how long he let your murderer catch the delusion of shaking Jake off his tail — but, his instincts knew to reveal himself before the avatar could be claimed by blood loss. 

Dangling hope right in front of his face just to snatch it away wasn’t enough. It could never be enough compared to you who had dragged your own corpse back home, muted to your own pain cocooned between those who should have meant nothing but home and safety to you. Torture. You had lived torture in your last hours with help just one step, one word away. 

Nothing would ever be enough.  

Jake emerged from the thick flora like the grim reaper himself who would always be waiting right at the spot of the reaping wherever the soul ran away to, detached and unimpressed, blank face not reflecting the scorched soul inside. The almost passed out avatar jolted awake when he smelled the smoke from Jake’s shadow falling on him, and could only press his back further to the body of the cluster of big rocks he had taken shelter against as if somehow becoming one with it could shield him away from Jake’s wrath.  

The man’s breathing was getting louder and shakier the more Jake stood there motionless. “C’mon then,” he said between clenched teeth, spasming hand dropping from his mutilated shoulder, squaring up the last drops of his courage. “Get on with it.”

Jake’s whitened fingers were making noise against the handle of his tomahawk, but his voice was hauntingly hollow, unfeeling now that he had the man right in his palm. “Thought I should let you live what you did to my daughter first.”

The avatar began to scream. “Fuck you, man, we didn’t do none of this shit to that kid—”

Jake’s tone didn’t change, but it cut worse than a knife. “You killed my kid.”

His eyes widened, breath hitching, the reality of what was coming to him finally sinking in and Jake witnessed every panicked second of it. “Fuck…” His gaze wildly alternated between Jake and the tomahawk, raising his better, trembling hand up for feeble defense. “Look, look, listen, we didn’t kill her, alright? We patched her up, okay, she was going to be a prisoner, what happened happened because you engaged in battle, we wouldn’t do that to a—AGH!”

He was interrupted by Jake sharply shoving the head of the tomahawk into his injury, just putting it in there, not moving it further down. “Do you have children, marine?”

The man palmed at the weapon, fingernails digging into the wood, but no matter how much he pushed, it didn’t budge one bit. “Stop, stop! Fuck—”

Jake repeated again, firmer. “I asked you a question, do you have children?”

“No!— No, god, argh!” 

He spaced out for a while, watching him squirm and trash to get away with defeated, half-assed attempts, also unable to because of how much of an immovable object Jake was making the weapon buried in the open wound be. It would hit the bone if he used more strength. 

With a fixed, stony stare, Jake removed the tomahawk, waiting for the man’s deplorable whimpers to recede before breaking him the news like reading it off a doctor’s report. “You won’t get to have any.”

He didn’t look like he cared about something like that, but the man knew his fate insinuated by the words. Nevertheless,it didn’t mean he could be free from the survivor’s instinct’s mood swings his body was putting him through. Denial to bargaining within minutes. “Just kill me already, you deserter piece of—”

“Oh, no, no no,” Jake reassured, the only flicker of emotion he had shown since he’d cornered the avatar. “You won’t get to die for a long time, either.” 

The avatar grunted, head falling down before he started to shake it. “Please just let it end—man, just let it end, I’m sorry, okay, please!” A whole body-trembling begging shifted to anger the more Jake remained non-responsive. Watching. Just watching. The hole in his chest getting wider the more he fed this man’s suffering to it — it wasn’t enough. “Just fucking do it! Pussy ass bitch! Come on you blue motherfucker, kill me! Kill m—”

“Are you the one who shot my daughter?” 

“What?”

“Are you. The one. Who shot my daughter?”

The avatar’s face twisted. “It wasn’t me—it wasn’t—asshole, you already killed the guy, I didn’t fucking do anything!—”

“You... didn’t do anything?”

A beat. The forest fell silent in Jake’s ears. Just like how the noises you made had abruptly died down as he was putting pressure on your wound.

And like that, the thick haze that had Jake desensitized blew over, unadulterated anger rushed to his body, acidic and nauseating, soul stitching back to his limbs by a million needles and he began to shake, face contorting, teeth showing itself, the hiss that lacerated his throat was the most terrifying one of his life yet, it didn’t sound like it belonged to a sentient being, twisted by a grieving, demented animalistic horror. The avatar’s breath hitched, whatever protest and voice he had escaping deep inside his body, ears pinned back to his head. 

“Of course,” Jake glowered, swallowing the scorching stones blocking his throat. He closed his burning eyes, and was greeted by the image of you, opening them back again, and shaking the ax as if it was an accusing finger. 

And without a word of warning, his hand shot down and grabbed the avatar from the neck of his tactical vest, hurling him over the chest-level array of big rocks forming a pointy bed above, ignoring the cries of pain as the abused, torn open flesh of the wound dragged through the sharp teeth of the gravel, dousing them in blood. “Please, please, stop!—I’m sorry, I was wrong, that wasn’t right, shit, shit!”

Jake snatched the man’s dominant arm that was coincidentally the same one dangling by fractured bone and tendons from the shoulder. His soul had known what he wanted right from the start before his brain had processed it. “This hand,” he spat, holding it from the wrist, gnashing his teeth. “that pulled the trigger at me…” 

Murdered his daughter for a second time. 

All a soldier’s worth for. One hand to hold the stock tight against the body and one to fire. All that to take a single life.

Leaning the hand down against the rock in a sudden move, Jake slammed on the blunt, pointy end of the tomahawk on it like he was hammering a nail, the sickening crack of the bones breaking got followed by the avatar’s fractured scream. 

Jake saw you hunched, cheekily laughing in the blue and purple of the creek, freckles glowing because of the eclipse, silhouette illuminated by the floating bioluminescent bugs.  

Spinning the tomahawk in his clammy hand in a full 360 turn, he smashed it down once more, stronger. The metal broke skin and sank into spongy muscle. His ears were buzzing, ringing from how the shrill yells. 

Jake was hugging you after what seemed to be years, and your little arms were clinging to him for life — you were sand slipping from his fingers. 

Jake hammered again. 

You were telling him how mean he was to you, your voice suppressing the avatar’s. 

He brought it down one more time and felt the tomahawk recoil from hitting rock. 

You were bashful as you repeated how Jake would always love you. 

Guttural breaths getting louder with effort each hit, he kept slamming it down until everything was his beautiful little sweet girl. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again. 

Again and again and again and again and again until there was no resistance from the limb anymore and the man had gone silent and it was all mashed meat he was pounding— 

And then he almost plunged it to your bleeding, battered corpse, your stomach covered in reddish brown from the dried brown, body ashen blue, and Jake cried out in terror, jumping back and losing strength in his legs as the tomahawk flew from his hand and he fell over. 

His lungs constricted, refusing to take any breaths in and his heart ricocheted around in his ribcage, he was gaping at the wall of rock now washed red as if it was some white rose painted red in Alice in Wonderland. 

Jake sat there for the longest time, dissociated.

In those moments, he wasn’t Toruk Makto, he wasn’t Olo’eyktan, he wasn’t the pillar of a family of seven. He was simply Jake Sully. 

However, he wasn’t allowed to be stripped down to the bone until all that’s left was a mourning father. That was Jake’s reality. 

He had to cast the crippled man aside, the tragedy of his child away, and bring the leader of the People out right as your ghost rippled in his vision, watching spitefully within the forest — because all you wanted was for him to be your father, and he couldn’t even fucking do that after your death. 

This avatar was a valuable asset, a hostage to question. For the sake of his people. 

He wasn’t allowed revenge. 

A single drop of tear rolled down expressionless face. When he looked down, Jake’s hands were still stained with your blood. 

The only instance a child should be covered in blood is when they come out of their mother’s womb, little lungs being burned with existence for the first time, crying from the pain of being separated from Eywa’s arms, birth mother a complete stranger to them. 

The gore of you barely clinging to life, unmoving, drenched in your own blood, wiped and wiped to the point Neytiri had to change buckets of water until it turned light pink was overlapping with the joyful image of your newborn self she had lovingly and gently cleaned of the remains of labor with wetted mothsilk, skin too sensitive for water for the moment, the blue coming alive as the blood and other clotted bodily fluids were cleansed. 

It wasn’t the broken, ice-cold, lithe body of a young girl Neytiri had cleaned in the torment of her excoriated, unraveling mind, it was her baby’s. Her baby, her poor baby with a gaping hole in the middle of your body, memories marauding Neytiri’s lucidity. 

She lived the moment of your first cleansing over and over again. 

You were a particularly indomitable cryer, Neytiri had known you would be infamous for your battle cries right as she was brought back from the blackout of post-birth by your overly-healthy wailing — or perhaps you would best Ninat as a singer when you’d unapologetically blossom, but one thing was ascertained: her first daughter was a fierce, fiery blue ball of ardor compared to Neteyam, who was almost shy and reluctant in disturbing people around him in his weeping that a collective worry for his health had plagued the whole clan. 

As you squirmed, smeared in chunks of her flesh and blood, as if you wanted to jump off from her arms and start walking already, Neytiri had smiled up at her Jake, your father, unable to take his eyes off you, stuck between awe and laughs that came and went. “She has your heart,” she’d told him, spent and hurting, but wonderfully alive. “Strong.”

He’d traced his thumb through her drenched hairline. “Lungs, you mean?” His scent, wind and hearthfire, had enveloped Neytiri when Jake had leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I think they’re yours.” The teasing about how you had made Neytiri scream in labor wouldn’t have gone unpunished if she wasn’t on the edge of sleep held up only by your crying, so, he’d gotten a light hit on the side of his face instead. But Jake knew how to apologize, he’d always been spectacular at it. “I’d say she takes after me in appearance, look at her little ugly face.”

To Neytiri, you were beautiful, face dark purple from how strong you were screaming, and a mini-village elder with the wrinkles, swinging those little fists — things that made you lovely in her eyes. Her first daughter. 

She had learned motherhood from Neteyam, but she would learn to understand her mother and her choices through you, someone she thought couldn’t be more different from her — Neytiri, all Mo’at could have been, and Mo’at, all Neytiri might have become, once. She prayed you would love her as much as she’d begun to love you the second you were in her arms. 

To think the enormity of her love hadn’t reached you — it was one of the greatest failures of Neytiri’s life. If it had, you’d be wounded, but perfectly conscious and well in her mother’s tent. If it had, you would have been beyond comfortable telling those demons had hurt you. 

In that all-consuming devastation, the woven towel she was using to wipe the thin sheet of sweat that formed on your body slipped from her uncoordinated hands and fell on your chest, and Neytiri had to hold back the breath that spiked to become a hiccup by covering her mouth, and immediately, her curled hand was engulfed in a smaller, five-fingered one. She came eye-to-eye with Kiri after raising her head, putting her other hand on hers at the girl’s more disheveled and messy self, heart dropping to her stomach at the fatigue varnishing an extra layer of moisture in her daughter’s drooping eyes. 

“Oh Kiri,” Neytiri mumbled, caressing her cheek and brushing the tangled hair away from her face. 

“Why don’t you go get some rest, mom, hm?” 

“Even if I somehow agreed to that, I could never agree to leaving my daughter alone in this.”

“I’m fine.” Stopping to take a breath, she sighed, collecting the towel and starting to fold it. “Well, not really fine, but don't worry about me. We’re all miserable here. And that’s natural.” Fiddling with the corners of the cloth, she leaned in a bit and lowered her voice, light reflecting from the yellow of her irises making it look like they shone from within. “I… I know she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Eywa has bestowed us a gift she has never given to anyone before and it’s for a reason. I feel that everything will be set right.” She shook her head up and down, determined. “Dad will do it. I know he will.”

Neytiri trusted Kiri with her intuition and understanding when it came to the inscrutable intentions of Eywa, she was closer to the Great Mother than any Tsahik was — so close that she would drift away too much from her family. And deep down, Neytiri was heartsick by this invisible line that separated her from her daughter, any parent in her place would be unsettled like this.

She was also hog-tied to close the distance growing between them because of the human boy Spider and how she would find camaraderie in him in their ‘orphan’ status as she called it. Kiri was already faraway in her obscure existence and unwittingly separated herself as if she didn’t see herself as a real part of the family some days, and Neytiri hated that the ‘kinship’ she’d formed with Spider was planting these ideas into her head when she was her and Jake’s daughter, no more, no less. To overwrite those feelings, she tried so hard to reach Kiri, but was unsettled by the feeling of being hated sometimes, again, more or less for her stance in placing Spider at the outskirts of their family. 

But oftentimes Kiri would express her affection through small, otherwise unnoticeable actions, just like this one, a caring touch and reassurance that could melt an ice cube — and Neytiri basked in the babiest of steps between them. And maybe this was how Jake had it with you, too, she had never thought about it like this before. 

Taking in Neytiri’s solemn silence, Kiri grumbled, suddenly agitated about something. “I just… I just wish I had isirka resin and xhikul seeds for this paste and cover her wound with it. Grandmother’s extract isn’t enough to stimulate the bone marrow and ugh—” The girl groaned with the obvious guilt at groaning in the first place, as well. “I’m sorry, mom, I don’t know what—”

“It’s alright, Kiri,” Neytiri said, weariness blending with tenderness, knowing you’d agree too. You would have probably told her to not waste her energy and wait around when there wasn’t anything left to do anyway. “Maybe it’s you who needs some rest. You’ve worked hard. Harder than any of us. You do need rest, too.”

Kiri was quick to refuse. “I’m trying something new, I can’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sure one of your brothers—”

Her earpiece buzzed alive. “Neytiri, do you read me?”

The unexpected timing of it caught her off guard, her hand flying up to the device, drums of alarm going off in her head by the croaky, despondent note to his voice. The impact of their previous argument evaporated from existence just by hearing his distress. “Jake?” She focused on you, not observing any difference, and frowned in worry, her pulse picking up pace as Kiri also locked her attention to her the moment she heard her father was on the line. “What happened?”

“I have here one of Quaritch’s dreamwalkers—whatever they are.” Neytiri’s mouth opened and closed at the reveal, forehead creasing. “Alive. Somehow survived to get to the Tree of Souls.”

Her hand instinctively descended to touch your cool and clammy arm closest to her. “Tree of Souls…? But you were—”

“Yeah. Yeah, he… I couldn’t. I couldn’t…” 

She stared at your face, all thoughts draining from her mind. “What are you saying, Jake?”

Silence.

“Jake,” Neytiri implored, her voice snuffed out towards the end. She tried again. “Jake, I don’t understand. What does this mean..?”

“Son of a bitch pulled me out before I could… before I could finish talking to her.” Kiri reached for her when she let out an incoherent, disbelieving voice, getting more panicked as Neytiri clawed at her tightening chest with his next words. “I failed, Neytiri. I couldn’t… She…” 

Neytiri was physically helpless to respond, and Kiri couldn’t hold back from inquiring seeing the state she was in. “Mom? Mom! What’s wrong?”

“This man, if it wasn’t for this man, I had it.” Jake kept talking at an increasing speed the longer Neytiri didn’t say anything. “I had her right in my arms, making future plans, smiling, everything was perfect, and then he—” His breath quivered. “He fucking—” And he stopped the sentence abruptly to get some semblance of control back because Eywa knew Neytiri was losing it ever so slowly. “I need you here with me right now, please. Please, I…” 

Neytiri refused to acknowledge what Jake couldn’t say out loud. You were still breathing, she felt your chest rise and fall even if the pattern was weak. You had life left in you. Jake saying he failed made no sense to her, she didn’t believe it. 

“Neytiri, I need to question this… this filth, need to learn all I can about what’s going on, but I can’t do it on my own. I’ll kill him. In a heartbeat. I want to squeeze the life out of him with my hands right this moment and I— I can’t… We have to know how they could have gotten this far, what they’re planning—and now right to the Tree of Souls too, and…” The rambling that got chaotic and disconnected faded off eventually, as if he’d lost his voice. “Shit.”

And throughout all that, Neytiri had gone from confused, in denial, at the threshold of grief but not nearly in there anchored by your pulse, and lusting for blood within minutes. Kiri was taken aback by the anger radiating from her. “Bring him here!”

“I can’t. He could have a tracker on him—they could have put it in his body. I can’t risk that.”

Neytiri stood up with only one thing in her mind, and it didn’t match Jake’s. “Where are you?”

“You gotta let me pass, buddy, come on! You wanna take my head off or something? Why are you being like this!” 

Hands up and quick on his feet, Lo’ak was trying to negotiate. 

With an ikran of all things. Not even his.

Yours. 

Mom storming out like a wronged, vengeful spirit had been the perfect chance for him to do a quick supply run sneak off, but your overgrown big bird with the exact same attitude as you was getting in his way and blocking Lo’ak off by snapping its jaw at his head and opening its sunset fire tinged wings every time he attempted to cross over to his own ikran. They were basically at a standstill and he had no idea why. 

Lo’ak just wanted to help. Help you. 

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Shit. 

Neteyam. Making his way to him with such speed that got his braids swinging and of course he’d sniffed Lo’ak out like a nantang. Followed the odd silence, probably. Eywa, he should have thought this out better. 

“Skxawng, do you not remember what dad said?”

“I do,” Lo’ak hummed and hawed, and that was the problem. He’d never felt this guilty about disobeying dad’s orders before, it was making him squirm. “But look, Kiri said she needed isirka resin and xhikul seeds or whatever to treat her, I’m going—”

Neteyam’s jaw had flexed when he said whatever, but there was no visible agitation after he gave a sharp breath through his nose.  “So let’s call mother or—”

“They’re busy with some sky person dad caught—”

“I know. The same ones who did this to our sister. I know, Lo’ak.” Neteyam aggressively gestured to the exit of the cave system, shaking his arm while speaking. “What do you think will happen if you go off on your own and land yourself in bigger trouble than she did? Huh?”

Lo’ak threw resentful looks at your ikran. “I can’t stay put like this. I have to do something.”

“This again? There is nothing we can do.” He hadn’t said that in his normal drilling of dad’s orders — Neteyam had the same pain of acceptance that were Lo’ak’s bruises etched onto his face.

And that made Lo’ak want to throw up all over the place. He’d experienced countless sicknesses his siblings had fallen to over the years, none of those were as fatal as this and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. What was he supposed to do when his sister was dying? What did one do when a family member was in this situation anyway? Nothing seemed right to him. 

And something was finally, finally within his power — and Lo’ak would of course rise up to the challenge without hesitation. He wasn’t just going to sit down and let that possibility of your salvation slip by. “But there is. Kiri said—”

“Lo’ak if you leave right now and somehow get caught dad will never trust you again. He was the most open he’s ever been, don’t betray him like that.” 

He was getting annoyed that Neteyam was ignoring the whole point, though it wasn’t as if Lo’ak didn’t know. He was fully aware, and that’s why this was supposed to be a secret. Dad couldn’t be hurt by what he didn’t know now, could he? Not only were you getting Kiri’s remedy, which he was sure as his name was Lo’ak that would end up most effective, but he also wasn’t breaking his promise to dad when the tiniest thread of trust in his son was knotted by the man just recently.  

Neteyam grabbed him by the top of his head in a brotherly manner but his hold was of steel, the boy tried to grumpily push him off but he didn’t budge, staring right into his soul. “Use what’s in this for once and just tell dad or mother, they’re down in the forest already anyway.” When he let go, Lo’ak stumbled back, rubbing the sting off, and the semi-playful older brother was back. “And one of them will actually know what to look for.”

His immediate response was refusal. “I know what I’m looking for—”

“What does isirka look like?”

The sounds your ikran was making was eerily close to laughter and Lo’ak felt heat rush up to the tips of his ears. “It’s a tree.”

Neteyam didn’t have brow hair like Lo’ak did, but the way he raised the lines was always more expressive than how he did it. “Xhikul, then?”

“Flower, skxawng.”

“Wrong.” Lo’ak’s tail started beating the air at the condescending tone. “Kiri is talking about the fruit. Xhika is its flower.”

He rolled his eyes, turning away. “Whatever—”

“Is it whatever?” Neteyam grabbed Lo’ak by the shoulder and spun him around so rough that he got dizzy. “Are you calling my sister’s life whatever?”

Lo’ak was going to explode from how wrong this was going and how insistent Neteyam was to twist his words. “That’s not what I meant bro!” 

“You are so careless.” Neteyam’s tail had shot up ramrod straight, the little bush of hair at the end of it all puffed up, ears perking in all directions. He wasn’t necessarily yelling but was tense all over, something he did whenever they were playing back in the day and he was about to pounce after staying still enough to implant a false seed of safety. “You don’t even think about what can happen if you were to bring a completely different ingredient! You don’t think!”

“Sorry that I’m trying to help! What are you doing?”

“Keeping us safe. Keeping you safe.” He pressed his lips together on a thin line, but couldn’t hold back whatever was bubbling inside. “I’m not losing another sibling, Lo’ak!”

Only a small gasp escaped Lo’ak when he opened his mouth in retaliation. He couldn’t have found his voice even if he found something to say to that rawness in return, anyway. 

The gut-churning guilt doubled. 

“Hey… I—”

“Go,” Neteyam whispered, tilting his head together with the lone word. “Since you’re dying to help, help Kiri. She’s exhausted. I don’t think grandmother will refuse.”

“What about you?” And there he goes again. Wrong words. Neteyam was looking more closed-off than before. “I’m not accusing or anything—”

“I can’t go in there.”

“What?”

“I can’t,” Neteyam took a deep breath and loudly let it go, tail deflating, the arch of it depressing as hell for some reason. “I can’t look at her.”

Neteyam just gave a forlorn smile in return to Lo’ak’s heavily concerned looks demanding he continue but not knowing how to word it, his back looked weirdly lonely as he was tending to your significantly calmer ikran to join back the horde. 

Buried in negative thoughts all the way back and ignoring the pitiful looks from the rest of the clan, he met Kiri outside of the healing tent talking to Spider, and he could see Tuk’s back covering the view to you in his peripheral.

They were whispering about something and it was obvious even from a distance where they were nothing but stick figures. At least try to look less suspicious, Lo’ak thought. 

The only part he caught from the conversation was Spider saying, “Just describe them to me,” — Kiri was really leaning in towards him. 

“What’s going on?” 

The two looked like they were caught in the middle of scheming, and it clicked almost immediately. 

If Lo’ak had thought of going off on his own, so had they. 

“You aren’t going anywhere, bro,” he said, draping his arm across the human boy’s shoulders. “Neteyam’s literally patrolling.”

“You have to be kidding me,” Spider groaned, visibly disappointed. It warmed Lo’ak’s heart to see he was totally down for sneaking off the camp for you. “You said your dad told him to rest.”

“Yeah, he did. Except Neteyam never rests. He has a dancing glow worm up his ass.”

The conversation couldn’t continue because Kiri did a double take at something. 

“Tuk!” Kiri took a few steps aside, squinting as if she didn’t think she was seeing it right. Then her expression burst into panic, her hands flying forward as she ran to the tent, Spider and Lo’ak could only stare, baffled. “Tuk, oh Eywa, what are you doing!—” 

“I’m giving her water, she’s thirsty.”

“What?”

He actually rushed to the entrance of the tent, nearly falling headfirst in, having stumbled on some rock. Your mouth was actually open. And Tuk was really trying to get you to drink from the bowl she was holding against your mouth.

You choked at one point, still unconscious, but it was a sign of life. Lo’ak didn’t know if the shocked screech came from him or Kiri.  

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul

@eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

@thotd-f1 @httpjiikook @nipoxe @fussel9913 @gloryekaterina @nxptury @thesheelfsworld @heyyitsmaiaa @anyasullyyy @rey26 @in-luvais @em-100 @n7cje @kpopslur @holysaladapricothero @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @maviee @grxcisxhy-wp @me-marilm @n39ro-chann

[mysticstarlightduck]

OC in 15 or less Tag

Thank you for the Tag, @cowboybrunch (here)! <3

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

I'm doing half of this for my OC Cory Blythe, from Mutant Inquiries, and the other half for Augustus Grimmure, from Enchanted Illusions for this tag!

Cory Blythe

"Listen, douchebag, I'm far too sober to deal with whatever this bullshit is right now and I'm already running late for my fucking job - by the way, I'm far more scared of my boss than I am of you. So how about you go mug someone else and I don't stab you with these heels?"

"And you seriously thought involving 'Miss Trust Fund' over here in our mess was a good idea? No! You just signed our early death certificate." [...] "Why? Oh my god, I don't know, Becky... maybe because her infamously overprotective dad is the CEO of a fucking multimillionaire enterprise and you just dragged his only daughter to the middle of a conspiracy?! I don't care if she wants to help! That's Violet Villarosa, for fuck's sake. We're dead now, we're so dead - I'll have a closed casket for sure."

"The more I live, the more I realize I might be the sanest person in this group of idiots. And that scares me."

"Are any of you going to explain why there's a random dude bleeding out in my brand-new car? No? Okay then."

"Becky," [they take a deep breath] "My best friend, my surrogate sister, the caffeinated cutie-pie of my life, I say this in the most polite way possible - I'd rather be waterboarded with lava than hear that plan ever again."

"Teague, let's make one thing very fucking clear - I'm following my side of the contract, so you can do whatever you want to me in the meantime. But my friends - my family - they're off limits, and if I ever find out you sent any one of your thugs after Rebecca or any of them again, it'll be the last goddamn thing you do. I don't care if you're the head of the mob, or if I'll be food for the fishes afterward - you're not the only one here with a pocketknife, fucker."

"I call dibs on the fluffy socks and the cereal!"

"Look, just because I'm not a mutant like you guys doesn't mean I can't seriously fuck somebody up with a shotgun. Now, one of you might want to take the wheel of this car 'cause I'm about to do just that."

Augustus Grimmure

Augustus felt rejuvenated - like he’d just woken up from a nice nap, adjusting his bloodstained dapper suit and glaring at the now soulless corpse. “Oh -" He looked down, noticing the crimson splatters on his coat "That’s just nonsense! Look at this, it's all ruined and covered in blood! It was my new suit! How dare he stab me.”

"My, my, it's a great deal of a fall from up here. I'm not so sure about this anymore, Hattie-" He looked over the speeding train's railing, turning to Harriet with a shaky, nervous chuckle. As he did, he noticed the outline of the two goons clambering into the wagon behind them, guns ready. "Oh, well, as some say - ladies first!" Before she could say anything, Augustus pushed her over the railing - summoning a portal beneath her. Two bullets flew past the spot where she'd just been standing, instead lodging themselves in the young necromancer, who jumped into the portal just before it closed.

"Well, you could attack us, boys, and I'll merely consume all your souls - string by string, painstakingly severing the cord between your life and afterlife until you're all empty husks. You know who I am, and what I can do to mercenaries who threaten people I hold dear." His eyes glowed in the dark, the mark on his wrist causing the mercenaries to stumble back in shock, as shadows swirled around him. "Now, are you sure this is a wise decision to make in the name of your boss, a man who was too lazy to even come get his own hands dirty?"

"I can't tell you more about it, love." He shook his head with a dejected smile, clutching his own arms in a vice grip. "About my deal, about the Deathbringer and what I did. I can't. It's, no - they're just too dangerous, and I made a mistake. I fear it... it won't end well."

"For some reason, I don't think your cousin likes me very much, Harriet." Augustus spoke under his breath after Vincent stormed out, a playful but somewhat serious lilt to his words, concerned. [She replies "It's not about you, per se. Vincent doesn't really like anyone"] The necromancer chuckled. "No, this seems so very personal."

"My grandma used to bring me to this place, when I was a kid." He mused, fiddling with the blue flower between his fingers, before placing it inside the book. "For a lonely commoner kid with a strange magic that everyone was afraid of, these dusty books were paradise. A world where maybe I really could be anyone."

"May I have this dance, darling? We may as well enjoy this uppity evening on our own terms, before anyone makes it otherwise."

Tagging - @oh-no-another-idea, @dreaminggoblin, @mitchell-nihil, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams,@yet-another-heathen @talesofsorrowandofruin, @thetruearchmagos, @writernopal, @i-can-even-burn-salad, @clairelsonao3, @little-peril-stories, @memento-morri-writes and @saltysupercomputer

[bastionbibi]

Hi, Drabble Anon here and I’ve taken your suggestion into consideration and have decided to put ghost au and swapover au to ao3 once I get my computer fixed! Thank you so much for answering to these little drabbles, I’m really glad you’ve enjoyed them. As thanks, here are a few things for you in regards to the aus, I hope you have a good day/night:

Ghost au:

- It’s very common for ghosts to attach to people they know, whether it be family, friends, loved ones or even animals and people they hate. If they don’t have anyone to attach to, they linger on in familiar places until their soul eases enough to move on.

- When it comes to interacting with the living and corporeal, at a baseline they can make their presence be sensed via warm feelings like the ones Taka’aki feels whenever his family hugs him. Each ‘warmth’ is distinct but if it’s someone they hate then it’s either cold or really hot. However, as Hiromitsu said, it requires concentration, determination and pinpointing what you want to do, hence why Date phased through Takagi. This also applies to manipulating objects but sometimes when a soul wants to protect something or someone, they can instantly pinpoint and interact with things around them like when Date was holding back the rubble.

- When a ghost dies, to others they look about the age when they died but to the living, there’s ‘markings’ so to say that shows how a ghost died. Taka’aki nearly had a panic attack when he tried to capture his parents in a picture and saw the stab wounds he found on their corpses on them in bloody red. Taka’aki also withheld the urge to hold back tears when he saw a crossed out heart over Aoi’s chest and a bullet hole in Hiromitsu’s.

- Depending on how angered/determined a ghost is, they can briefly appear to the living and manipulate things heavily correlated to their deaths. For a ghost who was stabbed to death, they could either make someone feel a horrible stabbing pain without killing them or ease the pain of someone being stabbed. You can imagine how Jodie’s dad looked to Vermouth when a body of fire with gunshot holes in his chest suddenly appeared.

- The Kudos have a very strange connection to the dead, something Yusaku is strangely oblivious to, citing it as normal. Yukiko mostly shrugged and adapted to the strange stuff.

- Bad Omen is not the only non-ghost entity.

Swapover au:

- Melkior doesn’t have family, at least not anymore. No one knows why he’s hunting down the Black Organisation of his world but he does care for those he trust in his own way.

- Rachel often spars with her Sonoko whose also known as the boxing queen/the princess of kicks. Phantom Magician is both impressed and terrified of her.

- Some swapped characters haven’t had their roles fleshed out yet since swapover is a newer au but I do have some plans.

- Taka’aki haven’t heard from his brother in a while but Scotch still checks up on him to ensure that he remains safe and out of the black organisation’s sight.

- The swapped Akai family is a bit more… complicated so to say.

And now, a teaser for something that’s still in the works:

*Brring!* *Riiing!*

“Hello?”

“Finally, you’ve picked up! I’ve been trying to call you for ages!”

“Well I’m sorry that my life’s constantly busy with murder cases every damn week!”

“And? That’s no reason not to miss movie night!”

“Again?”

“Hey, wasn’t my idea and we all need the breathers after what we went through. We’ll be meeting tomorrow, same spot.”

“Ugh.. fine, I’ll come. But I’m bringing the alcohol. Last loop was hell…”

“Yeah, that’s understandable… I’m still not over it honestly, all the more reason to have this movie night.”

“Do I at least get to pick a movie?”

“We all do, so no worries, you get your chance!”

“So long as we’re not watching another Speed Racer.”

“Oh come on, that’s a classic!”

“For you it is.”

I have had this in my inbox for close to a month now and I'm so sorry for not publishing it till now... I forgot about it, only when I got a notification for a new message did I open my inbox again.

I'm glad that you're thinking of posting it, maybe you can send me a link for it when you do?

I know that you answered a lot already and you don't have to elaborate on this ofc! But I keep wondering what happens if they're haunted by a malevolent spirit, like the spirit of someone you killed or someone who actively wants revenge since the only spirits we see for now are those who wants to protect the living.

Wouldn't it be interesting if Conan is haunted by one of those too??

Also, I don't wanna pressure you ofc but I LOVE the swapover AU so much, because while I do like detco characters, their author rarely ever delve deep into their characterization, I mean, Sonoko is the best friend of the protag but we rarely ever see her outside of her days as being rich, having crushes, and while she has her moments, for someone who's been in the series for so long, I think she deserve more development. We got a few episodes with her being a detective lately which is good! But I can't help but wishing her and other characters gets more episode that doesn't just involve some recycled murder plot ya know.

And swapping their personality and using them as comparison to their original ones can give a new POV of that, if you ever publish it, please send them here aha

ALSO WHAT DO YOU MEAN "last loop"?? Are some of them trapped in this? I need to know AAAAAA. Again, thank you for sending me these.

[neptuniadoesstuff]

ASGD Cast Facts #01

Subject Name: Christian Locke aka the Stargazer guy with the strange diary.

While yes, Chris' body is fragile due his issues (mental & physical), but due to his fast speeds, his albiet very concerning anger problems (bcs he literally stabbed someone with a sleeper agent out of nowhere but again they were speaking racist things-), & the fact he armor created SPECIFICALLY FOR HIM makes him a prompted killing machine (if he chooses to, he doesn't really like killing though unless it's nessary)

While the Diary he has is called "A Stargazer's Diary" he doesn't only use it to talk about the stars she seen in the night (he's a bit nocturnal bcs horrible sleep schedule from the past which stayed with her), He also talks about their life in it & some research things. Luckily, she does have bookmarks for each item in his diary. It's unknown how may pages are in the diary, but it's a pretty long one, so there must be a lot of pages. (Now, before you ask, no, Chris does not show his diary to ANYONE! It's meant to be a diary for a REASON!)

Chris has a set of water-repellent boots that are a part of his work suit. This is bcs in a certain test these boots actually seem to only work with him & not anyone else, so yeh they were upgraded to be for her only & anyone who does wear his suit won't have the water-repellent effects of the boots. (Chris can swim, but since he is weak, physically dood can't really swim for that long).

Chris actually has their own little weapons given to them by the company (Stellowbark Corp). One of these known weapons is the Soulwiper, a one time use gun which can be only used under certain circumstances (primarily in a fight with a very powerful figure). It's often used by Chris as a finisher. How it's used is it uses Primal energy (a rare material which is only common in GodHome) as its main bullet & when it's facing the person it's gonna target (Although weakened bcs that's how it works... at least according to the rules), it turns the target into a pile of dust while a strange colored spark which is actually their soul fly up into the aether. Chris never actually owned this gun first bcs it was highly regarded as a "tool no one should ever use" due to how dangerous it is, but now Chris owns it. (But since he is a good boi, she only uses it when finishing a powerful threat off bcs that's how it was intended to be use) (Spoiler: Yeh he used this to finish the Serpent King off in the royal arena but with the help of SK's eldest son, Tenmore)

Chris never really was able to indulge with his culture at a young age. Yes, he did live with his gramma (who was also Filipino), but she was more westernized (bcs this gramma of his was his dad's mother who was actually born in America). Now he did eat a few foods from his culture, but some tweaks & in some much, much smaller portions bcs clearly due to his pretty thin body at the time.... he couldn't eat much even if he wanted to (trust me, his gramma wanted to feed him alot like a lot of gramma Stereotypically do, but DOOD WAS SO THIN, WHICH ISNT NORMAL FOR A YOUNG KID!) But slowly & steadily he's kinda getting into the spirit of his culture bcs of Stellowbark. (Bcs I don't how to say this, but Stellowbark's food court (which is huge btw) has a lot of ethic foods from different cultures from earth & other planets. He'll they even have often for ppl who have allergies & even have lactose/gluten intolerance.)

He & Konn'a might share the same braincell- no I'm not kidding these 2 will often share a braincell for no reason bcs idk while they are smart they can also be idiots. (& both of them do have problems but if you KNOW Chris... he has more of them-)

Chris's fave food is... Cheesy hot dogs & rice. All bcs he got it hot at a vending machine in the food court which he weirdly enjoyed bcs it was truly the first time he had good good food. (Minus what his gramma & his adopted family made, those were good too but most of his life after his parents divorce yeh he.... he didn't do so well) (Now you gotta add some veggies & a egg & boom, you have longsilog but with cheesy hot dogs instead of the normally small soosages. Not traditional but eh Chris doesn't care about traditional HE ONLY WANTS TO EAT!)

When Chris isn't working (bcs she works part time due to his... pretty serious issues..) he is often cooking, going to the store/going on a slight walk. But for the most part it's either his caretaker doing the going to the store/cooking part bcs Chris can't be up for a few hours or so. (Idk bro might have low iron in her system as well) Also bcs oil scares the ever living frik out Chris (like me-) DO yeh... the only things Chris really does is either stay in his room & write in his diary, hang out in the food court (bcs she likes the vibes there + since it's so huge she can just be whatever she wants by himself) or just being near the only ppl they can literally trust. (Chris also enjoys drawing but is pretty self conscious about it)

Chris can play a kazoo, that's it. No other instruments just K A Z O O ! (Bcs no actual effort is truly needed if yur playing a K A Z O O )

Chris sleeps like if he was a wood plank on the ground. No one knows why she does this, he just do. Like he literally lays ON HIS FACE WITHOUT MOVING A INCH OF HER BODY WITH NO NOISES AT ALL! (This is not how a human should sleep but Chris is obviously unhinged & no, this is not trauma based, this is just one of Chris's extremely weird quirks that no one understands)

So yeh that's all of the facts I have for Chris. (Who's also the protag of ASGD)

[depressopax]

From ABQ with love, Nacho

This is the first chapter/prologue of my LCDP x BCS AU/Nacho spin-off. More info can be found here! || AO3 link TW: Spoiler for Better call Saul, violence, cuss words and mentions of death. Words: 0.6K [Might be a bit OOC, bare with me] English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

Chapter 0

I was walking towards my own death when I met him. 

Life wasn’t easy. Never been, and I’ve given up the hopes of a calm, easy life. 

I’m already a dead man. A walking dead man. Dressed in black, as for my own funeral. There’s a gun in my back pocket. A loaded gun. 

Bullets are ready to fly. But I’m not ready to die.

The Salamancas. Gustavo Fring. I make a list in my head, reminding myself of my enemies.

I also make a list of people I want to avenge, Arturo being one of them.

But the list that makes me keep on walking, that makes me determined to actually allow myself to die, is the list of people to protect. Dad. 

I’ve taken farewell to my dad. I’ve somehow accepted the sorrow that I’ll never see him again. 

Ever. 

Still, every step through the desert feels like hell. My body feels too heavy to carry. My mind is a mess. 

But if I feel, I’ll live. And if I live, I’ll be scared of death. 

So I shut it all off and continue walking. Walking, towards death. 

A black car pulls up. 

“Ignacio Varga?” Although I’ve promised myself to not show fright, I reach for my gun. I stare at the man with big eyes. It feels like they’ll fall out of the sockets. 

But it’s not Gus. Nor his men. It’s not a Salamanca either. 

No… This is..?

The man staring back at me looks smug. Entertained. 

As if my situation -  my beat up face and body, my pain and rage - is funny to him. 

Maybe it is. 

The man has brown hair which is turning gray. His brown eyes stare into my soul. I don’t need to tell him that; Yes. Indeed I am Ignacio Varga. 

He knows. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

“Who sent you?” I hiss and before the man in the fancy suit can react, I grab onto his black tie and put the gun against his temple. 

Silence. 

Then he laughs. 

I feel confused, disgusted, even. I let him go and step back. He looks at my dirty hands with disgust and fixes his tie whilst chuckling.

What a psycho sack of shit. 

“Ignacio… Por favor. We’re friends!” 

“I’m not your anything.” 

“We’re allies, Ignacio.” Another car drives up to us. “Get in the car.” 

He stops laughing and his face turns cold. 

“What?”

“I said, get in the damn car.”

The car that approaches… It’s them. Fuck. It’s them. The people that want me dead.

Before I can react, the man grabs my button-up shirt and drags me into the car. 

The fancy son of a bitch drives away, whilst I protest.

“Shut the fuck up!” he hisses. He drives beyond speed limits and roars in delight. 

He seriously finds this… Funny? Before I can ask him and draw my gun, I realize it’s missing.

Fuck!

Then, something is held against my face and I fall into a deep, worried sleep. 

One story ends - And another one begins. 

Like I said - this was the end of me. The end of the man who I once was. 

That day I killed Ignacio “Nacho” Varga. He died, the second I left Albuquerque. 

I escaped the rage of the Cartel. I escaped the twisted game that The chicken man forced me to participate in. 

I died, but somehow kept on breathing. 

My story was over, but he had other plans for me.

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

𝗘𝗫𝗖𝗘𝗥𝗣𝗧 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧 ☞ 𝗙𝗿𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 (𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗦𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀) 𝗯𝘆 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗹𝗲 𝗔𝗹𝗲𝘅𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 is releasing 9.17!

#PreOrder today and check out the excerpt below!

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐎𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ☞ https://mybook.to/Friction_KA

(The Gravity Series is an unforgettable whirlwind romance chronicling the love of two men over three decades. Friction heats up the scene with passionate alpha males who navigate the often-rocky road to love. Love’s rarely easy, but when it’s true, it’s a battle worth fighting for.)

“What’s your deal, Dasham?” Chae asked. Her tone gave away her dawning speculation. Of course, I knew what Chae implied, but I had a lot to consider before I spoke my truth. “My name means the number ten. I’m my parents’ tenth child. I’m also smart,” I answered absently and grinned down at my Sperry shoes. “I skipped a grade in elementary school and I’m on track to graduate high school a semester early with my associate degree.” I lifted my head enough to wink at Chae, trying to hide my smile. “I’m also sporty. I played Lacrosse for my school’s team but stopped because I’m graduating a semester early.” I shifted my gaze to stare at the silhouette of Beau. My breath shuttered again at the nice-looking view. “You know I work for his grandmother?” Chae asked, garnering all my attention. My head whipped her direction. Screw hiding because my dad’s resort rested on my shoulders. Chae had the answers I needed. “Tell me?” I whispered. “His name is Beau Brooks. He’s hot, obviously. Maybe he’d be interested in you because he’s not interested in any of us,” Chae teased, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder and glancing back to the small circle I’d been sitting with. “Not for a lack of tryin’,” Jessica added. Hope built fast. “His grandparents live here. He comes here every June and July but had to go back home in August for football practice. His dad’s a football coach and a massive jerk. He’s really mean. Nobody likes him.” “Yeah, but he and his mom moved here permanently about a week ago,” Jessica said. “You know exactly how long ago they moved here,” Ginny teased, calling Jessica out. “I bet you’re hidin’ in his bushes at night.” “He quit football. Somethin’ happened. I don’t know what,” Chae explained. “Everybody here hopes Josh can talk him into playin’ again. He’s supposed to be really, really good. I believe he’s a tight end or maybe a receiver. He makes lots of touchdowns but also blocks, so whatever position that is,” Ginny said, and glanced over at me for verification. I only shrugged. How did I know? “Josh is my brother. I overheard him and my dad talking about it. They live for football. I don’t,” Ginny said. My gaze turned laser beam focused, willing Beau to look at me. I understood my overwhelming attraction was my limbic system bolting like a speeding bullet causing my body’s extreme physical response. But when he did finally look my way, breath slowly left my lungs. After a moment’s stare, I decided there was no question that he was looking at me. Words like fate and destiny shouted from every fiber of my being. This was the most significant moment of my life. If souls were real, mine did loops around Beau’s, trying to rope us together.

Read more about Dash in Friction, available 9/17/24. Amazon & Kindle Unlimited for a limited time!

[skygent]

Introducing…

Sylvie Morin

Sylvie Morin was supposed to be impossible.

Automatons were never supposed to develop a consciousness.

They weren't supposed to wonder what it was like to feel the wind in their hair as they ran, or what it would be like to dream.

They were never expected to have an innate connection to what some called The Shimmer.

The second layer of the perceivable universe that could be manipulated by certain individuals to do extraordinary things. From shooting lighting from their hands to moving faster than a speeding bullet. Yet Sylvie had both of these things, and as her sense of self solidified, her adventures in New Cassini led to her being taken in by a recovering alcoholic who was trying to start over. A man who would become the closest thing she had to a father.

The pair bonded quickly, and even started going to church together. While some welcomed Sylvie others shunned her, pointing out that Automatons cannot have souls because they weren’t born. While others were all to quick remind her that she would never be a real girl.

Despite this, Sylvie never stopped going to church. Even as other automatons chastised her for being involved with an organization that says she shouldn’t exist. On the other side of the spectrum, there were those in her congregation who were trying to drive her away for pretending to be something she was not.

The only places she didn’t find herself judged was at home with her dad and alongside her friends and teammates in the Aeronauts. 

Sylvie jumped at the chance to be a hero and took on the name Luna Lazura after her favorite pulp comic heroine. Which was later shortened to Luna by her teammates.

Her earnest desire to help people paired with her laid-back attitude made it easy for her to integrate with the team. She helps Kara with peacekeeping duties and thanks to her super speed, she is often the first one into battle.

Whether zipping around beating up bad guys or dragging her friend and crush Elliot onto the dance floor, Sylvie is learning to be unapologetically herself and wear her labels, however contradictory, with pride.

Species: Automaton Age: 20 Birthplace: New Cassini, The Republic of Columbia  Weapon of Choice: Arm Mounted Retractable Razor Lance Powers: Super Speed Likes: Mag Ball games, windsurfing, card games, The Raven Shack comic book series. Dislikes: Crash’s pessimism, rainy days, and people who don't wear the Fahrenheit's team colors on game day (its bad luck!) Occupation: N/A Favorite song: Now You Know My Name by The Derevolutions Art by incroyabledraws!

[boldlyvoid]

10 Days

this is for @imagining-in-the-margins father's day fic challenge <3

summary: it's spencer's first father's day and he's extremely emotional about the little love of his life that he's only just met. he spends the day with his baby, Edwin, and his wife, crying and happy about how wonderful new little lives are.

a/n: just a lot of new dad spencer fluff ♥︎ happy father's day everyone

word count: 1.4K

Read on Ao3

10 days.

That’s how long it has been since he became a father. Holding the small gift the love of his life brought into the world, Edwin was so tiny. He slept, swaddled up, resting against Spencer’s knees as he sat up in bed. Y/N asleep on the pillow beside them.

Spencer couldn’t believe how perfect his life had become. Edwin’s small coo’s and grunts as he slept making him smile at the perfect little being they created. All 6lbs, 10oz and 21 inches of pure perfection, joy and love.

He was peaceful, his cute little button nose twitched as he pouted. About to wake up, hungry as the sun rose, like clockwork. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, looking around with his deep brown eyes before he started to wail.

“Shhh,” Spencer soothed him as he brought him to his chest, bouncing him softly as Y/N started to wake up.

She yawned beside him, stretching into a banana shape as she did so. Curling around him slightly before sitting up, keeping her eyes closed as she swallowed a few times and became a person again.

“Good morning,” Spencer spoke over the slight crying.

“Hello,” she replied, opening one eye as she un-clipped her nursing bra, “hand him over.”

Spencer laid him in her arms, watching as she led him towards the nipple. He latched with no problems, she tilted her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes once again. She had become a pro at sleeping while feeding, excited for when he was finally big enough that she could just roll over and feed him while laying down.

Spencer watched as Edwin's little hand found its way out of the swaddle, reaching up to hold the side of her boob. His eyes wide open as he ate, staring up at his mother with amazement.

Spencer always felt a bit emotional when he really looked at them. Seeing all the best qualities of both himself and Y/N in him already, Edwin was the most perfect baby he had ever seen.

He couldn’t believe sometimes that he was his son.

He leaned his head onto Y/N’s shoulder, cuddling into her as he reached out to cup Edwin’s tiny little head. Rubbing his thumb over the soft spot covered in hair. He loved them so much it felt overwhelming.

He kissed her shoulder softly, feeling her smile as her cheek pressed against his head. “Happy Father’s Day,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” he felt the tears well before one slipped out, trailing his cheek before dropping to her shoulder in a small splash.

“Oh Spence,” she started to cry too, laughing into the tears. Making her chest bounce and disturb Edwin’s breakfast.

“I just love you so much, they’re happy tears,” Spencer said softly before he kissed her cheek.

“Seriously, Spence,” she looked at him softly, still all puffy from sleep and the pregnancy. “Making you a dad is the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“Seeing you become a mom was like, everything just connected and the world made sense,” he explained softly. “The way you just powered through and suddenly you’re helping reach down and bringing this life into the world,” he started crying again. “It was magical, the feeling of becoming a father at that moment, seeing the life we made?” He had to stop to catch his breath as he cried, lifting his shirt up to wipe his tears off his face.

“I know,” she cried in agreement, looking down at her beautiful little boy as he ate away, unaware that his sleep-deprived parents were having a moment.

“I love you,” Spencer laughed, leaning in to kiss her on the lips finally.

There was a knock on their bedroom door then, “come in?” Y/N answered as Spencer sat back against the headboard beside her.

“Good morning,” her mother and Diana cheered softly as they walked in, breakfast for the both of them on trays. “Happy father’s day!”

“Oh my god,” Spence got overwhelmed again, covering his face so he wouldn’t cry in front of them too.

“Thank you guys,” he could hear the smile on Y/N’s face as she spoke. “You didn’t have to do all this?”

“Spencer used to make me breakfast on both Father’s and Mother’s day, I thought I’d repay the favour,” Diana recalled the memory with a soft smile.

“Thank you, mom,” Spencer said as Diana placed the tray on his lap, hugging him softly before she moved back.

“We’ll leave you alone now,” Y/N’s mom added as she placed the other tray on Y/N’s side of the bed. “Call me if you need anything else?”

“Sure thing, thanks nanny,” Y/N replied, using her mother’s new nickname.

It was so nice having both of them visit, they were very helpful. Allowing them to have time to shower and use the bathroom, they cleaned the house and made all the meals while Y/N and Spencer bonded with their little miracle.

It was the best father’s day he could have asked for, with the best wife, the best son and the best family in the whole world.

He was overfilled with joy, bursting at the seams and the tears never stopped. Even as he quietly ate his own breakfast, he was sniffling and wiping the occasional tear. It was overwhelming, he was tired, he was so in love, it was just a lot for him.

When Edwin was done eating, Y/N passed him back to Spencer with a smile. Spencer held him in his arms gently before placing a burp rag in his lap and burping the little guy. Patting his back, he let out a deep burp and then sighed, making Spencer laugh. He was so cute, it was insane.

He held him close, resting Edwin’s tiny little head on his shoulder as he cradled him, bounding slightly to help him fall back to sleep, Y/N called him the baby whisperer. He was amazing, he just had to hold Edwin with his arms crossed and tilt him at an angle, and he'd stop crying. It was like Magic seeing Spencer with a baby, he just knew what he was doing.

He changed Edwin like it was nothing, he talked to him like a big kid already as he changed or bathed him. She’d overhear him in the bathroom, his voice echoing off the tiled walls as he goes on and on in Edwin’s ear about how diapers are made and how they looked for the safest ones for his little bum. It was adorable.

Edwin was wonderful, full of excitement and joy and hope. He looked at everything like it was magic, learning about the world through his brand new eyes as Spencer was gifted with witnessing it all. It was magnificent, he loved colours and belly kisses and he smiled when you poke his cheeks. He was the best thing Spencer’s ever helped make, and he was so completely in love with him. His little baby, the reason he’s a father.

His whole life was in Edwin’s hands now; whatever he wanted, Spencer would be it. Whatever he needed, Spencer would get it. He was wrapped around his finger like his life depended on it, and Spencer was fine with that. He would sell his soul for him, step in front of a bullet or a speeding train, the love he had for this little baby was unspeakably large for how small he was.

He’s wide awake in Spencer’s arms, tilting his head and licking his lips as he stares up at his father. Spencer smiles down at him, amazed by everything going on inside his mind. Thinking about the electrons firing, the memories being made and re-written by the second as he learns and explores, colours erupting in his mind like nebulas.

“Did you know you’re named after Edwin Hubble?” Spencer whispers to him, booping his nose gently, “he’s the reason we can see the stars so well, why people were able to complete their dreams and go to the stars. To see the far off worlds and contemplate what’s out there… to see a greater purpose for us all.”

Edwin had no idea what he was talking about, but he was so content listening. Knowing his dad’s voice very well from all the talking he did to Y/N’s belly over the long 9 months of anticipation to meet him.

“You’re my stars, you’re my greater purpose,” he whispers, bring him closer so he can kiss his tiny little forehead. “I love you.”

[miekasa]

mie!! since u write such beautiful gorgeous astounding breathtaking life-changing tearjerking fics, do YOU have any good fic recs that you personally love 🤔

I do! I have a whole blog of wonderful fics I’ve read (tho I desperately need to update it/reblog the ones in my drafts and tag them) @ackermeun for more if you want because there are many lovely, talented writers; but I’ll list a few of my faves for Levi and Eren below 😌😌

Levi

kiss me more by @vennilavee

Now, I could recommend you anything and everything by Saran and I have no doubt that you would love all of it. There’s not a single thing in her masterlist that I dislike, she even made me okay with the idea of pegging Levi bye. The entire tbah universe (specifically parental moments one) has a special place in my heart, but recently the perpendicular world has been on my mind, and might be coming for number one. Either way, you’re gonna love it. She writes Levi in his slightly bitchy, kinda needy, implicitly affectionate, true to nature form, and I am so grateful for it. Also, Saran is a comedian. 

silver soul by @oi-levi (now posting from @bibblelevi)

I suck at keeping up with series, and, so, naturally, I’m terribly behind on this one, but I’m gonna go ahead and rec the whole thing to you anyway, because I have no doubt that the other chapters are just as great the two I’ve read so far. The way she writes Levi... when I tell you I could wrap myself up in a blanket and binge this whole series, and her entire masterlist, and be very content I mean it; her writing feels warm, that’s the only way I can explain it. 

the art of tea composition by @karikarasuno

I don’t remember how or when I found this fic exactly, probably just scrolling through the tag, but I love it. Domestic fluff with Levi, allowing me to pretend I’m a morning person, and just the right kind of smut to go with it. Simple and very, very effective. I’ve reread it a few times by now, no shame.

where you’re meant to be by @deludedimagines

After you read this, I also suggest just going after the whole masterlist. I cannot express how grateful I am to have found this blog PLEASE. Her characterization of Levi is perfect, and something about her prose feels very clean and simple, but elevated and layered at the same time. This one-shot in particular is one of my favorite canonverse pieces, I’m a sucker for a classic injured lover trope. 

the ones who matter most by @deludedimagines

Yeah... this shouldn’t be a surprise. Fantastic writing, fluff in canonverse has a special place in my heart because I think it can be really hard to pull off well; it’s difficult to balance a sense of softness within the aot universe for the obvious reasons, and getting Levi’s caring nature right can be (unfortunately) so hard to find. Good thing people like Sorcha are here. Enjoy more fluff. Also this fic is particularly fantastic to me not just because of the injured lover trope, but because the 104th babies pay a visit and you all know how much I love a good glimpse of reluctant adoptive dad Levi hehe

bullet by @jean-does-not-have-a-horseface

If you can’t tell by now, I love canonverse fluff, tho this fic isn’t fluff in the traditional sense, but I think that makes it all the much better. Perfect depiction of real life shit that would go down in the aot world paired with Levi’s need to protect his s/o. It’s fantastic. 

the knife by @therealvalkyrie

I didn’t mean to turn this into Mie’s Favorite Canon Fics Showcase, but here we are anyway. As much as I love a good injured lover trope (and this does have that hehe), I love a good kickass reader insert, too. Shoutout to Valkyrie for included both in this fic, and Levi being proud of his s/o... well you can imagine how much I liked that bye

dante’s inferno by @alrightberries

College au + roommates au with Levi... that should be enough for you to read this lmfao, no but actually it’s adorable. Not to mention friends to lovers... if you know me you know how I feel about that, I’ll gobble up every f2l fic until I’m dead and gone. Not to mention there’s a cat and Levi won’t admit he likes it, or he’s jealous of it. Simply cannot go wrong here. 

waves know shores by @onwiings

Bro I don’t even like the idea of public sex and I’m not even a fan of water like that but this fic has me wrapped around it’s pinky lmfaoooo. Some of the best Levi smut I’ve read and you already know how I feel when Levi and reader have cute interactions with the 104th in fics. Really it’s checking every item on my list. 

Eren

speed racer by @emeren

I’m pretty sure I found this fic during my midterms last semester, and when I tell you I’m so grateful for it lmaooo. It’s really just a good au, I think it fits Eren (honestly barking at just the concept) and the writing brings it all to life. 

under the moonlight by @murmikaa

I’d have to be dumb not to recommend this to you. I love reading longer fics, and if you do, then this will 100% satisfy you. The whole story is great and immersive, not just between Eren and the reader; their relationships with the other characters are really what makes this special imo. There’s also beach sex, so. Obviously it’s good. 

untitled.avi by @puredivinity (now @celestidarling)

Naur you must of thought wrong if you thought at least one of Mara’s fics wouldn’t be here. I’m obsessed, I think I’ve read it three times minimum. I read all her Eren fics, and you should too. She writes him in such a dreamy way, almost like he’s right there and too good to be true that you must be hallucinating. Immaculate. 

midnight snacks by @writertitan

Dumb, college-typical antics and fluff with Eren... obviously you know I’m about that. The whole concept is so mundane, but so cute, you can’t help but fall for it because it could be so real!! I love that kinda stuff hehe 

i’m your satellite by @ackerfics

Comparing hand sizes with Eren!! YEAAAAH!! No, okay, but I read the summary and was ready to dive in because... size kink go crazy, but when I tell you I was so blown away to find out that it was not only from Eren’s pov, but that he was being a complete simp and down terrible the whole time. Normalize boyfriends being completely fucking in love with their gfs that simple shit like the size of their hand makes them wanna simp even harder!!!!

eren as an ass man by @hznji

I’m dying on the hill that Eren is an ass guy and you should too because it’s the objective truth. Fluff, Eren being a complete dog as per usual, Eren’s being touchy (I will also die on the hill that he’s touchy as fuck and has no concept of personal space) and just in genral snarky but cute banter. Gotta love that. 

Jean

tears over beers by @appplepii

When I tell you this is my favorite Jean fic, I mean it. Friends to lovers with hopelessly pining Jean + oblivious reader = everything I could have asked for in a fic, AND it’s from Jean’s pov too!!! INCREDIBLE!!! The pining made me yearn, and the smut was so well done, too. 

this drabble by @arlerted

Whatever, whatever, WHATEVER!!! I DON’T WANNA TALK ABOUT IT!!! Cal is right, don’t do drugs but... this mf... this imagine.... has been burned into my mind since the first time I fucking read it bye. Callie also writes a bunch of filthy (affectionate <3) fics and drabbles and lewds and you should read them, preferably when you’re alone and with the lights off. 

[drabbles-mc]

Try Again

Kozik x OFC (Tawnie Trager) (ft. Dad!Tig Trager)

Request by Anon: Kozik x female reader, where reader is Tig's first daughter (bit older than the twins, called Tawnie for lols) and no-one knows they're together, until Kozik overhears Gemma question Tawnie about the hickeys - who is like "I'm not sure whether to be mad that they're there, or mad that they're not that good" and then Kozik is pretty much like, 'challenge accepted', and Tig catches them when Kozik tries to leave better ones...?

Prequel can be found Here

Warnings: language, alcohol, slight steam

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I changed it to an OFC because the prompt felt almost a little too specific to keep it as a reader-insert lol. Hope you don’t mind! Also, y’all really like seeing Kozik come within an inch of his life with Dad!Tig lmaoooo love it

Join my group-chat here: (X) ​

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @mijop​ @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @kkim120​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @mayans-sauce​ @shadow-of-wonder​ (If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know!)

She walked into the office with a box of files in her hands. Setting it down on Gemma’s desk, she let out a sigh. Rolling and cracking her neck, she pulled her hair back for a moment to help cool down. Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead with her hair down in the middle of summer, but things had gotten a little heated the night before and Kozik had left a scattering of hickeys on the side of her neck. The rule was always to keep it below the collar but they both got a little wrapped up in things. It wasn’t a huge deal when it happened for him—he could blame it on any of the women who hung around the clubhouse. But for her it was a bit of a tougher situation.

Her father had made it clear from the get-go that she and both of her sisters were off-limits to every man in the club. Even men who were friends of the club. No one was to do so much as toss a wink or a potentially flirtatious comment their way. And for as much as she tried to tell her father that he was being ridiculous, that she was a grown woman who could and would make her own decisions, he never budged. After all, Tig had never been known for being a man to compromise.

So it was bad enough that she was sneaking behind her father’s back with someone in the club. What made it even worse was the fact that it was the one person in the MC that he couldn’t stand. She didn’t even remember how her and Kozik fell into the situation that they were in. He was always friendly with her, but he was one of the most cautious around her because he knew that Tig wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in him if he so much as thought Kozik was hitting on his daughter. And yet, somehow that flipped completely around and the two of them were sneaking off whenever the situation allowed for it.

The last few months were playing at hyper-speed in her mind as she let herself breathe for a moment in the privacy of Gemma’s office. She was staring blankly down at the box that she had just brought in, too zoned out to notice the fact that Gemma had walked in behind her.

“Well, well, well,” Gemma chuckled as she walked up behind her, “What’d you get yourself into last night, T?”

Fear shot down her spine and she instantly let her hair go, “What?”

Gemma shook her head, “Too late to hide it now, sweetheart,” she brushed her hair out of the way to get a better look at her neck, “Since you’re busted, you gotta tell me,” she leaned back against the desk, “Who done it, Tawnie?”

She rolled her eyes, “You cannot tell my dad.”

Gemma chuckled, “What Tig doesn’t know won’t hurt him. So,” she nudged Tawnie’s shoulder, “spill the beans, sweetheart.”

Kozik was about to walk in to ask Gemma about something when he heard the two of them talking. He stopped himself, lurking right outside the door. He was curious to see how the conversation was going to go—he wanted to know if Tawnie would actually confide in someone about the two of them. He’d been good, he hadn’t told a single soul about the two of them being together. It was too small of a town and word traveled way too fast. His days were numbered as it was and he didn’t want to shorten his lifespan any more than necessary by having Tig find out that he was hooking up with his daughter.

Tawnie sighed, running her hands down her face, “Kozik.”

Gemma’s eyes went wide, “Honey, why do you want him to get the shit kicked out of him?”

She laughed, “I don’t! I don’t. Please, please don’t tell my dad.”

“I won’t,” Gemma shook her head slightly, “How’d that happen, anyway?”

She shrugged, feeling the heat rise slightly in her cheeks, “I don’t really know. It all sorta just…fell together.”

“How long?”

She paused, not wanting to admit how long they’d been hiding it, “Couple months.”

“A couple months?” Gemma chuckled and shook her head, “You’ve been sneaking around for a couple months and the man still can’t leave a proper hickey?”

She laughed, giving her a playful shove, “Gemma!”

“What? I’m just saying,” she glanced at her neck, “I could leave a better one than that. And your father would be much less pissed off about it.”

“You gonna give him a how-to manual, Gemma?”

She shook her head, “That’s something he’s gotta learn on his own, sweetheart.”

She laughed, “Is that something you’d like updates on?”

Gemma smiled as she fixed Tawnie’s hair, covering back up the marks on her neck, “You won’t need to tell me—I’ll see it for myself.”

There were a few beats of silence before she spoke up again, “Thank you for, y’know, not ratting me out to my dad.”

She smiled, “The girls gotta stick together.”

Taking that as her cue to leave, Tawnie made her way towards the office door. Kozik heard the sound of her footsteps and tried to back off enough so that it wouldn’t seem obvious that he was waiting right outside the door for her. Despite the distance, though, his face gave him away. She could tell from his expression that he was trying to cover for himself, which meant that he had most definitely heard her conversation with Gemma. She felt a little bad, but she also wanted to see what he was going to say.

“Oh, hey,” she smiled, tilting her head slightly, “You good?”

He nodded, “Yea, I’m…I’m good. Is, uh, is Gemma in there?”

So he was going to play it off for the time being. Two could play at that game. She nodded, “Yea, just got in.”

“Alright, cool. Thanks. I’ll see you later?”

She nodded, “Yea of course. You gonna be around tonight for the party?”

“Are you?”

She smiled, “I think so.”

A smirk passed over his face for a moment, “Then I think so too.”

The day went by quickly. She kept herself busy with random things around the garage and the clubhouse. Normally she’d be getting her hands dirty working on whatever needed repairs, but if she couldn’t tie her hair back out of the way, she wasn’t even going to bother. It would’ve been more trouble than it was worth.

She was helping bring in a few cases of beer as people started showing up for the party. It was dark out by that point, music and loud conversations already starting to flow out through the walls of the clubhouse. She smiled and shook her head to herself as she bumped the door open with her hip.

“T,” Jax appeared on the other side of the bar from her and gave his most charming smile, “grab me a beer, please?”

She rolled her eyes but did as he asked. She popped the top off of it before handing it to him, “I’m not a bartender, Teller.”

“If you’re on that side of the bar, you’re a bartender. Those are the rules.”

She laughed and shook her head before grabbing a beer for herself, “Guess you can carry your own shit in next time.”

Making her way back to the side of the bar that wouldn’t land her with more responsibilities, she looked around the clubhouse. Everyone was hanging out having a good time. A few of the guys were playing pool, and some of them already had women draped over their laps. She chuckled as she sat herself down on a stool at the bar. Pressing the beer bottle to her lips, she silently looked for Kozik in the midst of the chaos.

They locked eyes from across the room. He was sitting on the sofa, one of the women from Cara Cara tucked underneath his arm. She almost felt herself getting jealous, but when he smiled at her all of those feelings faded away. They both knew that the price of keeping their relationship a secret was having to allow a certain amount of flirtation from the people around them. He never got too close with any of the women who hung around the clubhouse, but he couldn’t be too cold and dismissive without at least one of the guys giving him shit about it.

Tawnie refused to break eye contact as she took a long drink from her beer bottle. She could see it in his eyes that even though the party had barely started, he already wanted to leave with her. She would’ve been up for that, too, if he asked. But she knew that he wouldn’t. She contented herself with keeping an eye on everyone around her.

Tig walked up, throwing a loving arm around his daughter’s shoulders, “How you doin’, doll?”

She chuckled and leaned against him for a moment, giving him a side-hug, “I’m good, Dad. Enjoying the party?”

“Always,” he laughed, “But are you?”

She chuckled, nodding, “You know me—I’m more than happy to just sit back and watch everyone else get into trouble.”

“Good way to stay out of it.”

“Exactly,” she gave him a playful nudge, “Go keep the boys in line, alright?”

He smiled, pressing a brief kiss to the top of her head, “Love you, T.”

“Love you too,” she laughed as he took off into the fray of things.

Once the party had really gotten underway, Kozik made his way over to her. It felt safer to be closer when there was so much else going on around them—they weren’t on anyone’s radar. He leaned in close so that only she could hear him. At first it was just jokes, off-hand comments about what was going on around them. She’d laugh and shake her head, and Kozik could swear that he’d never heard a better sound.

“Think we could sneak out for a bit?” he asked.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised, “Oh?”

He nodded, “Yea,” he pushed her hair back behind her shoulder, “because apparently I have some work to make up for.”

Heat rushed to her face and she wanted to hide behind her hands. Even though she knew that he had heard the conversation with Gemma, talking about it was an entirely different thing. She looked up at him, a nervous smile on her face.

“I didn’t say—”

“Don’t even,” he laughed and shook his head.

She laughed as well, knowing that there was no trying to soften the blow to his ego. He seemed to be handling it just fine, though. They both looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to them before sneaking back towards the dorms.

Once they were in the hall, out of the main cluster of the clubhouse, Kozik instantly had his hands all over her. He walked up behind her, sliding his hands up her sides beneath her top. Without thinking about it, she melted back into him, reaching back with one hand to trail her fingers down the side of his face. His fingers gripped onto her side as he kissed along her shoulder. He spun her around so that her chest was pressed against his, pushing her back against the wall.

He crashed his lips into hers as he pinned her to the wall. She gripped the edges of his kutte and attempted to pull him as close as she possibly could. They knew it was reckless to not even bother waiting to get to his dorm, but she wasn’t in the mood to be telling him to stop. Any and all responsible thoughts left her brain the second he bit down on her bottom lip.

He pulled his lips off of hers, trailing them down along her jaw and peppering her with kisses all along the way. She couldn’t help but to smile as he placed a kiss on her neck, “Gonna give it another shot?”

His laughter vibrated against her skin, “I feel like I have to. Can’t let Gemma disrespect me like that.”

She laughed and was about to make a smart remark when she felt his teeth against the sensitive skin of her neck. Her fingers wound their way into his hair, eyes fluttering shut as his hand slipped up the front of her shirt as he continued to suck a dark mark into the side of her throat. His name was about to fall from her lips in a quiet moan when their moment was interrupted.

“What the fuck is this?” Tig snapped, eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

Kozik immediately backpedaled, nearly plastering himself against the opposite wall from Tig’s daughter. Tawnie’s face was flushed, hair and shirt a mess as she tried to look anywhere but into the eyes of her dad. She knew it was their own doing, but she still didn’t want to have to have this conversation with him.

“You’re a dead motherfucker,” within a split second Tig was charging at Kozik,

“Dad!” Tawnie jumped in, barely being able to wedge herself between the two men before serious damage was done, “Dad, stop!” she shoved him backwards with all the strength she could muster.

Tig’s chest was heaving as he looked down at his daughter, “What the fuck, T?”

“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see,” she sounded much more confident than she really felt.

“This,” he pointed at Kozik, “is not a good choice, Tawnie.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me!”

Kozik’s eyes were bouncing back and forth between the two Tragers. It wasn’t often that he saw Tawnie get heated and defensive about things. He’d certainly never pictured her speaking like that to her own father. He wanted to step in and say something but he had the feeling that that was only going to make it worse.

“And you,” Tig’s eyes bored into his, “what the fuck are you thinking?!”

It was hard to try and sound tough when Tawnie was the only thing standing between him and getting his ass beat. He still tried, though. He rested his hands protectively on her shoulders and looked directly into Tig’s eyes.

“I’m think that she’s right. That you don’t get to make that decision for us.”

“For us?” Tig stepped in closer, his blood boiling.

“I’m an adult, Dad,” Tawnie was shaking her head, “And for what it’s worth, I don’t think you get to criticize who I’m seeing when you were about to bring some random woman back to your dorm,” she cocked one eyebrow.

That got Tig to recoil a bit. He hooked his thumbs onto his belt-loops, trying to figure out what he wanted his next move to be. After a few moments of incredibly tense silence, he looked back at his daughter, “We aren’t done talking about this.”

Before she could try to give any kind of sass in return, Tig turned around and headed back towards the main part of the clubhouse, the woman he was about to whisk away following suit. Tawnie let out a deep sigh of relief as she leaned back against Kozik, taking comfort in the feeling of his arms draped over her shoulders as he kissed the top of her forehead.

“Did you think you were gonna die?” she laughed.

He chuckled, loosely wrapping his arms around her neck as he pulled her back against him, “For a second, yea.”

“My last resort would’ve been telling him that Gemma told you to do it,” she tilted her head back so she could look up at him.

He smiled down at her, “I kinda wish that you did, just so we could see his reaction.”

“He still might’ve killed you.”

“Maybe,” he sighed as he rested his forehead lightly against the back of her head.

“Does this mean you’re going to bail on your redemption plans?”

He slid his hands down so that they were resting on her hips again. Without a word he turned her and began pushing her down the hall in the direction of his dorm. She laughed as she let herself be guided down the row of doors.

“I don’t give up that easy,” he laughed quietly as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

[missanthropicprinciple]

A Tale of Elio and My Fixation with Lovable Androids

TL;DR Feel free to scroll past this unless you’re keen to read my ramblings about androids, Neoclassical art, children’s lit, and bad science fiction movies. 

Since the late 1990s one of my favourite books has been A Tale of Time City (1989) by Diana Wynne Jones. It’s a mildly confusing story but engaging, with memorable characters, including the android Elio, pictured above - my own fan art from a few years ago. Studio Ghibli really needs to make this film if no one does a live-action version, seeing as they brought Jones’ novel Howl’s Moving Castle to life. Here’s a scan of my favourite edition with mesmerizing cover art by Richard Bober.

This book inspired me so much I’ve done research on it. I wasn’t in a class in grad school that allowed me to write about it so I took it on as a casual independent project in 2019. Two days after my dad died of cancer I was scheduled to present my paper on Elio from ATOTC. Needless to say I was not able to finish writing the essay. I told the department coordinator I would likely not attend but I would let him know. He was seriously surprised that I showed up. I must have looked like a ghost - wearing a nice top, skirt, tights, and short heels. I was still in total shock but I thought I might as well press on. My paper’s working tile remains as it was: Elio: Android Autonomy and the Personification of the Sun God. I presented a long bullet point list of working ideas and research done up until that point. My work is still on the broad side because it’s an intersection of young adult fiction, Neoclassic art, and android autonomy; I have some narrowing to do. Here are my main arguments thus far: 

Firstly, the android character Elio’s physical characteristics and personality are inspired by Helios, the Hellenistic Greek god and personification of the sun. Apparently, Elio is a Spanish name meaning sun and also an Italian given name referring to the element helium, originally derived from the Greek name of the sun-god Helios. 

Secondly, Elio and Helios share more than an etymological connection and the comparison of Elio to Helios can be articulated in two distinct ways: the aesthetic comparison, and that Elio possesses some of the qualities Helios is known for. Jones’ work repeatedly associates Elio with sunlight and golden hues, aspects which are exemplified in the 1765 Neoclassical painting Helios as the Personification of Midday by Anton Raphael Mengs. (I vaguely remember translating a couple passages from a large art book written in German when I was studying Neoclassical art.) 

This work is considered an unusual depiction of Helios. Mengs uses a motif of the glowing arrow which is interpreted by François-Xavier Fabre as a symbol of the midday heat and the sun's rays which penetrate and give light to the earth. The representation of the sun in this way is considered unusual for the 18th century because it goes against Classical and Baroque iconography which portrays Helios riding a chariot. Ironically, Jones references this. Elio proclaims his fondness for films, particularly the chariot race from Ben Hur. Elio, like Mengs’ depiction of Helios, lacks a chariot but retains his beauty and powers.

As for Elio possessing some of the qualities of Helios, the god is often referred to as “all seeing” or “Zeus’s eye.” Similarly, Elio has the ability to anticipate problems and see what humans do not, but not because he’s a god, but because he’s a servant. However, this is where his self governing comes into play when he uses his observations to take action beyond any directives he has been given. His physical strength, like Helios, exceeds that of humans. Elio himself says, “my utmost is more than twice that of a born-human” (Jones, 211).

Thirdly, Elio’s self awareness allows him to use both his powers of observation and superior physical strength independent from humans. He does not always wait to be told how to use his power; he wields it. Not only does he play a part equal to that of humans in Jones’ plot, he specifically controls the fates of certain human characters. For example, he doesn’t always utilize his speed when he’s at the beck and call of his master, Sempitern. He makes choices not to fully comply with the demands made of him.

My fourth point, which I can’t quite articulate well, is that the most significant dynamic of this comparison is the body of Elio and how his physicality interacts with his autonomy. Elio acts as an individual who contributes to a wider mythology just as Helios does. Yet, while Elio is superior to humans in many ways, his quasi-humanity allows him to act in ways which align with Helios’ qualities.

For example, Elio makes personal choices and exhibits emotions not necessary for him, as an android, to function. He confesses a desire to harm another android out of annoyance where a passionate opinion would not be expected from an android. This human failing is indicative of the same autonomy which allows him to act as Helios does. Elio has been constructed as a superhuman body in terms of his abilities, however, the human qualities which contribute to his Helios-like powers undermine his intended purpose. 

Ultimately, Elio ascends the usefulness of his “owned” body by acting independently from the humans who utilize him. His human qualities make him vulnerable and therefore he loses some of his godlike powers. Elio, while only an assistant to his human owners, utilizes his own physical and mental powers to maintain his autonomy. Conversely, his god-like qualities make Elio more human rather than affirming his android identity.

This is a very complex subject and I don’t really know where I’m going with it and have possibly made some suppositional errors. TL;DR: What I do know is that Elio presents a paradox: being idealized for his abilities allows him to be autonomous while being autonomous disrupts the servitude of his body.

I am in the process of determining what lens I will use to analyze Elio’s experience and functionality of being an android. I’m thinking about using Alan Turning’s 1950 work Computing Machinery and Intelligence. I’m still navigating the literary theory aspect, or indeed philosophical aspect, of this area of study. 

This brings me to something I came across later that relates to Elio and ATOTC. 

SPOILERS AHEAD

The closest depiction of an android that I’ve seen to Elio other than Data is from a terrible and somewhat forgotten science fiction film from 1989. “Byron”, (played by pre-Jurassic Park-fame Bob Peck) the android in the painfully awful film Slipstream comes very close to Elio in terms of tone, attitude, and characterization. Despite the embarrassingly bad script and dialogue, Peck does a bang-up job, seemingly acting in a wonderful film running parallel to the absolute trash his co-stars were apparently “acting” in. Yes, I rewatched this film just to write this analysis. (The secondhand embarrassment is off the charts and I had it playing at a low volume most of the time Byron was not on the screen.)

When you first see Byron he’s acting out autonomy but you’re not aware he’s an android. The audience is told he’s an escaped fugitive, a murderer, and that’s all we know for over half the film. Yet there are several clues. When you first see him he’s running over rugged terrain in a suit which was kind of a big hint but nothing makes sense in this film so I just thought that it was a weird costume choice. Then he’s literally shot with a grappling hook. He doesn’t seem to be in pain even though he’s shocked by it, and then is pulled down by a bounty hunter named Tasker (Mark Hamill) and hits the ground from a great height and doesn’t die. He just quotes what I think is John Gillespie Magee, Jr.’s "High Flight”: “I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth….and touched the face of God.” Next time you see him, he’s in handcuffs, looking super depressed, and apparently not bleeding out from the now absent grapple hook that’s gone through his forearm. 

He eventually quotes Lord Byron to cryptically indicate his name which is lost on Bill Paxton’s character, Matt. “Byron” essentially means cowshed. It’s ironic because Byron the android is in many ways a receptacle of knowledge. Matt even says sarcastically, “Well aren’t you a walking storeroom of information,” and Byron responds cheerfully, “Yes.” 

Byron breaks out of his handcuffs saying they’d “become rather superfluous.” You think he’s just showing off but once you know he’s an android you know he’s just honest all the time. He then heals a blind child and paraphrases Psalm 127:3. Matt says, “I didn’t know you were a healer.” Apparently Byron can perform cataract surgery in less than five minutes. Along their journey together (Bill is set on collecting the bounty on Byron’s head before Tasker can catch up) they camp out. Byron sleeps with his eyes open. (Even if he is an android wouldn’t his eyes need to be “cleaned” in the same way humans need to close our eyes and blink?) Matt wakes up to find Byron seemingly strangling him. “I was feeling your carotid pulse,” he explains. “I was just checking for arrhythmia and episodes of ventricular tachycardia.” At this point you realize he’s not so much a spiritual healer as a doctor who philosophizes a lot. 

Byron’s miraculous behavior and pontificating is called into question by a nomadic spiritual community which has been torn apart by an attack on their village. As he lays dying, Ben Kingsley’s character calls Byron a “false prophet” but his faith in this stranger is somewhat restored when he says, “all that will be left of me is bits of gold in the sand. You have a soul, do not abandon it in death.” 

Another character says, “The stranger is no mortal man.” Therefore it is clear that Byron likely isn’t human. We don’t find out he’s an android until 46 minutes into the film. Once that’s cleared up, other concepts arise in the script. While not well executed, they are really interesting; emotion both positive and negative, free will, perfection, A.I. slavery, and murder are all addressed throughout the second half of the film. Byron says he doesn’t understand “hate” in context of his “master” to whom he was nurse, brother, father, mentor, and friend, but he admits he was more of a slave than anything else. 

The character Ariel takes an interest in him for a variety of reasons, especially romantically. In one very evocative moment we see Byron in a museum exhibit, a false garden of Eden, full of fake vegetation and taxidermies, full body mounts. So we’ve got an android having an Adam experience. Whether or not he experiences “original sin” with Ariel or if he’s “fully functional” is never acknowledged. Although one woman says, “Amanda slept with a robot?!” (who the f**k is Amanda?!) and a man says to another sitting next to him, “I hear they’re rather mechanical in the saddle.” 

Byron is less concerned with consummation and more excited about love, sleep, and dreaming. When he is with Ariel he doesn’t quite know how to act in terms of sexual play and then apologizes: “I’m not accustomed to being loved.” We see him closing his eyes when he’s cuddled up with Ariel; the next day he is certainly very pleased that he fell asleep with his eyes closed and had a dream. 

In terms of his servitude and autonomy they did not spend an adequate portion of the exposition on it. Matt has a change of heart and says instead of collecting the bounty, he’ll set him free as it’s briefly revealed that Byron killed his “master” upon the man’s request. Naturally, this brings up a lot of confusing feelings for Byron. “Is this what it’s like to be human? I don’t think I’m up to it,” he says. “Can I be trusted with human feelings?” And in a way he cannot. Ariel is brutally shot by Tasker.

Byron is angered over Ariel’s death and follows the bounty hunter to his ship. Instead of taking him in to collect a reward, Tasker tries to run him down with the glider plane. Byron manages to get himself caught in the engine and starts to strangle his assailant. Tasker quotes “touched the face of god” which brings Byron to his senses and he stops killing Luke Skywalker Tasker and tries to save the plane. It looks like he’s going to hot-wire it but then uses the wires like reins (chariot imagery???). They crash into the side of a mountain slope. Tasker dies but Byron survives. Apparently he’s basically indestructible and somewhat godlike. “I’m too dangerous to be human,” Byron tells Matt. In the end, he goes off in search of the place he’d been dreaming about. 

Although in terms of physical appearance the two androids are vastly different, they have so much in common. Here are some basic concepts. 

Character: Both are stoic, formal, intelligent, honest

Indestructible: Byron is injured with a grappling hook, takes a major fall of about 20 or 30 feet without a scratch: he is somewhat godlike or slave-like, meant to withstand destruction and pain. Elio is less indestructible but easily repaired.

Healer: Byron has the skills to heal people with basic surgery. Elio doesn’t take his own injuries seriously and experiences pain for the first time (Jones, 218-9).

Both think they deserve to be punished: Elio states this quite clearly (Jones, 276) and Byron says the same thing about himself with resigned passivity.

Complex relationship with “human emotions”: Both come to terms with violence, anger, and love.

Autonomy: At the end of the film Byron goes off on his own to look for a promised land. Elio decides his own fate by deciding to accompany the children of the story, stating that Vivian is a “particular favorite” of his (278). 

Dreaming and stories: Byron is searching for a place, “where I think I belong,” he says, which is a place he often thinks and dreams about. Dreaming is considered to be a human attribute, a non-essential bi-product to consciousness. Elio enjoys stories and old films (Jones, 180), similarly “human” in nature. 

(Peck, seen here waiting for Bill Paxton to learn how to act. Sorry, I’m salty.)

Disclaimer: This is a work in progress! This project is an intersection of niche subjects that interest no one but myself. 

Anyway, my point is (yes, I did have a point...or rather several) was that if anyone should adapt A Tale of Time City, Byron from Slipstream is the best example of how Elio should be portrayed in terms of characterization. I feel that Slipstream should have been centered around Byron. The film was kind of like, just about the “we’re both fighting over the bounty of this fugitive” sorta thing. It would have made more sense to focus on Byron as he is arguably the most interesting character and represents many of the conflicts within the story. I would like to combine my research on ATOTC and Slipstream one day. In any case, this is a good start. 

Works Cited (WIP) 

Jones, Diana W. A Tale of Time City: Knopf, 1987. Print. Perkowitz, Sidney. Digital People: From Bionic Humans to Androids. Washington, D.C: Joseph Henry Press, 2004. Print.

Roettgen, Steffi, and Anton R. Mengs. Anton Raphael Mengs: 1728-1779 Part 2. München: Hirmer, 1999. Print.

Turing, A. M. “Computing Machinery and Intelligence.” Mind, vol. 59, no. 236, 1950, pp. 433–460. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/2251299. Wilson, Eric. The Melancholy Android: On the Psychology of Sacred Machines. Albany: State University of New York Press, 2006. Print

[avocadogirl216]

Another Winchester?

AN: Hello Everyone! So lately I’ve been wanting to write a winchester x sister!reader and I got this idea. Just know that this is my first ever story that I have shared with anyone else so please let me know of any mistakes or any of your thoughts. Thank you!

Summary: You are the little sister of The infamous Winchester brothers and this is how you meet them. This is set in season six after Sam gets his soul back.

Warnings: Mentions of drinking and drugs,language, mentions of sex, some violence, mention of abusive mother, suicide by overdose, some blood and I think that’s it.

!TRIGGER WARNING! If you are easily triggered by mentions of abuse, suicide or drugs please DO NOT read this.

 Your name is (YN) Anderson. You’re 14 and a hunter. Your mother is Melinda Anderson who is a alcoholic and a drug addict. She was always either high or drunk and no matter what day or time it was. She was unemployed and brought home sketchy men almost every night.  She had an awful temper and the tiniest things would set her off and when she got angry, you didn’t want to be with her.  She would take it out on you and if she was too tired or drunk she would let her one night stands beat you until you were unconscious.  

Let’s just say you weren’t a big fan of her. You’ve tried to run away multiple times but since your mom has many drug dealers and one night stands pretty much everywhere in town you would always get caught.

Your father was John Winchester the infamous hunter. You didn’t know much about him. All that you knew was that he was in the Marines and that his wife, Mary Winchester, died in 1983. From time to time you would daydream about him, wondering what your life would be like if you lived with him instead of your mom.  

John worked a case in that town and after he finished the job he went to a bar got drunk and found your mom. Nine months later you were born.

You met your father when you were seven and there was a pack of werewolves in town that your father was hunting. He found out about you a couple years earlier and was surprised to find out that he had another child. Since he had been close to finding Yellow Eyes he didn’t have time to visit you and since him and Dean were hunting together for most of the time he didn’t want Dean to grow suspicious.

John shot a bullet in the heart of what he thought was the last werewolf he decided to finally go meet you.  He was nervous because he didn’t want anything happening to you considering his job.

He finally pulled up to your house. It was small and a little rundown but he didn’t care. All he cared about was you.

You were watching cartoons on the old TV in the living room when you heard the doorbell ring. Your little head perked up and the sudden noise.  You hopped off of the couch and walked over to the door and opened it only to reveal a man who was tall and muscular.  He looked down at you and started to take in your features.  

You were a spitting image of him except you had your mother’s chin and pale skin. You looked at each other in wonder for a good minute.

“H-hi” you squeaked. You were scared of the man standing at your door, especially since he was so big.

“Hey” John said while he was kneeling down to your height. God she is so small he thought.

“Who are you?” You said with more confidence.

John hesitated before he spoke. “My name is John.”

“What are you doing here?” You spoke while crossing your arms.

“I came to meet you.” He said

“Why?”

“Because...” he said while trying to think of the right words “I’m your father.”

You were surprised and a little confused.

You had a lot of questions. Your father? What was he doing here? Where had he been all your short and terrible life? You squinted your eyes and tilted your head a little.

John knew that you were confused “I know that this is a lot of information to take in and maybe if you get your mother then maybe she can explain things easier then I can.”

You didn’t want to bring you mother into this because then she would get furious at you about opening the door and talking to this man. You were tempted to let him in and talk to him and not caring about what her thoughts were. You knew what the punishment would be if you did that. But you were curious to learn more about this man.

“Mom isn’t home right now but you can come in if you want.”

John looked at you in shock. The way you trusted him to come into your house since you just met him made him worried. He saw how sketchy this town was and he saw some of the people, most importantly the men, on the streets and was nervous about how trusting you were.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah”

“Don’t you think that I might hurt you or something?” He asked.

“No”

“Why is that?”

“Because you have a different look in your eyes then the other guys in this town.” You stated.

She’s smart thought John.

“So do you want to come in or...” you asked.

John hesitated “Uh yeah”

You opened the door for him and John walked in. He observed the place. It was dirty and needed cleaning, badly. You seemed to notice his eyes lingering on a certain spot on the wall.

“Sorry” you said shyly

“For what?”

“Our house is dirty” you said while tears started to form in your eyes.

John noticed this and kneeled down once again and hugged you. “It’s alright” he said. You sniffled and pulled back.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah”

You two moved over to the couch and sat down. Y’all stared to talk and before you knew it, it was dark outside.  

You yawned.

“You tired?” John asked

“Yeah” you said while yawning agian

“Why don’t we put you to bed? Huh?”

“Will you be here tomorrow?” You asked

John sighed “I don’t think I can stay.”

“Why not?” You said sadly

“Because-“ but before he could say anything else the front door crashed opened and 3 men with yellow eyes, long nails and pointed teeth ran in.

You screamed while John hid you behind his back. The wolves surrounded the both of you.

“Well well what do we have here?” The biggest of the three said “The mighty John Winchester with a little girl. How cute.”

John pulled out his gun “How did you find us?”

“It wasn’t too hard. We just followed your scent and it led us to you.” Said another wolf.

“I’m going to enjoy ripping you apart for killing my family” said the biggest wolf.

“And the little girl will just be a bonus” snickered the smallest.

“Ok listen, you can have me just let her go” John said while you were clinging to his legs, shaking like a leaf.

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen” said the second wolf.

Then all of a sudden you screamed as you were ripped from Johns legs by a wolf that came in through the back door.

“No!” Yelled John

You were now crying hysterically. You didn’t know what was happening or who these people were. “Dad!” You screamed holding your arms out to him while struggling to get away from the werewolf holding you.

“Dad?” Said the one holding you “You have another kid?” The werewolf asked as he bent down and smelled you which was startling and made you whimper. Then the wolf stood up to his full height and said “Yep the little rugrat is yours. I can smell your blood in her veins.”

“Please just let her go” John pleaded “I’ll give you anything!”

“Now this doesn’t sound like the big, bad John Winchester that I’ve heard about.” Said the smallest one.

“How about you let her go and then I’ll show you how big and bad I am” John said with a sneer.

“Hmmm that does sound tempting but I have a better idea.” Said the fourth werewolf.

He kneeled and looked at you in the eyes while putting one hand on each shoulder. “This isn’t going to hurt for long” he said while showing you his teeth. You whimpered, still trying to get away from the monster from your nightmares.

Then a gunshot went off behind you which made you scream once again.

John was tackled to the ground by the other two werewolves and his gun slid across the floor hitting the wall to your left.

You were trying to get to him when the wolf that was holding you grabbed you tight and dug is long, sharp nails into your shoulders. You screamed in pain.

John brought out a silver knife and killed the other two wolves. He then tackled the wolf holding you and was on top of him in seconds.

They were fighting and you ran to the nearest corner watching as best that you could with the tears that were in your eyes.

The wolf then punched your dad in the face and flipped them so now he had the upper hand while your dad was struggling underneath him.

You were scared but you wanted to help so you looked over at the gun and picked it up.

You didn’t know how to use a gun but you did know that when you pulled the trigger the bullet would come out. So you pointed it at the monster that was hurting your father and you pulled the trigger.

A load shot rang off the walls and startled you. John then pushed the dead wolf off of him and ran over to you.

“Are you ok?”

You were shaking and confused “WHAT WAS THAT?!”

John sighed and debated on telling you what that really was.

“DAD WERE THOSE THINGS?” You Said sobbing.

He pulled you into a hug and picked you up. He then sat on the couch with you in his lap.

No way I’m getting out of this one John thought. He sighed. The told you everything.

You were terrified and confused.

After a while you fell asleep in Johns lap. He put you to bed, cleaned up the mess and left.

You woke up the next morning looking for your father but he was nowhere to be found.

About a week later a package came in the mail you opened it and it was a journal from him telling you everything you needed to know about how to kill monsters. That was the last time you ever saw your father.

Seven years later

(YN)’s POV

Dammit! 

You just got off of your shift from the towns diner and you were running late to get home.

Mom is going to be so pissed.

Since your Mom didn’t work you had to find a job which was the dishwasher at the local diner. You were surprised that they would hire you considering that you were only 14 but life is full of surprises.

You ran down the street at full speed and took two right turns and one left and there was your house.

You were hoping that your mother wasn’t home but your luck seems to be running out lately because her car was in the driveway.

Crap

You took some deep breaths and walked through the front door.

Something was off. You could feel it. The TV wasn’t on like it normally is or the fresh smell of weed wasn’t was strong as it usually was. But mom could be upstairs with another guy like Ace or James but there was this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you different.

You pulled out your gun loaded with silver bullets and started to go though the house. Downstairs was clean. You slowly start to walk up the stairs to the second floor. She wasn’t in the bathroom or your bedroom. You took the risk of checking her room.  

You opened the door and you found her on the floor. Unmoving.

You walk over see a empty pill bottle in one hand and half a bottle of Jack Daniels in the other.

She still hasn’t moved.

You bent down slowly and checked her pulse.

Nothing.

Your mother was dead.

Dean’s POV

“I don’t know man. There isn’t any activity out there.” Said Sam

“Well I guess that we got lucky then.” Dean said as he looked over at his brother.

Sam scoffed “Dean I’m fine. I don’t remember anything about being soulless or anything about hell. So you can stop worrying about me.”

“I’m sorry have you met me?” Dean said “ I just want you to be careful and not having any activity is good because people are safe and you have less of a chance of your wall breaking and leaving you a drooling mess on the floor.”

Sam rolled his eyes “Yeah, whatever”

Dean returned is concentration to the road. He was actually glad that he could have a day off and hopefully he could stop thinking about the world ending crap that was hanging over their heads.

Another hour passed then there was a vibration coming from the glove department.

“What’s that?” Asked Dean

“I think its one of dad’s old phones.” Said Sam while he was opening the glove department. He searched through the clutter until he found the phone.

He answered it.

“Hello?” Sam Said

“Hello is this John Winchester?” Said a woman on the other end with an annoying high pitched voice.

Sam look over at Dean.

What? Dean mouthed

They’re asking for Dad. Sam mouthed back.

What do they want? 

I don’t know 

“Sir are you still there?” Said the annoying woman on the phone.

“Yeah I’m still here.”

“Is this John Winchester?” She asked again.

“Umm... no this isn’t him.” Said Sam. Dean then took the phone out of his brothers hand and started to talk.

“Why do you need him?” Asked Dean

“Sorry sir I cannot tell you unless you are John Winchester or a relative” said the woman.

“I’m his son. Now who are you and why do you need my father?” Dean said angrily.

“Apologies. My name is Cindy with Bay Area Adoption Services in Mountain View, California.  I am calling regarding John Winchester’s daughter.”

Daughter?

“Umm last time I checked my father doesn’t have another kid.” Said Dean.

“Well he does. His name is on her birth certificate and there was a DNA test done when she was born and this was the only number listed to get in contact with him.”

Dean was confused. Dad had a daughter? He had a little sister? Why didn’t he tell me about her?

“Why do you need him? Did something happen?” Dean asked.

“Yes something happened but I cannot discuss that over the phone since I have no identification on who you are. If you want to talk about the situation then we are going to have to meet up.”

“Umm ok. Where do you want to meet up at?”

“Bay Area Adoption Services in Mountain View, California” Said Cindy

They were in Nevada which was about 11 hours until Mountain View.

“What time?”

...

“I can’t believe we are doing this.” Said Dean. He was starting to have second thoughts.

“Hey it’s our sister. It doesn’t hurt to be curious.” Said Sam

“Yeah but what if she is like Adam? Huh? What then?”

“What if she’s not?” Argued Sam

“Well-“ Dean was interrupted by Cindy walking through the door.

“Hello! You much be the Winchester brothers! It’s so nice to meet you!” Cindy Said.

God her voice is worse in person. Thought Dean.

“Yup that’s us.” Sam Said

“So I’ve gone over your identifications and you seem to fit the profiles.” Cindy Said too enthusiastically.

“Good” Said Dean

“So I’m thinking that you would like to know some things about your sister.”

“Yeah” Dean said

“Well (YN) is 14 and a straight A student in all honors classes. She is actually in a grade higher than she should be. She is a little shy but who can blame her for everything she’s been through.”

“Wait. Everything she’s been through?” Asked Dean

“Well she didn’t have a father figure in life and her mother was a alcoholic and a drug addict who was also abusive.  Since her mother was unemployed, (YN) had to work two jobs after school and on the weekends. So her life hasn’t been easy.”

“She was abused? Why didn’t you do anything about it?” Asked Sam

“Believe me we tried.” Said Cindy “But every time we went to inspect, her mother would hide things, so we had nothing to report. But we could tell after the incident that (YN) was a little relieved that she wasn’t around her anymore.”

“The incident?” Asked Dean

“(YN) came home from working at the local diner to find her mother dead on the floor.”

Sam and Dean shared a look.

“How exactly did her mother die?” Asked Sam

“Overdose on sleeping pills and alcohol.” Cindy stated. “Why?”

“Just curious” Said Dean

Poor kid 

“Okay... well would you like to meet (YN)?”

Cindy Asked.

“Why not” Dean Said with a slightly fake smile.

“Let me go get her.” Said Cindy happily.

(YN)’s POV

They pulled you out of breakfast to talk to someone who might be willing to adopt you. You’ve been here for three days now and all you wanted was to get the hell out of there. Lately you’ve been planning to get out and your pretty close to a almost foul proof plan.

Cindy took you into a room with 4 chairs and a table in the middle. It looked like an interrogation room. There were also two men. One was really tall with long, shaggy hair with puppy dog eyes. The other was slightly shorter with short, spiky hair and apple green eyes. Both were muscled and intimidating to you, considering that you were only 5’1.

“I’ll leave you three to talk to each other.” Cindy Said in her annoyingly high pitched voice.

She closed the door and there was an awkward silence that followed.

You walked over to the table and sat down in front of the two of them.  You stared at each other for a little while when the taller one that reminds you of a moose decided to break the ice.

“Hi. I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean.” He Said as he held out his hand for you to shake.

“Umm hi. I’m (YN)” you said quietly, taking Sam’s hand.

You looked over at Dean to see if his hand was out to shake but it wasn’t so you just put your hand in your lap.

An awkward silence followed. “So...” you said trying release the tension in the room.

“So...” Said Dean

“Umm So where did you guys come from?” You Asked

“Northern Nevada” Sam said

“Huh. Isn’t that like 11 hours away or something?” You asked

“Yup” Dean said flatly. He looked bored. Like he didn’t want to be here but honestly neither did you.

A moment of silence followed. You kept looking around the room while wringing your hands, trying to think of a way to either break the silence or get out of there.

While you were looking around your necklace fell out of the collar of your shirt which had an anti possession symbol on it.

“What’s that?” Dean said pointing to your necklace.

You looked down and saw the necklace. “Oh umm it’s a charm that prevents possession.” You Said. Wow real smooth (YN). Now they might think that you worship Satan or something.

“Possession? Like demonic or...?” Dean questioned.

“Well yeah.” You Said.

“Huh. You believe that stuff?” Dean asked skeptically.

You looked at him in the eye. “Call me superstitious.”

Sam and Dean looked at you curiously.

These two know a lot more than they were letting on. The way that they looked at you and the way that Dean asked questions, they probably knew a thing or two about the supernatural world. You were going to ask them if they believed in the supernatural but the door suddenly opened and in walked Cindy “Well now that you’ve learned a little bit about each other I hope that the brothers have come to a conclusion.” She said hopefully while looking between you and the brothers.

“Umm...well... could we talk to you in private please:” Sam Said

“Of course! (YN) could you please come with me?”

“Yeah, sure” you said. You wanted to get out of there more than anything. You gave one last look over to the mysterious brothers who are supposedly from Nevada and you walked out.

Cindy took you to your temporary room and closed the door behind you.

Something was off about those two. I can feel it. I don’t want to stick around and find out. You decided to put your plan into action. You grabbed your backpack with your clothes, money and hunting supplies then opened your window. You were on the third floor so jumping wasn’t an option. You looked on both sides of the building noticing a fire escape a couple of feet away. The only way to get to that was to walk on the tiny ledge on the side of the building that couldn’t have been more than a foot wide. So your options were you could either go with those mysterious men who were demons or god knows what or walk down this ledge and more than likely fall and break a couple of bones. 

No competition.

You carefully put your foot on the ledge and grabbed onto the side of the building as best as you could. You started to shuffle over to carefully.  There was a large gust of wind that nearly made you topple over the edge but you quickly grabbed onto the edge of the fire escape. Breathing in a sigh of relief, you put one leg over the rail of the escape, then the other. You started to climb down the ladder until you reached the ground.

You ran down the alley and never looked back at the adoption center.

Deans POV

Cindy came back 3 minutes later.

“So have you boys come to a decision?” Cindy asked.

“Well...(YN) seems like a good kid but-” Sam tried to say but Dean interrupted him “Is there a way that we can wait on the adoption? So that we can have some time to think about this?” Sam gave is brother a look saying what are you doing?

“Of course. I can give you 24 hours to think this over. I understand your hesitation considering that adoption is a huge step in both yours and (YN)’s life.”

“Great. See you in 24 hours.” Dean said while walking out of the room.

Once the brothers were outside and in Baby, Sam had a million questions for his brother.

“What the hell Dean?”

“What?”

“You’re not seriously considering this, are you?” 

“Why not?” Dean asked

“Dean you know that this life isn’t for a kid, especially one who has barley lived their life.” Sam argued.

“Don’t you think that I know that? I’m not stupid Sam, I know how dangerous this life is, but you saw her necklace and she knew exactly what it represented. Maybe she already hunts.”

“Are you nuts Dean? She’s only 14. How could she hunt? With a fake badge? We both know that no one would buy that and not to mention that she didn’t have that look to her.”

“What look?”

“The look that every hunter has, the look of not having hope and the look of lose and pain.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. I think that she already knows about whats really in the dark and she more than likely knows how to kill almost every evil son of bitch that’s out there.” Dean said.

“We need proof Dean.” Sam said with a hint of annoyance.

“I know that. I’m still not even 100% about this yet but how about this, if we can’t find any proof in the next 24 hours then we drop it and let (YN) have a normal life and get adopted by a soccer mom or something, but if we do find any proof then we can take her and help her.  After all she is Dad’s kid, so if any monsters find out about that then we have to protect her. Deal?” Dean offered.

Sam sighed and looked out the window for a good minute before answering. “Deal”

(YN)’s  POV

You walked to the bus station and opened the door.  There weren’t that many people in there. There was a married couple arguing with the ticket agent about a refund, there was a frazzled mother and her crying child at the vending machines and there was a homeless man who was very dirty and sitting at one of the many benches.

You walked over to one of the counters to a ticket agent who looked bored and annoyed.  “Can I help you?” He said flatly. 

“Umm yeah I was hoping to buy a bus ticket.” You said

“Doesn’t everyone.” Said the man “And aren’t you a little young to be buying a bus ticket by yourself?”

You pulled out your wallet and handed the man a 20. “I don’t have to be.” You said.

The agent perked up and immediately took the money with a little too much force.  “Where to?”

“Whats your furthest route?” You asked.

“Hmm lemme see.” The man said while looking at his computer.  After about half a minute of listening to the man type he answered “Aspen, Colorado.”

“Perfect. How much?” 

“About $400.” 

Your mouth dropped open but you gotta do what you gotta do “Okay” You said while handing him the money. He counted the money out loud and when he was satisfied he pushed a button on the keyboard and a ticket printed out. He handed you the ticket. “The bus leaves here in about 5 hours.”

“Okay, thank you.” You stared to walk out but something crossed your mind. You need to cover your tracks because CPS will be looking for you and they would more than likely come here. So you turned around and walked back to the counter and pulled out a 50 and handed it to the man. “If anybody comes in here asking for me, tell them that I went to Southern California.”

The man gave you a look but took the money. “You betcha.”

You walked out of the building and you put the ticket into your left jacket pocket. You had time to kill and on your way here you saw a small diner. So you started to make your way to the diner.

...

You took a seat  at the back of the diner and sat in a chair facing away from the door. You ordered a bacon cheeseburger with extra fries and extra bacon with a cherry coke. While you were waiting for your food you heard a rumble of a car. You turned around and saw a beautiful black ‘67 Chevy Impala pulling into a parking spot.

Damn what I would kill to have that car

While you were admiring the car you didn’t see who was driving it.  When both of the front doors swung open the two men from the adoption center walked out and shut the doors.

Crap. What are they doing here?

You turned around and put on your hood on to cover your face.

I can’t leave now, they would notice me.

You tried to think of any escape routes other than the front door. The back door from the kitchen might work if you didn’t get caught which is a pretty big if. There might be a window in the bathroom but if there wasn’t then you would have to walk out and risk them seeing your face. You were trapped.

The bell above the door rung and Sam and Dean walked in and sat down at one of the tables in the middle. You moved your hair to try to cover your face more.

“What are you two fellas gonna get?” The waitress, Kacey, asked.

“I’ll have a bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon and extra fries while my brother here will have a salad with extra tomatoes.”

“Ok. I’ll get that right out.” Kacey said in a cheery voice.

After a couple of minutes of listening to Sam and Dean argue about who was better, Jet Li or Chuck Norris, Kacey brought out your order.

“Would you like to have any condiments with that?΅

“Umm, some ketchup please.” You said quietly trying not to be heard by the brothers.

“Okay! Be out in a shake!” Kacey said while walking back to the kitchen.

Deans phone rang and he answered it. After another minute of waiting, Kacey walked out with the ketchup. She placed the bottle on the table and walked away. You put some by your fries and on your burger. When you were done you screwed the lid back on it and placed it on the edge of the table. Dean hung up the call and started to talk quietly with Sam. You reached for your drink and your arm bumped into the bottle which made it topple over the edge of the table. It broke with a crash.

Of course it had to be a glass bottle.

Everyone in the tiny diner looked at where the noise came from and looked straight at you. You looked up and saw the brothers staring at you. 

Uh oh

They shared a look, stood up and walked over to your table.

Crap what do I do?

They stood at the end of your table and stared down at you.

“Well hello (YN). Fancy meeting you here.” Dean said.

You tried to play it off cool. “I know. Isn’t it a small world?” You said with a nervous chuckle.

Dean crossed his arms while Sam arched is eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked while taking a seat across from you. Dean followed suit.

“Umm...eating?”

“Cute. He means why are you here instead of the adoption center?” Dean said

“Well... I went on a walk and got hungry and then I came here.” You said while scratching the back of your neck.

“Huh” Sam said, not buying a word you were saying,“Some walk. Considering that the adoption center just called us saying that you were missing.” Sam said.

You didn’t know what do say so you just looked down at your hands in your lap.

“Are you running away?” Dean asked

You looked back up at them. “If you want to call it that.”

“Why?” Dean asked while looking in your eyes.

“Because I don’t want to stick around here and I don’t want to get adopted.”

“Why not?” Sam asked while looking at you with his puppy eyes.

“Because I have very bad luck that follows me wherever I go. Believe me I’m saving you the trouble.” You said while popping a fry in your mouth.

“Bad luck like...” Sam pried

“Bad luck like getting people hurt or worse.” You said a little agitated.

“Is this about your mom?” Dean asked

You tensed when he said the word mom.

“No”

The brothers noticed you tense. “Are you sure?” Sam asked.

You let out an angry sigh “This has nothing to do with my mom. I hated her and I know what you are gonna say ‘Oh your just overreacting’ or some crap like that but I did and I still do.  She was a selfish bitch who only cared about drinking, drugs and sex. So could you please drop it.” You now had tears spilling down your face and you avoided eye contact with Sam and Dean.

Silence followed for about a minute then you wiped your face and got your self situated. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to blow up like that.”

“Hey its okay. Its understandable.” Sam said

You sniffled.

More awkward silence followed. You wanted to break the silence so you asked them a question. “So I’m just wondering, why did you guys come from Nevada for me?”

“Well we got a phone call from the agency telling us about you.” Dean said

“Why? Were you guys looking for someone to adopt or what?” You asked

Sam and Dean looked at each other then Dean spoke. “No but they were looking for our dad.”

“Why would they be looking for your dad?”

The brothers were quiet for a little bit, trying to find the right words.

“Who are you people?” You asked

“We told you.” Dean said

“Yeah you told me your first names and that’s it.”

Dean sighed “My name is Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sam.”

“Winchester? Like John Winchester?” You asked

“You know him?” Dean asked

“Well yeah. He’s my dad.” You said it like it was obvious.

“Well... he’s our dad too.” Sam said

“What?!” You said. Dad had other kids? I had brothers?

“Hold on. Have you even met dad before?” Dean asked

“Once. About seven years ago.”

“What happened?”

You went quiet. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try us” Sam said

You sighed. “I was seven and it was a normal day. Mom was out and I was home alone when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it and there stood Dad. We talked and hung out all day and when it was night I was ready to go to bed when...” you stopped yourself. If you told them what really happened then they would think that you are crazy.

“When what?” Dean asked

“When the door was kicked in and some... werewolves broke in.” You looked up at your brothers and they were staring at you.

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”

“We never said we didn’t” Sam said calmly “What happened after that?”

You took a deep breath “Then they surrounded us while Dad got a gun out. The wolves were talking about how he didn’t seem to live up to his reputation. One snuck in and grabbed me from Dad.  It nearly bit me when dad killed the others and tackled the one who was holding me.  I saw his gun on the floor. picked it up and killed it. Then Dad told me about everything.”

Sam and Dean were quiet. 

“Then what happened?” Sam asked

“I woke up the next morning and he was gone. A week later he sent this in the mail.” You dug around in your bag when you finally found the old, leather bound journal that he sent to you all those years ago.

“This has taught me everything I know about hunting.” You said as you handed your brothers the journal.

Dean took it and flipped through the pages. “It’s in his handwriting.” He said to Sam.

Sam then took it from his brother and did the same as Dean. He handed it back to you.

Sam spoke “We have one like it.” He signaled Dean to get it out. Dean gave you a wary look but got it out and handed it to you. 

It looked just like yours but thicker and more worn.

“May I?” You asked

Dean and Sam nodded.

You flipped it open. You were hit with the smell of whiskey and ink. You flipped through the pages when a picture fell out. You picked it up and observed it. It was of a woman with a bright smile and blond hair hugging a little boy whose face was full of freckles and had bright green eyes.

You looked up at Dean and asked him “Is this you and your mom?”

“Yeah” He said with a hint of sadness

“She’s pretty.” You said as you handed him the photo and the journal.

“Thanks” He said.

“So, you hunt?” Sam said

“Yeah I do. Mostly ghosts and demons but there’s been a pack of werewolves or vamps here and there. I killed a ghoul and a witch once. That wasn’t very fun.” You told them.

They looked at you like you just grew two heads.

“By yourself?” Dean asked in shock.

“Yeah”

“But your only 14.” Sam said with the same amount of shock as his brother.

“And? Age is just a number. I know how to work a gun and I know how to kick some ass.” You said in a proud voice.

“When did you actually start to hunt?” Dean asked in a big brother voice.

“When I was 10. When I was younger I found cases and sent them to local hunters and now I hunt with cases that are near me.” You told them.

Dean shook his head while Sam’s mouth hung open.

“And another thing. How do I know if you are legit? You could be a ghoul or a shifter for all I know.”

Sam and Dean gave you a look but held out their arms for you to test. You looked around to make sure that no one was watching when you pulled out a small pocket knife made of silver and cut them both with it. When their skin didn’t sizzle you got out a flask that had a cross on the outside of it and poured it onto their skin. 

“Okay. Your turn.” Dean said.

You held out your arm and he did the same to you. When you were all satisfied you spoke. “Sorry I meant to do that earlier but I didn’t want you to think that I was trying to kill you or something.”

“We understand. It doesn’t hurt to be too careful.” Sam said with a smile.

Some time passed with silence.

“So what now?” You asked your brothers.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked

“Well I have two options. Option one is to take this bus ticket-” you pulled out the bus ticket you bought earlier “- or I could go with you guys.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other and had a silent conversation. 

“Look, I know that is a lot to ask of you guys. I mean your the infamous Winchester brothers who saved the world. You always have a world ending crisis on your plates and I get if this is too much. I can go on my way and if you like, we don’t have to talk to each other again. It’s your choice.”

They both looked at you like you were crazy.

“Would you quit hunting if you went on your own?” Dean asked

“No” You said

“Why not?” Sam asked

“Because you can’t just leave the hunting life. You can run and hide all you want but it will catch up to you. So I might as well embrace my future rather than fight it and get hurt.”

You had a point. Both Sam and Dean have tried to live normal lives but it didn’t work out and they didn’t want you to go through that pain that they went through. Although they didn’t want you to go through the pain of the hunting life, you had them to protect you. That much they knew.

After a while of thinking Dean stood up and Sam followed suit. They started to walk to the front of the diner. Dean turned around and said “You coming or not kid?”

A smile grew on your face. You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder while you threw some cash on the table and you walked towards your brothers.

Sam opened the back door of the impala for you and you slid in. Both brothers got in the front seat and Dean turned the key in the ignition which made the engine roar a beautiful sound. 

You pulled onto the highway that lead you down your new life and destiny.

The End

(Sorry if this sucked. It was my first story)

[cheri-translates]

Lighthouse (A translated one-shot)

I translated this masterpiece originally written by 白飞飞是我宝贝 on Weibo (with permission)

It’s rare to find a piece of writing that is so immersive and makes the deepest parts of your soul ache. I knew it’d be a tragedy if it isn’t accessible to anyone who doesn’t read Chinese T^T

I’ll be keeping the original writer updated on comments left on this work because she’s the one who deserves all the credit 💕

[1]

Morning sunlight filters in through the curtains and fall on my eyelids, leaving a reddish shadow. I frown slightly, struggling to open my eyes. 

Before me are grey curtains and white walls. The familiar yet foreign decor leave me unable to react. I turn over. 

My head feels like it's filled with water, and the pain sobers me up a little. 

I look at the grey-blue quilt, the grey-blue pillows, and the clean outershirt and T-shirt in the closet...

I shoot up from the bed, ignoring my severe headache. After a quick glance around my surroundings, I finally look down at myself - I’m still in the same outfit as yesterday. Other than it being slightly wrinkled from sleep, not a single button is loose.  

Even so... why am I in Gavin’s house?

I get up with some effort, pressing a hand to my head while the other is against the wall, supporting me as I walk out of the room. On the table sits a glass of soy milk, a glass of fresh milk, steam buns, but no Gavin. 

Sitting at the dining table, I stare dazedly at the warm milk in front of me.

Maybe my body isn’t fully conscious yet, or maybe yesterday’s hangover has left me a little numb. Today, I don’t feel the irritability and gloom that has been torturing me for almost half a month. 

--

Half a month ago, I broke up with Gavin. I initiated it. To my utmost surprise, he didn't refuse. He simply hesitated for a while, and said “okay” in a hoarse voice.

I take a sip of the milk, suddenly recalling the way a coquettish smile had hung on my lips when I was still with him. 

“Gavin, I want to drink the milk you’re holding. Is that okay?”

“It’s not that I dislike soy milk. I like both, so I want to drink it too.”

“But I can’t finish two cups by myself, and I simply enjoy... snatching. Food. From. The. Wolf.”

The tips of Gavin’s ears turn red. With one hand, he grabs me off his body and wraps my entire self into a hug. 

Since then, we would always have a cup of soy milk and a cup of milk for breakfast, with both cups placed in front of me.

He would always wait for me to finish my meal before helping himself to the “leftovers”. I would blush and watch as his thin lips casually stick to the cup where my traces still remain. An inexplicable sweetness would fill me, occupying the entire atrium of my heart. 

The sudden memories are overwhelming. The knuckles gripping the cup have gone white. After taking a deep breath, I feel the first sting in my heart. I resign myself to my fate, forcing my eyes shut, and let the delayed pain and torment swallow me up whole.

[2]

The phone rings, and I pick it up without checking who the caller is.

"This is Gavin."

In my trance, his classic greeting makes me think we are still together.

“Are you awake? If... you are, there’s breakfast on the table.”

"Why am I in your house?" 

My voice sounds strangely hoarse and terrible, like a broken bellow.

"You drank too much yesterday. Minor called me. Your doors and windows were shut, ahem, so...”

"Oh,” my voice is a little dry. “I see, thank you.”

We’re already adults, and even used to be lovers who were attached at the hip. Simply spending a night at his house doesn't warrant me to cause a scene.

What’s more, he is Gavin - the Gavin who has never made things difficult for others.

After finishing breakfast hastily, I tidy the table. I pretend not to see the matching teacups on cabinet. My eyes tremble slightly when they sweep past by the photos we took together. 

Before leaving, I walk to the shelf behind the door to retrieve the key out of sheer habit. When my finger touches the ginkgo leaf pendant, I shirk backwards. 

When I spot the two pairs of cotton slippers - one large and one small - in the shoe cabinet, I feel my heartstring finally snap, and I collapse against the wall. 

The memories in these details are truly terrifying. Donning a harmless appearance, they slowly tear down the defences I had constructed with great difficulty.

These two pairs of cotton slippers were purchased during our early days as a couple. I still remember that it was the first time I saw a sick Gavin. He was leaning against the wall of the hallway - just as I am doing now - his soft bangs covering his tired eyes. 

Trying a new menu in the kitchen, I suddenly feel a searing chest pressed against my back. His chin rests lazily in the crook of my neck, and the warm breath exhaled from his nose reddens my cheeks. 

"Gavin? Why are you back so early today?" I try to ignore my rapid heartbeat, and my speed of cutting the vegetables slows down significantly.

He rubs his head against my shoulder and responds in a muffled voice:

“Dizzy.”

Only then do I notice his abnormally high body temperature. After hastily washing my hands and wiping my apron twice, I place my hand on his forehead.  

He lowers his head obediently and lifts up his bangs, revealing delicate eyebrows. The amber eyes underneath are unnaturally moist, and remind me of a deer in a forest - pure and gentle.

“What happened? Why are you burning up so badly?”

I frown and pull him out of the kitchen, then press him onto the bed without giving him a chance to refuse. 

When I was sick as a child, my dad would always tuck me in tightly. Although it was very hot, I would feel much better after sweating it out. So I also tuck the white quilt around Gavin’s neck. He is very cooperative, but his bright eyes remain wide open and he stares at me without blinking.

"What are you looking at? Close your eyes and go to sleep!" I pretend to be angry. However, upon seeing the abnormal flush on his face and the obvious tiredness between his eyebrows, my heart softens. "Well, you should have a good rest if you’re sick. I'll cook some porridge for you. Take your medicine after eating it, okay?" 

My tone sounds as though I’m pacifying a child. After hearing this, a bright smile appears in his eyes. After a long time, he responds lazily with an “okay”.

But his actions are not as obedient as his words. While I’m busy cooking porridge, he walks out of the bedroom again and hugs me from behind without saying a word, like a huge koala.  

Clearly, a sick Gavin and a normal Gavin are two completely different people. For the first time, I realise that this man, who is unafraid of dying in a shower of bullets, can actually be coquettish to such a degree.

I shake his hand away angrily, but he responds by lifting me up and striding over to the sofa.  

"Gavin! What are you doing!" I instinctively want to pound on his shoulder, but when I think about how he’s still sick, I stop myself. The only thing I can do is raise my voice to sound agitated. 

He places me on the sofa, then leans against me lazily, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, breathing in the scent of my hair.  

"Can you keep me company?" The cold has made his voice deeper, as if a handful of sand has been sprinkled into his voice. "I feel terrible.”

With these few words, the anger that was about to flare vanishes. My heart softens and feels numb, as though there are ants crawling through it. 

“...okay, I'll stay with you." 

He falls asleep on my shoulder in under five minutes. He must have been really tired. I lay him down carefully on the sofa and pull a blanket over him.

At this moment, Gavin, who is more than 1.8 meters tall, is curled up on the sofa looking aggrieved and haggard. The blanket isn’t large enough to cover his feet, and I realise that he has been walking around barefoot.

Although the weather has begun to warm up during this time of year, it’s easy to fall sick between spring and summer. He once dragged me home because I didn’t wear a jacket. But when it comes to himself, he isn’t as meticulous. 

Treading quietly, I leave the house to buy food items from the supermarket downstairs. I also stop by the living area to pick out two pairs of slippers - one big and one small, one blue and one pink, with a wolf and a bunny printed on them. 

They feel soft and warm, and are very comfortable.  

When I reach home, I’m wrapped in a familiar embrace as soon as I open the door. I hear a voice filled with grievances from above my head.

“Where did you go? Why didn't you tell me?"

I break free from his embrace. Lowering my head, I see that he’s still barefoot.

"I went out to get groceries. I’ll make you porridge with preserved eggs and lean meat tonight." 

I kneel down, retrieve the newly bought slippers from the bag. Without looking up, I command:

“Lift your feet.”

Gavin puts them on obediently. I stand up and look at him. “How are they? Do they fit?”

His ears are ridiculously red. He blinks gently. 

“Are these for me?”

"Yes, my Mr Wolf." 

I reply casually, carrying the ingredients into the kitchen.  

Gavin finally settles down peacefully, sitting on the sofa obediently and waiting for my food. Most of the porridge that day ends up in his stomach. After taking the anti-fever medicine, he encases me in his arms and turns the lights off early.

His breathing is especially clear in the dark, and is tainted with scorching heat, ironing the back of my neck in a regular pattern. I can’t bear the numbness and move slightly, but the man behind me holds me even more tightly. I can’t fathom where this sick person derives his strength from. I can't break away at all.  

"Thank you for today," I hear him say suddenly, with a slightly hoarse voice that sounds particularly sultry in the quiet night. "I liked the preserved egg and lean meat porridge you made, I liked the slippers you gave me, and... ahem, anyway, thank you."

I chuckle, rolling over in his arms. I raise my head to meet his crystal-clear eyes in the dim night.

"No need to thank me, Mr Gavin. Because I like you the most."

[3]

When I awake from the memory, I hear the rattle of a key coming from outside the door. Feeling flustered, I have no idea where to put my hands and feet. In the next second, I meet the bright amber eyes from my memory once again.  

Holding a bag of vegetables in his hand, he stands quietly at the door, looking at me silently. When his eyes trail to the high heels on my feet, his brows furrow slightly. 

I bite my lip and break the awkward silence. "Thank you for yesterday. I won’t bother you further. Goodbye.”

I give him a nod. Before I can step outside, he blocks the way. 

Lifting my head, I look at him with a puzzled expression. His neck muscles are tense, and his lips are pressed into a line. The morning light falls on his handsome side profile, softening his sharp features.

"Your complexion looks bad. Rest for a while, and don't force yourself.”

Perhaps I have yet to sober up completely, because I find myself agreeing awkwardly. I change my shoes again and sit down on the sofa. Taking a deep breath, I try to ignore the faint pain from my temples.  

Gavin pours me a cup of hot water. I hold it in my palm and say mindlessly, "I didn't expect that I would be a guest here one day." 

Gavin pauses, and he says nothing.

After retrieving two tomatoes and a piece of tofu from the bag, he walks into the kitchen, which is pretty much a decorative piece to him. 

I arch my eyebrows in surprise. When I hear the stove turning on, I walk over with curiosity.

Gavin has his back towards me, surrounded by sliced ​​tomatoes and tofu, and a bowl of beaten eggs. At a glance, there are no eggshells in it. He flips through a booklet and follows the steps in it meticulously.

I probably guessed what he wanted to do. When he finally stretches out his hand to take the sugar, I stop him in the nick of time. "Gavin, that’s white sugar. The salt is over there. 

His stiffens, the tips of his ears turning redder than the tomatoes in the pot.

Once the soup is prepared, he ladles it into a bowl and brings it to me. 

"Drink a bowl. It’d help you sober up.” His voice is a little soft and obviously lacking in confidence. "I tried it just now... ahem, it's not bad...” 

I smile and take the egg drop soup from his hand. Stirring the soup with a spoon causes bright red tomatoes to bob around. The aroma of green onions instantly dispels the smell of alcohol stuffing my nose.

I take a sip. It really doesn’t taste bad. 

But I can’t understand why such a delicious soup makes me feel as though I’m drinking something bitter.

I stand at the door of the kitchen, taking slow sips. When I can almost see the bottom of the bowl, I force myself to laugh.

"Is this the former police officer who only knew takeaway food and instant noodles? This cooking is a great leap forward." 

The brightness in his eyes dims for a moment, and he responds with a hint of self-mockery. "I’m used to your cooking, so I can no longer eat takeaway food or instant noodles. The only thing I can do now is learn to make it myself.”

I’m left stunned, not expecting that he would say this. He turns back to the kitchen to wash the pots and bowls. I watch his tall figure in a daze, and am suddenly swept up into a whirlpool of memories. 

While heading to the supermarket, I turn my head to Gavin and ask him a question.

“Gavin, what do you like to eat?”

He responds with a faint smile. “Anything. As long as you make it, I will love it.”

I know Gavin always puts me first, and that I would get nowhere if I continued down this line of questioning. I simply change my approach.

“What do you usually eat then?”

After thinking about it carefully, he says, “STF doesn’t have a canteen. I usually eat at a restaurant outside, or have instant noodles. I'm not a picky eater, so it’s fine as long as I can fill my stomach.”

I know that he works hard, but I’m still a little angry at his living habits.

“Without me around, would you be eating instant noodles your entire life?”

When he sees me suddenly frowning, his tone gets slightly flustered.

“I...”

“Hmph, in order to punish you, I’ve decided that..." I reach out angrily and pick out a Chinese cabbage from the freezer. "You have to clear the entire plate tonight, and my boxed lunches in future! Eat well, sleep well, and take care of yourself. Do you understand!”

There is a smile in his amber eyes, and the corners of his mouth rise a little. In the end, he rubs my hair with some helplessness, and obediently says, "okay.” 

Bang.

The sound of the cabinet door closing shut pulls me back to reality. When I meet his eyes, I hurriedly conceal my dazed expression.

“Thank you. I just remembered that I still have things to do at the company, so I’ll make a move.”

I walk towards the entrance, slightly embarrassed. 

When I hear him call my name, I stop.

"Can we talk?”

I stand frozen in place, all the blood draining away the warmth from my heart. It isn’t until I’m surrounded by a broad embrace that I can eventually hear my heart beating again.

Gavin always liked hugging me from behind the most, hanging his head by the side of my ears, his soft sideburns on my face. I would hear his unhurried, gentle breathing.

Just like right now. My back leans against his hard chest, his body temperature wrapping me in a thin cloak. The arms on my waist are strong, and there’s a new scar on it.

The familiar heartache sweeps across me again, unbridled. Before I can react, I hear a breath near my ears.

"If Minor didn’t call me, would I have had no chance to see you again?"

[4] 

I ruminated over why Gavin and I broke up. It always came back to a cliche term - unsuitable.

I’m the boss of a small company, living a standard 9 to 5 life. Although I sometimes work overtime, my life has a fairly regular pattern.

Gavin is a special officer who has no fixed working hours. He runs off whenever there’s danger, and we often lose contact. The longest time we’ve been apart was for nearly a month, and the only communication we had spanned only ten minutes. Most of the time, I was asking, “Is there a signal? Can you hear me?”

But I never felt that our professional life was an obstacle in our love. On the contrary, it was precisely because of our intersecting schedules that I cherished the time with him even more. 

It's just...

When I learned that he had a vacation on the 520 during our early days together as a couple, I excitedly made a travel plan for an overnight stay at the beach.

There was a filming site of a movie that I particularly liked. I lay in his arms enthusiastically and described the reeds, the lighthouse, and the ocean where the first light of day could be seen. Gavin had smiled and listened to me, then dropped a kiss on my forehead.  

But when the time came, I went there alone. 

He had received an urgent task suddenly. After hesitating for a while, he wanted to call and decline. However, I held his phone and shook my head at him. "It's okay, go.”

Then, it was the first Qixi Festival we celebrated together. Gavin had specially adjusted his schedule to keep me company. That day, we walked through the ancient streets lined with lanterns while holding hands. We released a small paper boat by the river together. We also watched a sweet and romantic movie. He watched me smile, our fingers clasped together, warm and powerful.

But when I got up in the morning the very next day, I saw Gavin seated on the sofa with his head down. I whispered his name, and he raised his head to look at me. His eyes were moist and red, and his usually clear voice was hoarse. 

"The teammate who swapped shifts with me yesterday met with an accident during the mission... if it weren’t for me, he would have been fine now...”

I held his hand distressedly and comforted him. It wasn’t his fault. But when I saw the pain in his eyes, I knew that he would shoulder everything himself, and that he would carry on with this self-blame and guilt. 

After that, Gavin became more frequently tasked with missions, and became more frequently injured. In addition to distress, I also felt helpless.  

Then came the Spring Festival. He had accompanied me to my aunt’s house. He wasn’t very good with talking, and his body had unconcealed wounds. My aunt’s expression gradually morphed from enthusiasm to politeness. 

My aunt dragged me to the kitchen and asked me solemnly, in a low voice.

"What does he do? Special police? You know this kind of work is dangerous! Should you marry him in the future, what if... and I’m saying ‘what if’... what if something goes wrong? What would you do?”

I tightened my cuffs, took a deep breath, and said, "Aunt, no matter how dangerous his work is, or how dissatisfied you are with him, he is the person I’ve decided on, and I love him very much.”

My aunt frowned and looked at me. She sighed slowly. "Silly child, you’ll understand later on that the most important thing in marriage is not love, but suitability. Love is just one condiment in life, and life is a big dish. It needs the right dishes to match, supplemented by condiments, in order to have an excellent and delicious presentation."

“I’m not trying to nag at you. I just want you to think this through carefully. I know that Gavin is a good boy, and I can see how much he cares for you. But I can also see that you don’t look as happy as before. I just hope you young ones can live happily.”

After returning home that day, my aunt’s words continued echoing in my ears. I didn’t want to accept my somewhat shaky reality.

In countless nights without Gavin, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling in a daze. What flashed before my eyes were Gavin’s scars. He never took the initiative to tell me about his injuries, and never mentioned the danger of his missions. 

His solemn and stern eyes told me that every “I’m fine” from his lips had no credibility.

With time after time of heartaches and disappointments, I seemed to suddenly understand what my aunt said.

When he flips through the medicine cabinet in the living room again in the middle of the night, I walk out of the bedroom and turn the lights on with a “click”. 

At first, he’s surprised. Then, he starts panicking as he tries to hide the scar on his left shoulder. Without a word, I take out the hard iodine and gauze from the medicine box, carefully remove the his bloodstained clothes, and gently clean up the wound little by little. 

This time, the wound isn’t deep, but there is a lot of bleeding. I squat down in front of him, the hand holding the tweezers trembling slightly. In contrast, my words are calm. 

"Gavin. Do you know that if I were your teammate, I definitely wouldn't want to see you in this sorry state? It’s only when you take care of yourself that you can protect even more people.”

I throw the napkin away and wrap the gauze around his arm. His muscles are smooth and tight. Even though I’ve seen it so many times, it still gives me heart palpitations. 

"In the future, you have to protect yourself well, understand? Don't let the people who love you feel scared all day. This kind of torture is even more unbearable than physical injuries.”

I tie a neat knot, then sit beside him, hugging him gently. His amber eyes flicker, and within them are waves of pain and struggle.

"Gavin.”

I lean my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and memorising the warmth of his body.

"Let’s break up.”

[5]

I break free from Gavin’s embrace and leave his house in a hurry after leaving him with a sentence:

“Don't follow me.”

I run in a hurry, because I know that if I hesitate for a second longer, I will fall into his arms completely and become unable to extricate myself.

It's ridiculous.

Even though I keep reminding myself that we have already broken up, I still love his warmth.

The drinks were really worthless. If it weren't for this hangover, I wouldn’t have been so embarrassed, and I wouldn’t have been so easily defeated by mere memories and a hug.

I take a taxi and return home.

The moment I close the door, I finally remove all my forbearances. I throw myself onto the sofa and raise an arm to cover my eyes. Tears trickle down the corners of my eyes, silent and endless. 

[6] 

I must have been crazy to agree to Minor’s invitation to attend the high school reunion. When I see the tall figure walking into the banquet hall, my instinctive reaction is to flee. 

But standing next to me is an old friend. He’s chatting about the past enthusiastically, and I have no choice but to remain still and nod along in agreement.

Gavin’s appearance is akin to throwing a boulder on calm water, and the ripples caused by the waves spread through the entire banquet hall, including my heart.

Although he should have already spotted me, he doesn't talk to me. Instead, he sits two spaces away. His expression is cold and fierce, as though he has come to participate in a serious operation.

No one dared to approach him in high school, and this has remained true even now. To outsiders, he is a lone wolf - indifferent and arrogant, causing everyone to retreat from him. 

I used to see him in the same light, but everything that occurred later overthrew these myopic impressions. I discovered the softness and delicateness hiding under his hard shell.

“Hey, what's the matter with you? Why are you distracted all the time?" 

My old friend waves his hand in front of me, and I apologise with a bit of embarrassment.

After saying a few more words, he suddenly asks, "Do you have a boyfriend now?" 

Hearing this, I choke on my red wine. In the corner, Gavin seems to be frowning at me, his amber eyes bright and scorching, making me subconsciously want to escape.

I avert my eyes and shake my head. "No." 

He becomes a little more interested then, changing the topic from high school to the present.

"Let me tell you - I’m working at LFG now and have bought a car and paid the down payment for a house. Also, my parents don’t live with me, so if you’re...”

"Are you done?” A cold voice interrupts him. My heart trembles and I raise my head, only to see Gavin's cold glare. 

At this moment, nearly half of the eyes in the hall are focused on our conversation. Looking like he doesn’t care about anything, Gavin grabs my arm and pulls me out of the room. I can’t escape from his grasp, and feel frustrated by his inexplicable behaviour. 

He takes me to a small balcony outside the hall, then imprisons me between the wall and his chest. He looks down at me, brows furrowed deeply. There’s an unconcealed anger in his eyes. 

"What are you doing?” I question, unwilling to look at him directly.

The reply I get is a kiss that plunders everything.

His lips press against mine roughly, and his unique scent overwhelms me. There is a collision and friction between our lips and teeth, and there is pain. 

It’s an uncontrolled plunder and invasion. 

He doesn’t let me go until my last breath is violently swept away. I pant heavily, but he embraces me in the next second. 

This time, his embrace is gentle. 

It’s careful, as if he’s protecting a fragile glass flower. His heavy breath brushes my neck, mingling with his low and trembling voice.

"I'm sorry."

[7] 

I don’t deny that I lived a terrible life in the half month after separating from him.

I worked overtime every day, letting work fill all the gaps in my life. I didn’t give myself a chance to relax at all, because it only takes a second for pain and regret to gnaw away at me. 

Minor has been secretly reporting my life to Gavin. I knew that. But I never thought of stopping him, and a ridiculous expectation even started brimming in my heart. 

I wondered if there would be a night, when the lights of the city begin to fade, when he would appear in front of me as he used to. He would wrinkle his beautiful eyebrows and gently bring me into his arms. With a slight touch of reproach, he would ask resignedly, “Why are you working overtime again?”

I also wondered if he would push the office door open anxiously when I’m stricken with another stomach ailment, picking me up sideways without a word. The expression on his face back then was full of anger, but the stream of light in his eyes magnified his distress and tenderness infinitely.

I also wondered, when I have finished my work for the day and am leaning against the wall of the elevator and staring at the changing floors, whether I’d see him as soon as I open the door.

If he did show up, I would put everything down and leap into his arms, and tell him over and over again that I love him. 

But in the half month since our break up, he never appeared once. 

This city is so large that even if two people were once intimate, they may miss each other for a lifetime if they don’t stay in touch. 

So I started to waver again. Why did I live even more unhappily after listening to what my aunt said? 

Why is it that once the seasoning of love is no longer part of this big dish of life, the entire thing tastes like wax?

I don't understand - would I be happier finding someone I’m suitable with but do not love, or consume each other’s love and embrace the friction?

Deep down, I know that if I could abandon everything and make a choice, I would choose the latter without hesitation.  

At least, my life as of now tells me very clearly that the decision I made was wrong.

And this mistake has tortured the both of us beyond recognition.  

[8]

My back is extremely tense and feels like a fully stretched bow. 

The hands around my waist move slightly, and Gavin’s voice falls on my ears, drawing intense pain from my heart. 

With every breath, I can only smell the scent of his body and the sweet aroma of red wine from just now. 

Over his shoulders, I see the bright, brilliant, erosive, and prosperous city. Trapped inside are people all sentenced to life.  

I know that I’m one of them.

Without warning, tears trickle from the corners of my eyes, leaving streaks of cold water on my face.

In my increasingly fuzzy and hot vision, I see Gavin’s somewhat flustered expression. He gently wipes away my tears with his rough finger pads. 

Those eyes, full of anxiety, become the only lighthouse within reach.  

It seems that as long as I look at him, I will never lose my way.  

After a few small sobs, I rush into his arms without a care. I pull at the corners of his clothes and cry until his white T-shirt becomes damp.

He comforts me clumsily, his hands caressing my hair in exchange for the string of muffled "sorry"s flowing from my mouth.

[9] 

I called my aunt.

"Aunt, is suitability really that important in life?" 

"Silly child, suitability is very important. But more importantly, are you happy?"  

“What if I’m with someone who I’m not suitable with, but I feel happy?”

"Then he might be the most suitable person for you.”

[10] 

I stand at the door of the STF office, holding a boxed lunch and looking outside. 

An officer who recognises me greets me with a smile. "Is sister-in-law giving Gavin food again? Just go in and wait. The team is already on their way back. 

I smile and nod. “It doesn't matter. Waiting over here is the same thing.”

Another colleague pats him on the shoulder, as if laughing at his stupidity. "What would you know, you single loner? Sister-in-law wants to see Gavin sooner!" 

I blush, and suddenly see a familiar profile coming in through the door. 

The faint light of dusk outlines his wide shoulders and narrow waist, depicting his side profile clearly. Seeing me, the solemnity and coldness on his face melts into a pool of spring water.

"What are you doing here? Didn't I say you should wait for me at home?" 

He walks up to me and takes what’s in my hand, his tone brisk and clear. 

I crinkle my eyes and smile, saying, "I’m off work early today, and came over since I have nothing to do.” 

We walk all the way to his office. Opening the boxed lunch, he sees that it contains his favourite dishes. 

Gavin takes a whiff in a slightly exaggerated manner, then smiles. "Mm, smells good.”

I quickly hand him the chopsticks. He picks up a piece of beef and brings it into his mouth. After swallowing it, he lowers his eyes and smiles. "I get to eat the food you cook after my mission. I suddenly don't feel tired at all.”

I feel a twinge in my heart. I huff nonchalantly and respond. "If you like it, I’ll prepare and bring you boxed lunches in the future.” 

"No need." He reaches out and tousles my hair. "Be good and wait for me at home. Just knowing that you’re at home makes me feel very contented.”

After work, we walk home together hand in hand. The setting sun filters through the uneven skyline of the city, elongating our shadows.

The summer evening breeze carries the scent of camphor trees across my face, and the temperature of the day finally reveals a tired and lazy side. Dim light reaches the world through the clouds drifting in the sky, bringing a certain tenderness to this steely city.

"Gavin?" I turn my head to look at the man wearing a smile on his mouth, and happen to meet his clear eyes. 

"What's the matter?"

"Your birthday is coming soon. Are there any gifts you want?”

"Anyth-"

“You’re not allowed to say ‘anything’!" I interrupt him with a glare, giving his palm a forceful squeeze.

He smiles compromisingly, and his eyes seem to be filled with scattered gold. 

"Then teach me how to cook a meal. I hope one day in the future, you can return home from work and eat a meal I’ve prepared.”

I’m momentarily startled, and suddenly remember what my aunt said - 

"Then he might be the most suitable person for you.”

I have thought about this question of suitability many, many times. Just like the “unity of opposites” in philosophy, I simply can’t make sense of it. But no one has ever told me that this question doesn’t require thinking. The answer has always been in my heart, and the clues to finding the answer have been scattered throughout my life.

Even the most trivial things in life carries memories belonging only to us. And these small and plain memories will gather into a surging tide when you least expect it, washing away the dust covering the answer in one’s heart. 

Perhaps there has never been such a thing as “unsuitable” to begin with. This so-called “unsuitable” is just used by people looking for an excuse to part ways.

A breeze blows past, and ripples appear on the lake in my heart. When I look at him again, I suddenly feel light and happy both physically and mentally, and that nothing could come between the both of us.

With a big smile, I say, "Okay! I’ll leave the birthday party to you then, Mr Gavin.”

He chuckles softly, his bangs a little messy from the evening breeze. "I will learn properly, and won’t disappoint you.”  

The sunset finally sinks behind the tall buildings. Neon lights and vehicle headlights begin to flicker, and the dim yellow streetlights on the side of the road replace the sunset, continuing to illuminate the long road.

I know that he will hold my hand as we walk, step by step, slowly and steadily, along this path home. 

[poppyna]

the visitor ; anton&poppy

timing: earlier in may + last week participants: @poppyvernis & @grantcontrol​ summary: anton gets sent to the hospital. poppy gets a snack a meal plan. content warning: head trauma

In his less than stellar career as an exterminator, Anton was at least able to prove two things: One, he couldn’t dodge bullets, and two, he couldn’t dodge the ground. In retrospect, chasing an overgrown spider on someone else’s roof wasn’t the best idea, but at least it gave him enough time to consider his life choices, as flashes of previously, terribly made ones came running back to him, right before his very eyes, the fall itself peculiarly slow, as if it was intentionally taking an eternity to accommodate this Powerpoint presentation of numerous mistakes and regrets. Then the thud came, and everything else faded to black. 

The next thing he knew, he was coming in and out of consciousness, being wheeled through what smelled like a hospital, what sounded like an introvert’s worst nightmare. What he could see were mere blurs, almost incomprehensible and incoherent images fighting for his attention against the blinding lights of the ceiling. What he could hear were bits and pieces of rushed conversation, none of which he was interested in. 

A familiar voice did ring in his ears, barely making any sense to him, mostly because he was more concerned about the stuffed rabbit he just dropped as they were wheeling him away, his outstretched hand reaching for it but to no avail. “...oh, it’s the exterminator...what happened?” “...fell down a roof…chasing...dog...” “really?! ...well, that’s dumb.” Then the darkness returned, dragging him back into the depths of his own mind, where a haunting shadow patiently lurked. Hello, Anton. You have your mother’s eyes.

Gossip spread through the ER like wildfire, no matter how much the nurses liked to boast about having the perfect mask of professionalism with patients. The ones with strange reasons for ending up there were the hottest topics- at least for a few moments before someone else came with an even more inane reason. Poppy liked to pretend she wasn’t as interested as the rest of them, but even she wasn’t immune to the allure of knowing other people’s business. And the business, specifically, seemed to be an exterminator of some sort who was in over his head.

The reception area had a temporary lull in new faces, and it was her who was tasked with bringing the personal belongings over to the different private rooms. She expected bags of clothes, maybe a phone or two, but not a… child’s toy? The last thing she wanted to see was some sickly child. Those cases always left a bad taste in her mouth. Regardless, she donned a pair of gloves and set out to deliver the goods that had been left.

When she finally came to the room the note on the doll had mentioned, she realized two things very quickly. One, that the doll did not, in fact, belong to some sickly child, and two, that she definitely should not have stepped into that room. Poppy could almost feel the uneasy dream the man laying in the bed was slipping into from her position all the way by the door. She gulped. She definitely should have just asked someone else to do this job. She threw a quick glance behind her shoulder before she slid the door to the room closed with her hip. As she extended her hand to brush over the man’s forehead to enhance the unpleasant dream he had, she noted that this must be that exterminator the staff were all murmuring of. 

“Sorry,” she whispered to herself.

Anton has done his fair share of running. From debt collectors? Check. From adult responsibilities like being a good dad to a young daughter he’s barely met? Check. From bees? Check. The last part, he felt like he’d be doing for an eternity. Or at least until he got tired, which in this place, wherever it was, didn’t feel like it was happening any time soon. Where the hell am I? He wondered, at least for a bit, looking around him as grayish smoke and mist surrounded him, drowning this place as far as he could see. That was, until his attention was once again stolen by the giant bees that were apparently chasing him.

Anton. The voice spoke to him, not as sound in the air but seemingly from deep within, as if the speaker was someone, or something, that resided in his heart of hearts. You cannot run forever. Panting, wheezing, though not actually feeling tired, if only afraid, fearful for what could happen should his feet, knees, fail him, the exterminator continued to run, looking back every now and then to find the giant bees still after him, never speeding up nor slowing down. 

Then he spotted something strange, something new, a face, unfamiliar and out of place, from within the swarming rabble. Sorry, she whispered to him, not as sound in the air but from deep within, only confusing him even more. Who the— He cut himself off as he turned away, colliding straight into something else, something strong enough to knock him back, down on his ass on the ground. Wincing, Anton took his sweet time making sure he was still in one piece before he looked up and saw the man in the beekeeper’s suit, his arms already reaching towards him. I’m already home!

On his bed in the hospital, his physical body twitched and turned, his lips moving, though rare were the words that came out ever coherent. Although the fear was great, his guilt would never come second, and under three words, Anton’s lips moved ever so slightly to allow them a strange passage. “It’s okay…”

Poppy’s brow furrowed for a moment as the visions he saw danced through her mind. What the hell kind of fears did this man have?  She wasn’t creating anything for him to experience- no, this was a nightmare birthed from his own personal hell. If the rush of energy she felt from how terrified some guy and his insects made him feel- she probably would have cared more about that. She rolled her neck and shoulders slowly, head tilting from one side to the other. It felt like a massage to her very core that no physical touch could satisfy. There was nothing better than this feeling, and for a brief second she considered taking it all in that very moment. She wouldn’t need to feed again for quite some time. 

The words that left his mouth snapped her back to reality. She opened her eyes and stared down at him. For a moment, she panicked. Was he awake? What the hell? That had never happened before. Poppy considered her own thoughts that she felt while feeding and bit her lip. The high, warm feeling in her stomach began to fall, leaving her blood buzzing through her veins as though she had just run a race while her heart sat thick in her throat. That’s the monster she pretended she wasn’t. She didn’t even know the poor guy who she just tormented and there she was considering adding a second notch onto her ledger. Fuck.

She retracted her hand slowly, knowing she shouldn’t let it idle on his head for too long. Poppy felt compelled to flee, but there were too many nurses out in the hallways for a fast walk to go unnoticed. The sun had yet to fully set, she couldn’t go intangible and leave, and even if she could the cameras would pick up a door opening and closing on its own, and- and-

Her hold on the stuffed toy in her other hand tightened and she resolved herself to take it face on. Poppy looked behind her, just to check and make sure no other nurse had crept inside while the whole ordeal was unfolding, then took a few steps back. She glided her hand down her face and combed her fingers through her hair, at least trying to make herself look as thought she was a normal human nurse just concerned for a regular patient. 

The Beekeeper was a story Anton’s late grandfather told him and the rest of his cousins whenever they had become too naughty, too rowdy, for the other grown-ups to contain, to rein in. It was a tale of warning, of fear, the title character the appropriate Boogeyman for their family’s line of work. Yet as the years went by, as Anton found himself drifting farther and farther away from his own family, the Beekeeper became more of an afterthought to him, a forgotten string of words from a bygone era, nothing more than the whispers of a past he can never go back to. That was, until he returned to White Crest.

It wasn’t like he was forced to return, however, as his former life in California wasn’t all rainbows and butterflies. He had made mistakes, so many, and though he wouldn’t admit to regretting much, there were major milestones in his life that he dared wish had happened differently. Thus, the move was a welcomed respite from the dark clouds that hung over his head through the years, only to be replaced by darker ones once he arrived in this sleepy town. At the very least, he had inherited the pest control business as well as a better place of residence when that grandfather of his died.

“Am I dead?” The words slithered weakly out of Anton’s lips as his dark brown eyes wandered slowly towards the other person’s very form. Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous. It was a weird first thought, considering the nightmare he had just survived, the fall he had taken. One would assume he’d be more interested in figuring out what had happened, how he got there, yadda yadda yadda. Then again, the exterminator has survived far worse and has taken more dangerous beatings. It seemed that the gates of hell were closed to his soul yet again. “Are you an angel? I’ll go wherever you’d take me.”

It took him more effort than he was used to, but he was able to muster a warm smile, the so-called stone meant to hit two birds: the nurse, as a sign of gratitude for keeping his unconscious body company, and himself, as a distraction from the horrors that he had just escaped from. Groaning, he moved his body around, at least as much as he could, still tired and barely recovered from the fall. When he found a comfortable enough spot, a position that made the rest of him ease a little, he turned to her again, his eyes not wanting to leave her face, his smile unable to falter. There was something about her that drew him like a moth to a flame, a vision of beauty and salvation. Shame that Anton had no idea how that allusion was more dangerous than he could ever understand. 

She blinked. The more conscious he became and the more words that left his mouth, the less Poppy was able to compute what was happening right before her. Her mouth moved to form the first syllables of ‘are you crazy?’, but she stopped herself before she broke whatever illusion had overtaken the man in front of him. This was definitely… different. She was used to crying, used to screaming, even used to people waking up in anger over having vivid terrors ruin their night of sleep. Not once had she gotten a complement. If she could even call a hospitalized man spouting words a compliment.

When more than a handful of seconds of silence passed between them, she blinked and cleared her throat. “Ah... no. Not at all,” she started, rocking back on her heels, “you’re not dead. So… I am not an angel.” A soft chuckle escaped her while her head gestured to the side, trying to point out the walls and machinery of the dimly lit room in an attempt to maybe bring him out of this stupor. (Yet again, she had to hold herself back from saying anything out of turn. There was a reason she wasn’t the one who did courtesy rounds with patients). This had to be a concussion of some sort, a fairly nasty one. That thought stung a bit. Having to wonder if she had just fed from someone with a concussion worthy of putting a professional athlete out of commission was a new low. But upon closer observation, he appeared… “fine” seeing as he just fell off a roof. Well, fine in Poppy’s books. Which had considerably low standards for what humans needed to be “fine”. 

Regardless, Poppy forced herself to put on a mask of kind professionalism, looking back at him with a gentle smile though she made it a point to stare at his ear instead of into his eyes. “Don’t try to move too much- okay? You’re in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?” She lifted the stuffed animal she held and waved it a bit once it was in his line of vision. “Does this help? It seems to belong to you.”

 The smile never faltered on Anton’s lips as he continued to look her over, perhaps even seeing her for the first time. “I beg to differ.” The words slipped out without his consent, though hearing them now, he wouldn’t have even bothered to rein them back if given the chance. He didn’t believe in angels, not as much as he believed in annoying insect monsters that could kill him, that most likely killed his grandfather, but seeing her heavenly face, all that cuteness and innocence, he could definitely see himself becoming a believer.

Slowly, his dark brown eyes wandered around them at her behest, though they didn’t stray long. She had a magnetic presence over him, one he could not seem to ignore. Or at least look away from for far too long, which wasn’t really that long. A part of him feared that she was just a mirage, an illusion, and if he didn’t keep his eyes on her, she would disappear, something he hoped the man in the beekeeper suit was instead. “Oh, hey, Mister Snuffleupagus Von Der Beek!”

His instincts told him to reach out for the stuffed animal, which his body followed and regretted immediately. He didn’t even get to move an inch, his shoulder quickly punishing him for overextending them. “Fuck.” Wincing, he tried to move it around, feeling the pain, before realizing he just swore in front of a goddess. Eyes wide in horror, they found her again, and despite the brief moment of silence, he tried to cover for himself with a warm smile. “Sorry… My shoulder… Pain… You know how it is.”

Anton nodded towards the stuffed animal as he explained further. “That’s the, uhh, favorite toy of my client’s three-year-old. Some overgrown spider tried to grab it and run, but I managed to chase it away and keep the toy but, well, you know… Fall from grace.” He let out an awkward chuckle, not sure if the truth made him look any worse. Couldn’t be any worse than the exterminator who fell off a roof. “I’m Anton, by the way. Anton Grant.” He offered her a hand to shake and winced when even that small attempt made his body hurt. Fucking hell.

While he spoke, Poppy let herself trail over to the hub of machinery at the top of his bed. Her eyebrow quirked at his remark, but other than that, she forced herself not to give any other reaction. Despite the night terrors he just experienced, she could barely feel the residual traces of fear that still clung onto him. All of it had seemingly vanished when he became conscious once more. She hoped that meant that his suspicion for what had caused it was low, too. Though, based on the way he was acting, she was fairly certain there was little for her to worry about in that regard. 

She let herself relax somewhat at that thought, though jumped slightly when the man began to move, caught off guard by his sudden urge to get up. “Ah,” she started, reaching forward with her free hand before pausing, letting it hover a few inches away from him. “Your injuries aren’t horrible, but you still need to lay down. If you try to move too much you might make it worse. And that’ll make your bill worse, too.” A stern look crossed her face for a moment. One that read ‘I mean it, don’t fucking try it’.

Poppy shook her head gently and set the doll down next to his thigh, her hands coming to a rest atop the side railings of the bed. A giant spider? She thought back to his nightmare. Well, if what she had gathered from that was correct and he had experienced some kind of bizarre beekeeper who was out for blood, then the spider story should track. A quiet huff escaped her lips as the corners quirked up. “I don’t… know if I should assume that’s real or fake,” she replied, her voice low with amusement, “but if it is, then… that’s. A nice thing to do. Getting a kid’s doll back.” 

“I’m not your nurse, but… I’m Poppy,” she paused when he attempted to move once more. She used the back of her hand to gently push his down until it laid on the bed once more. “I’m serious about the no moving thing, Mr. Grant.”

Anton has had horrible and worse, numerous times, throughout not just his respective careers as an exterminator and pest hunter but also his everyday life, most of which he will always regret. Her mention of a worsened bill, however, scared him the most, and with a gulp, he resolved to heed the warning, knowing full well his finances were much scarier to deal with than a trio of beeserkers. That look on her face is pretty cute, though. 

His eyes widened in a mixture of horror and excitement as she approached his thigh, though it was immediately replaced with a relieved expression and then disappointment when the doll landed instead of what his crass mind had imagined. Although he was somewhat glad that Mr. Snuffleupagus Von Der Beek was safe and within reach, his thighs craved the touch of something else, someone else. Even in the aftermath of brutality, Anton was still but a boy, hungry for fantastical companionship.

“Oh, it’s real!” He said, almost too excitedly, dark brown eyes beaming with misguided pride. “I really fell down. You see the small rip on Mr. Snuffleupagus Von Der Beek’s right ear?” He winced as he momentarily forgot about all the pain, mostly due to his desire to impress her, and pointing at the spot, straining his arm yet again. His smile only grew wider when she complimented him, as he’s never heard an actual compliment since he came to White Crest, certainly not after he’s been paid at least.

“Poppy?” He mouthed her name over and over again after the word already slipped through his lips, her touch surprising him but in a very good way. He could feel his heart beat race again, her warmth and her scent magnified by his childlike crush. “It’s a pretty name. Perfect for a pretty girl.” He offered her his most charming of smiles, his heart beat rising when she mentioned his name. “Please. Call me Anton.” He tried to distract himself from the loud vibration inside his chest by furthering the conversation. “Is there a way I can choose you to be my nurse? Like a form I can sign or something? I’ll probably need to stay longer now. I’m so hurt, Poppy.”

A quiet hum reverberated from her lips. This definitely was not the first time a patient had acted head over heels for a nurse. And Poppy was sure it wouldn’t be the last, but at least this guy- Anton wasn’t some creepy old man. Just a concussed guy. Who thought she was pretty, it would seem. Her eyebrow raised once more and she stared at him. She’d never encountered someone who acted quite like this before. Even among the strangest of individuals who ended up in the back of the ER.

An idea popped into her head then. Oh. Hey now.  She could make use of an infatuation like this, couldn’t she? The softer voice in Poppy’s consciousness tried to remind her that this was definitely a breach of the Hippocratic oath, but she wasn’t a doctor. She wasn’t even human. Yes, she was pretty certain that oath didn’t account for creatures like her. Who was she to deny free food when presented to her?

“I assume you’ll be kept overnight for observation unless the doctor sees you now,” she said, more to herself than as a response to him. She then let a soft, long sigh leave her lips. “If I transfer to your nurse, would you quit trying to move?” Poppy glanced over to him with that same look, though it was less serious and more teasing than before. She may not have all the schooling that the RGNs had, but she had the same nursing certificate nonetheless. It probably wouldn’t even take much convincing to get whoever was actually assigned to him to let her take over. They’d probably let her take all the patients if it meant getting to sit quietly at the front desk like she did.

“Poppy, I would quit everything for you.” Anton quipped, though part of him was certain that it was true, that he’d actually risk his entire life, change everything including himself for her, for a muse that he could serve. The other part? He’s been there before, a long time ago, and it didn’t end well. He did get a cute kid out of the deal, but she was taken from him, too. Probably best for everyone involved back then. He was, after all, at a terrible place in his life. 

These days, he has most things under control. He had a stable source of income, he wasn’t too bored that he’d do less than legal things for the sheer fun of it all, then a rebellion against his family and everything else, and most importantly, he had a pretty big house all to himself. If he played his cards right, he may find a very attractive, very nurturing nurse roommate. He and the boggarts at Grant Residence.

“Where do I sign? Do I even need to sign anything?” Anton wasn’t quite well-versed with all these medical proceedings. For a long while, he’s been able to skirt out of its way, mostly with help from old acquaintances, accomplices, and his earlier almost rendezvous with death in White Crest introduced him to who both seemed like old acquaintances of his grandfather, Doctor Adams and Detective Lee, the oddest couple he’s ever met. Oh, maybe he’s here! “Oh, by the way, do you know a Doctor Adams here? Weird British guy, has glasses… I actually forgot his first name.” He chuckled, even as pain still lingered within parts of him, dark brown eyes extremely happy at the sight of Poppy.

  “Uh-huh,” Poppy drawled out slowly, her head bobbing once in some semblance of a nod. She briefly wondered if this… infatuation of his was more of a passing side-effect of his concussion rather than anything else. Even so, Anton had definitely made himself out to be an unforgettable person. 

Strange or not, a meal was a meal. “Well,” she looked out toward the door to the room for a moment, then back to him. “I’ll have to go poke my head around and see who’s assigned to your room.”  Her face pinched in concentration. “You won’t have to sign anything, don’t worry, Mr. Grant.”  At his question, her expression softened back to one of neutrality. Doctor Adams, huh? 

“Is… unless he frequents the ER here, I probably don’t. Lots of doctors in the world, you know.” She rolled her eyes half-heartedly, his words sparking a memory of self-righteous doctors that  would sometimes be called down to the ER and throw fits at the state of things. “Alright, I’ll go… run and sort this out. Do you need anything before I go?” She paused. “That, ahem, isn’t me.”

With the devotion of a high schooler suffering a huge crush on his classmate, Anton listened to her intently, a wide grin on his face. Concussion or not, at this moment in time, Poppy was the best thing that’s ever happened to him. The second best was probably waking up from that nightmarish hellscape he found himself in while unconscious, but it was probably just a one-off thing. He’s had the same nightmares before, and although they were never that intense, he did fall off a roof this time, so his brain, as much as it could while working in terrible condition, justified that as a good enough reason. 

“It’s fine. I’ll sign anything you want me to sign.” The words slithered out of his mouth without any thought, none at all. If Anton had been dragged to a network marketing scheme instead of finding his way to the hospital, he’d probably have lost all of his money as soon as he woke up. Thank god for his client, such a kind-natured soul who was probably more worried about cleaning his corpse off her lawn than his actual health. Eh, good enough for me. 

“Yeah, of course!” He laughed at what he perceived to be her quip, already forgetting his question about Doctor Adams. “What isn’t you?” Again, his subconscious tried to help him out, but Anton was presently not 100% whole. A part of him tried to make sense of what was going on, what had happened, but that part wasn’t as strong as the other part of him that catered to his sad, pathetic craving for her companionship. “I’m fine, Poppy. Not as fine as you, but I’m fine.” He grinned, even though his body was obviously not fine, not yet anyway, pain still lingering in his bones and joints. 

As soon as she leaves, however, he mutters to himself, an unnecessary assurance to his own misguided feelings, his still blurry perception of the things happening around him, all while he watched her go. “Oh, yeah. She’s definitely into me.” She was, of course, not that into him, but he needed to believe that lie. At least for now, he felt hope, not as just another lie to trick himself into carrying on but as a warm dream he can aspire to. At least for a couple of days, maybe even weeks. Anton’s romantic relationships never end well, after all.

In the days that follow.

It wasn’t every day that Poppy put a bit of effort into her appearance on a day she went to work. In fact, it was never. Except for maybe the very first week she had landed the job. The long hours and constant moving around and sweating meant that makeup was not the best of ideas. Especially at seven in the morning. But she had been planning for the specific day a certain patient was to be released.  She’d spent much of the time that Anton had been spending in hospital care thinking about what to do. Never before had anyone she’d ever fed on been so… completely unaffected by what she did to them. Not only that, but it was as if the man had been slapped by some cupid’s curse.

Whatever the case might have been, Poppy decided that it would be best to make use of it. These types of things happened for a reason, didn’t they? She told herself such while she put that bit of effort into her appearance. Her hair was pulled back nice, her eyes lined with a gentle wing of brown eyeliner, and her cheeks had a faint dusting of orange blush. Just enough to make her look like she was definitely not a nightmare demon in some human skin.

She walked down the long corridor of the hospital wing and came to a stop outside the door to Anton’s room. Poppy inhaled quietly, then knocked on the wood with the back of her hand. “Mr. Grant?” She asked, opening the door a inch to make sure he was awake, then more so once she saw him. “Good morning. I think I have something you might be interested in.” She raised her hand and waved a stack of papers for a moment. His discharge papers. Fresh and ready to be signed by the doctor.

For the entire duration of his stay, which was like just a couple of days anyway, Anton found the entire thing quite nice. Sure, he’s been having a couple of nightmares here and there, waking up more tired than he expected, but it was probably just the side effect of that fall. Besides, he finally had an excuse to take a day off, and though it probably sets BUG BUSTERS PEST CONTROL SOLUTIONS back for like a few dollars, it wasn’t that heavy of a price to pay. 

Anton could technically take a day off every now and then, but he never did, always consumed by the nagging feeling of guilt and the dread of  disappointing his already dead grandfather. So far, however, the Girl’s text messages, meant to update him on the daily goings-on at the office, were mostly boring “oks” and “someone called but i referred them elsewhere”. If he had known things would be this chill, he would’ve taken a day off a long time ago.

Aside from loafing around in his hospital bed, Anton filled much of his time and attention with the love of his life, his nurse Poppy. Thanks to his concussion, which was a weird thing to be thankful for, the exterminator believed he had finally found his muse. His past relationships all ended terribly for one reason or another, but he had high hopes Poppy would be a different case. If he only knew. 

“Poppy? Please, call me Anton.” He reminded her again, for the nth time, though he didn’t really keep count and consciously didn’t actually mind. The words just felt like the right reply for her calling her future boyfriend Mister. “Good morning!” He greeted her with as much excitement as he could muster, eager to spend another day with her, only to get deflated when his dark brown eyes found out what the papers were. 

“I’m being discharged?!” He turned to her with sadness and despair, as if he was betrayed, rejected, by the girl of his nightmares dreams. How could Poppy do this to me?! “Uhh… There must be some mistake? I still feel, uhm, bad?” Scrambling towards her, he threw off his sheets, grabbing her hands in desperation. “No, Poppy, I’m still in pain... Please. I need you… To take care of me.” He whined. Like a child.

Bingo.

Poppy rolled her eyes playfully and snorted quietly. By that point, she had grown used to Anton’s antics. For the most part, at least. “You say as much, but your doctor says something completely different. Apart from the, uh, bouts of night terrors?” She paused there, sparing a moment to look up at him with some faux-concern. Mostly faux-concern. Seeing the side effects of her noshing still twisted her stomach from time to time, but there was nothing she could really do about that in the end, was there? She still needed to eat. A gentle nudge and she wiggled her hands out of his grip.

“Aside from that, you’re back to being in perfect health.” With that, she set the folder she held down on the rolling table beside his bed. Poppy looked at him with eyes that were both teasing and pitying. “This is a normal part of being in a hospital, you know. You do have to leave at some point.” She tapped a painted nail on the top of the folder twice. 

“It isn’t like I’m going to magically disappear after you leave. I still exist, you know. Is there something I can do to ease the pain of this discharge?”

“Oh, yeah… The night terrors…” Anton simply shrugged. He didn’t really want to talk about them, afraid to unearth a childhood trauma that he may not be yet ready to come face-to-face with. As much as the Beekeeper was but a story his late grandfather used to tell his grandchildren whenever they’d misbehaved too much, the exterminator has seen and experienced otherwise, a part of him certain that there was more to the tale than he was told. With a smile, however, he eased her concern, not wanting to burden the love of his life with his inglorious fears. “Just a side effect of the fall, I think? Nothing to worry about!”

Yet he could not stave off the disappointment and sadness he felt at the idea that this was it, this was the part where they’d, well, part ways, him and Poppy, forever no more. Anton felt his heart wrench, a stinking feeling in the deepest pits of his stomach that almost sent him in a panic. This was the best he’s felt in weeks, months, and now it seems over. Back to lonely nights in his late grandfather’s massive house then. Maybe he should really put that guest room up for rent. “Do I have to?” 

There was nothing normal about him, that much he understood. Certainly, the adjective perfect was rarely used to reference Anton. Poppy was right, however: All things must come to an end, even the good ones, especially the good ones. Life is nothing else but suffering, sometimes tolerable, most of the time annoying as fuck. Still, she offered him hope, and like trout to a lure, he could not ignore it. Forlorn, his dark brown eyes wandered back to her, and he mustered a weak smile. 

“Promise? I mean, I guess it’ll be a little less painful if you, like, I don’t know, keep in touch? By, uhm, giving me your number? There’s, like, a really good restaurant at the docks. Dinner sounds like the least I can do to thank you for keeping me healthy.” 

Poppy smiled. 

She put a finger to her lips, as if to tell him not to tell anyone else. Without saying anything, she pulled a pad of sticky notes and a pen from the pockets of her scrubs. If Anton was anyone else, she would have worried that they might wonder why she precariously had such things in her pocket, but she had learned that by that point, he didn’t seem to care about much other than looking right at her. For a moment she wondered what his reaction would be if he ever figured out what she was. This little façade couldn’t go on forever- at least. For her, time had proven that everything nice would have to end at some point. Would he still be as awestruck if he knew? Or would he finally come back to his senses?

A thought popped in her head. Had she ever cared so much about what a human really thought of her? Really? 

When she glanced up and saw the genuine gleam of desperation in Anton’s eyes, Poppy decided not to worry about it. Whatever he wanted out of her, she could play along. No one else was being hurt- clearly he wasn’t as affected as other humans would have been. As she carefully wrote down the digits to her number, adding a small smiley face at the end, just for the appeal, she spoke: “As long as it doesn’t entail you chasing after some sort of gigantic bug and getting another concussion.” She peeled the note off the pad and flattened it down on the cover of the folder, the ink on the face smearing just-so. 

Poppy took a few steps back and smiled. “Another nurse will stop-by in a bit with some more for you to sign. And then you’ll be a free man once more.”

Anton nodded fervently, dark brown eyes wide in delight as they found themselves glued on the tiny piece of paper that contained Poppy’s number, that he held as tightly as he could, as if he was afraid it would vanish very soon. Committing her contact information to his memory, the exterminator couldn’t hide his triumphant joy, chuckling at her quip. It would be dishonest to not admit that he had thought about doing the same thing again, suffering the fall and the nightmares as an excuse for him to be near her once more, in the same room as the angelic face who woke him up from his nightmare. Her phone number was a safer compromise, though. 

“Thank you. Again. You have no idea how much this means to me, Poppy.” He didn’t either. Not really. Especially all things considered. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

That was the last he saw of her. At least at the time. When he was told to leave, the exterminator unfortunately couldn’t get a hold of the nurse that had a warm grip on his heart. Anton wanted to wait and see her, bid her goodbye at the very least, but she was apparently busy elsewhere and some security guard was being rude, watching him like a hawk does a mouse. With her parting gift, however, he knew it wouldn’t be long until they crossed paths again. Or at least until he’d hear her voice again. Maybe, if she was too busy to have dinner with him tonight, he would at least see her in his dreams. The thought made him smile as he finally made his way out of the hospital, breathing in the fresh air made even better by the memory of his muse.

In fields of poppy,         buzzes this little bee.

[pyrrhicwildfire]

※DO NOT REPOST / HOST MY WORK ON OTHER APPS OR SITES

inspiration

It had been the work of godly timing, quick-thinking, and some inordinately opportune weather.

It seemed too much like happenstance to even be real, yet it was, and perception was an easily influenced thing when faced with the beautiful, the destructive, the heroic.

There had been a dozen or so villains, all strong with a variety of powerful quirks in their arsenal. The center of the street had already been crushed to bits, cars thrown to the wayside with injured civilians struggling inside, some sidewalk civilians screaming as some lucky bastards narrowly avoided the thrown cars, while some other unfortunate souls cried their hearts out as they were half-crushed by the debris.

They felt helpless, as people often did in the face of power.

Then:

“Lobes, be on the look-out for civilians buried under the debris!”

“Got it!”

People watched, wide-eyed, as pro hero Ground Zero burst into the fray, a team of heroes behind him as he flew his way forward.

“Six Arms, Soy Sauce Face— get to rescuing the extras!”

“We have names, but got it!”

They watched with shock-frozen bodies as Ground Zero stopped his explosions to perch atop a tall, ripped open portion of the street. He looked like a wild animal with how he postured himself into a crouch, hands between his folded legs, until he stood up and yelled:

“Listen up, extras!”

Extras? 

Are we being called mob characters?!

Ground Zero donned a feral grin when they shot their glares his way. He said, “Hah, got a problem with being called extras? Then get your asses moving if you can and go!”

“Huh?”

“What? What’s he talking about?”

Ground Zero bellowed, “The cowards who can walk should start running, we don’t have time for deadweight!”

“Deadweight— we’re stuck!” cried a furious mother, banging her hand on the door of their half-crushed car, sitting just a few feet away from where Ground Zero stood. “How dare..!”

Bang.

The once-crying mother halted in her tears as she watched her teary-eyed, determined child kicking open the car door she’d blown a hole out of. Her sweet kid, who’s never once used her powerful quirk after she realized how strong it was, smiled wanly at her. “I’m sorry about the car, mom,” her child said, laughing through her tears, “but I think you can forgive me since Ground Zero’s right; we need to get going!”

“Honey—”

“We’re not waiting for heroes to break us out of here, mom,” she said, before pulling her mother out of the driver’s seat. “Come on!”

A mass exodus happened on the streets as Ground Zero started to fly again, bursts of explosion left in his wake as he made his way forward.

No one could quite make out how it happened, busy as they were with escaping. There were rumbles of the earth, a mess of screams (sounding vaguely like “he’s just one hero, you idiots!”, “don’t let him go!”, and “we can take him!”), and shrieks of lightning and thunder that they couldn’t quite place if they were real, or quirk-made.

Then,

“Eat this, you bastards!”

Boom.

Viewers from the safety of their homes watched in awe as Ground Zero wiped out half of the villains that had terrorized the streets with no prior warning. The distance of the cameraman made it so that they only captured the more obvious details of the fight— the fact that there were still a couple of villains left standing, and that Ground Zero was fighting on his own.

Yet he didn’t even look like he was struggling. Ground Zero stood tall, proud, mask falling off of his face presumably because it had been damaged by a villain. There was only one gauntlet on him where before there had been two, and there was some obvious blood on his arms, though none of those things made him look even an inch tired. That one moment of stillness was the last thing the viewers were able to see before he took off again, no hesitation in his movements as he shot concentrated bursts of his explosions—

right before being swallowed up by a large body of water.

“Ground Zero!”

“No!”

Children cried as they gripped onto their parents’ arms. “He’ll be okay, he’ll be okay, won’t he? Dad!” they wept, pointing shaky fingers at their TV screens.

“Dear, we shouldn’t let them see this—”

Bang.

There was a loud splash as Ground Zero exploded his way out of the water that had caged him in, before another loud explosion resounded its way through multiple TV screens as he knocked out the villain that had caught him in his watery grasp.

“Ground Zero!”

Parents breathed out a sigh of relief as their children pumped their fists in the air.

“We’re not done!” a villain screamed, before heaving a breath and putting their hands to the air.

“Ponytail!”

Crackle. Bang.

Flashes of lightning broke through the air, filling TV screens with white until it died down, revealing a blur of movement, a sudden scream, before another booming explosion breached the abrupt silence that followed after.

A feminine voice broke through the torrential rain. 

“Surprise!”

More screams filled the air as bullets accompanied the falling rain, hailing down at a speed that was sure to be painful despite being non-lethal.

“Took you long enough, Raccoon Eyes!” Ground Zero yelled. To his right stood Creati, a big insulation sheet resting folded in her arms.

Pinky, who was floating down to the ground after her hail of acid bullets, yelled back, “The hero name’s Pinky, damn it! And Uravity and I had to catch up to your speed, y’know!”

“Be faster!”

“You’re unreasonable!”

“You heroes—”

The children watching from their TV screens cried out when they saw one villain left standing, slowly raising his hand and making the ground shake around them.

Then,

Thwack.

The villain fell to the floor, knocked out cold, Uravity standing behind her with a piece of floating debris attached by a string to her gauntlet. “I think we got them all!” she said, before she released the debris from her quirk to fall with a loud crack and thunk to the ground.

“The others?” Ground Zero asked, looking over to Creati.

“They’ve been bound, I’ll just be needing some help in getting them down,” Creati said, nodding her head to the heap of villains she’d made short work of. Most of them were knocked out, though there were a few who looked half-conscious and furious. “Uravity?” Creati asked, an implicit request for assistance.

“Got it!”

“You bastards,” one bound villain spat out, expression stormy as he was floated to a stand by Uravity. “You mock the rest of us with your privilege, flaunting your use of dangerous quirks just because you’re backed and allowed by the government! We’re no different from you, no less human than you, yet we’re called villains just for fighting back, retaliating against the abuse thrown at us! You—!”

“Then call them out, dumbass,” Ground Zero said, voice caught clearly by the drone that had lowered itself to record them from up close. “It doesn’t make you any less of a villain, but who said I sided with the idiots who hurt you?”

“What?”

The viewers were silent in their homes, stock-still at the words Ground Zero spoke.

“The assholes who abused you are just as much villains as you,” Ground Zero said simply, not minding the way Pinky was waving a furious hand in an obvious gesture at the camera flying behind above him. “I might not know what kind of shithole life you have, but that’s no excuse to throw a damn tantrum. You said you’re human, then act like it.”

“Y-you can only talk like that because you don’t understand!”

“Ground Zero,” Creati murmured, looking concerned as she eyed him and the villains who were rousing from unconsciousness.

“Then make me understand with words, dumbass!” Ground Zero snapped back. The villains were uncowed, though they seemed a little less feral in their aggression as they did seem confused. Ground Zero went on, “You’re not a rabid dog! If you have a problem with the government, then do something about it that will fix shit! You whine and lash out like brats, but the shit you do never even touches the government you say you hate!”

“Er, that’s,” Pinky murmured, looking panicky as she stepped closer to Uravity. “Should we be letting him talk like that for so long..?”

“Ground Zero kind of has a point,” Uravity murmured back.

“If you say you’ll understand,” another villain, the one who’d summoned lightning and thunder from the sky, spoke. “Does that mean you’ll listen? Really listen?”

The drone moved to catch Ground Zero’s deadpan expression on camera. “Duh. I keep my word,” he said.

Silence settled through the tense atmosphere.

“...I’ll walk,” the thunder-quirk villain said. “Keep your promise and I’ll talk, Ground Zero.”

“Fine with me,” Ground Zero huffed, before nodding his head for the others to follow him down. “You better be ready with what you have to say; I don’t like wasting my time.”

The so-called villains laughed, even if they sounded tired and defeated. Unbeknownst to them, this simple thing, that small conversation, would imprint themselves into the minds of the children, teens, and individuals watching from their homes.

Some of these villains, were they really ever evil in the first place?

Weren’t these people just hurt, and lashing back, unmindful of whoever it was they hurt- like animals, unable to tell the difference from predator or fellow prey?

And the hero some people regarded as pure aggression, rage, and uncontrollable explosions— this man flying his way down the man-made concrete hill with strands of blond hair sticking to his face from the rain, his skin shining golden under slivers of sunlight through brightening skies—

Wasn’t he just a man, after all, and a good one? Someone misunderstood?

Yet others saw something else, blinded as they were by sudden sunlight through passing rain:

They saw a vengeful angel, bloodied and bruised, descending to pass judgment. He was beautiful with his scars and without them, and even the mess of his wet hair looked more artful than anything else.

That day, be it that happenstance wanted to be kind to him or fortune truly favored the brave,

Bakugou Katsuki gained more people in his favor, even without him intending it.