#that's why she always has her hair in a ponytail lol its easier

[kristenbeeapples]

People Fig Lets Braid Her Hair (been thinking about this a lot since her saying she never has it down)

Ooh a good prompt, thanks friend!! Sorry it took so long, but *gestures vaguely at the world* shit’s wild rn. Hope you enjoy!

When she was younger, it was Gilear who braided her hair. Her

mom did it a couple of times, but both she and Fig hated it, and it almost

always ended in one or the other in tears. Gilear was gentle, and patient, and

knew lots of fancy elven braids that made her the envy of all the other girls

in her grade, and so the task fell to him.

Every morning she would sit down with her dad and chatter away

– about what she was doing at school that day, or the drama going on with the

other cheerleaders, who liked who in her class – whilst he murmured soft

agreements, his hands moving deftly through her hair. It was often the best

part of her day, a moment of stillness amongst the gymnastics and ballet and

the hundred-odd other after-school activities she took part in. Even as she

grew older and learned how to her own hair, every now and then, when she wanted

to look especially nice or just couldn’t be bothered, she would sit down in

front of her dad with her hairbrush and wait until he sighed and put down

whatever he was doing to fix it nicely. It was as reliable and steady as a

ticking clock; if she needed it, he would be there.

Until, of course, her horns come in, and Gilear can’t even look at her any more, let alone sit close enough to touch her.

She keeps her hair loose for the first few weeks after he

leaves, hoping it’ll disguise the burgeoning horns, but eventually it becomes

clear that nothing will keep them hidden. The rebellion kicks in, then: fine,

let everyone see them. Let everyone see who she is.

In the bathroom, alone, Fig attempts to do one of the fancy

braids that used to come naturally, but the hair won’t sit right on her horns

and she gives up after she almost stabs herself trying to section it off. She

settles on a thick braid that starts halfway down her head, half falling out of

the bobble, messy and wild and untameable, just like her.

It’s perfect.

At a sleepover a few months and daring adventures later, Fig

puts the finishing touches on a braid in Kristen’s hair. “There, all done,” she

says.

Kristen, excited, scrambles up from the floor to look at in

the mirror of Fabian’s en-suite (the bastard), leaving Fig to survey

the room. They’re all sleeping over at Fabian’s after what was supposed to be a study session descended into the usual chaos and it got too late for any of them to bother going home. Fig has declared this a Sleepover, with a captial S, which means secrets and braiding each other’s hair and makeovers and all sorts of fun she hasn’t gotten to do in ages. She’s excited. 

None of the Bad Kids other than her really did sleepovers

before they met each other, and she’s secretly delighted to get to teach them all the

best sleepover activities. In the corner, she has Adaine very carefully painting

Gorgug’s nails, both of them already sporting new hairstyles from Fig. Fabian

and Riz are sat on Fabian’s bed being boys and playing video games, but

Fig is scheming ways to get them involved. She reckons she can persuade – or, more

accurately, bully –  one or both of them

into a makeover before the night is over.

Kristen bounds back from the bathroom, grinning. “It looks

great, thank you!” she says. “Come on, your turn.”

Fig blanches. “Oh, you don’t have to-”

“I want to!” Kristen says. “Sit.”

Fig sighs, and gives in, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Kristen stands behind her and begins to untangle her hair from the braid it’s

currently in. Fig winces. Kristen is not the most careful person in the world,

and it feels less like getting her hair done than getting her hair pulled out.

“Ow!” she yelps loudly after a minute as Kristen yanks a

particularly big chunk.

“Sorry!” Kristen says. “I think I’ve almost got it-”

“Kristen, what are you doing?” Fabian asks, pausing

the video game to look over at them.

“I’m braiding Fig’s hair!” Kristen says, defensively.

“You’re destroying Fig’s hair. Stop it.” Fabian says,

getting up and shooing Kristen away.

“Rude,” Kristen says, but there’s no animosity behind it. She

goes to sit beside Riz on the bed.

“You can play with me,” Riz says, tossing Kristen one of the

controllers. “Fabian’s just grumpy because he was losing.”

“Was not,” Fabian huffs, as Kristen giggles.

“What the fuck is happening?” Fig says, trying to turn

around and see Fabian. He grips her head and pushes it forward.

“I’m doing your hair. Properly.” he says firmly, and starts

brushing out the mess Kristen had created.

Fig braces herself, but Fabian is surprisingly gentle, and she

can tell as he starts to plait her hair with deft hands that he’s actually,

like, good at this. “Where did you learn how to do this?” she asks.

“Mama,” Fabian says, voice slow as he focuses. “Cathilda

braids her hair normally, but she wanted me to learn. It’s elven tradition. You

learned from your mom, right?”

“Mmm,” Fig says, thinking of Gilear, “Right.”

A few minutes later, after Riz has handily beaten Kristen in

several rounds of the racing game they’re playing, Fabian steps aside. “Done,”

he says.

Fig takes out her crystal and opens up her camera to take a

look. It’s different than how she normally does it, fancier, and somehow Fabian’s

tied bits of gold in there (where did he even get those?), but it looks really

good. She looks up at Fabian, who is trying to look nonchalant, and smiles. “I

love it,” she says.

“You do?” Fabian says. “I mean, of course you do, it’s

great. I’m great.”

Fig jumps up and hugs him in the middle of his backpedalling.

“Thank you,” she says, softly.

He relaxes a little and hugs her back. “You are very welcome,”

he says. “If you tell anyone else at school about this –“

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll beat me up, I know,” Fig rolls her eyes

as she breaks the hug. “Alright, your turn.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re giving Fabian a makeover,” Fig announces to the room.

“No!” Fabian groans as the others cheer, but when Fig looks back at him he’s smiling. 

Fig grins wide and grabs her make-up bag. “Let’s do this!”

[madsthewordclown]

Fire Lily | Pt. 12

warnings: none

a/n: Sorry this took me this long, guys! I’m back in school and am a little bit busier now, but I promise I’ll update as much as I can! Be warned that I did write a portion of this chapter with Can We Sing the Darkness to Light in my brain (it’s a choral piece and I’m a nerd lol) and so I probably found some of what I wrote a lot more emotionally compelling than it is due to my fragile state of mind when I hear a good tenor part. Whoops.

This chapter takes place during “The Headband.” The story kind of stalls for a bit here in the aftermath of Crossroads of Destiny, so I’m sorry about that, but I promise I’ve got some more exciting things planned for later!

Fire Lily Masterlist

The Fire Nation was weird. It was a thought that Y/N couldn’t get out of her head. Everywhere Y/N had been in the Earth Kingdom (besides Ba Sing Se, which was strange and creepy within its own right), had had the shadow of war looming over it constantly. Here, it was like it didn’t exist.

There was no fear in the Fire Nation, not like there was in the Earth Kingdom, and nothing like what Katara and Sokka had described about the Southern Water Tribe. Here, they weren’t constantly on alert. They could relax. Somehow, the Fire Nation had always been on the offensive. These people didn’t know what it was like, hearing about armies creeping closer to your home.

It was also strange to think about how Zuko lived there. The Fire Nation was his home. Y/N was letting herself think about Zuko now, every once in a while. She let herself think about Jet, too. She thought of him every time she picked up her swords to spar with Sokka. She thought of him every time she lit their fire at night.

They were staying in a cave outside of the village, and it gave Y/N the heebie-jeebies. She didn’t like how dark and damp it was, and it made her feel trapped. Toph felt right at home, surrounded on all sides by earth. Meanwhile, Sokka couldn’t get past the threat of “enemy birds.”

“They’re Fire Nation birds, guys,” Sokka insisted, waving his arms frantically to deter the birds in question.

“They’re birds, Sokka,” Katara corrected, rolling her eyes.

“So, this is how it’s going to be until the invasion.” Sokka looked around at their surroundings—the cave, some rocks, grass.

“Hiding in cave after cave after cave…” Y/N shuddered, glaring at the mouth of the cave.

“We don’t need to be cave people,” Katara said, putting a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “What we need is some new clothes.”

“Yeah,” Aang agreed, “blending in is better than hiding out. We’ll be safer with Fire Nation disguises.”

As much as Y/N hated wearing Fire Nation clothes, she hated constant cave-living more. “I like that plan.”

“We don’t want to sit around and eat cave hoppers,” Toph said, hitting the cave wall. A few of the bugs came tumbling onto the ground, and Momo scooped one up and ate it with a chomp. Y/N winced. “They have much better food out there.”

“Well, where are we going to get clothes?” Sokka questioned, crossing his arms. “We don’t have nearly enough money.”

Y/N thought for a moment. “We could just steal some. I thought I saw some clotheslines when we flew in.”

The others stared at her for a moment.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures?” Y/N added, uncertainly. Yes, they were the “good guys,” but they also needed clothes, and no one had any better ideas.

“Okay,” Katara agreed quickly. “Let’s go.”

---

As it turned out, stealing had been very fun. Y/N wondered briefly if that made her a bad person, but she had managed to find a ribbon for her hair, and the feeling of having it away from her face made her question her morals a lot less.

Y/N did try her best to find something that wasn’t red, to no avail. Soon, they were all clad in their Fire Nation getup. It felt a lot better than the soldier’s uniform, but Y/N still wasn’t sold on the red. Sokka and Aang seemed to be enjoying themselves, though, and Aang seemed a lot less upset about covering up his arrow.

Y/N was very unsure about the sleeveless red top and dark grey pants that she was left with. But it was definitely better than her tattered dress, and the ensemble was easier to move in. She liked how her arms were completely free, and the long pants made the grass let scratchy.

Katara and Toph looked great in their outfits, although Katara did seem upset about having to remove her necklace, and Toph had already punched the soles out of her new shoes. They made the unanimous decision to go into town and get some shopping done with the money they had left.

“Here.” Y/N took her own money out of her bag, as well as the gold cup with her family crest. “We can all use this. I don’t really need it anymore.”

It was time to let go of the cup. It would be useful to them, at least. And there were plenty more heirlooms in her family. And now, standing side by side with the Avatar, two of the most powerful benders in the world, and Sokka, in his genius, Y/N felt more confident than ever that maybe she’d be able to make it back home. Her father could forgive her for getting rid of the cup. Her mother thought it was ugly, anyway.

“Are you sure?” Aang asked with some concern. Y/N nodded.

“It’ll be more useful to us if we trade it,” Y/N insisted. Besides, the cup was just another reminder of Ba Sing Se.

“Wait.” Katara stopped Y/N as the others turned to leave. “Your hair. The ponytail is too low. The Fire Nation has them higher.”

“Oh.” Y/N didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it. She pulled the deep red ribbon out of her hair.

“Here, let me help,” Katara said, pulling the ribbon from Y/N’s hands. Y/N was tall, so she had to crouch a bit, allowing Katara to secure her hair into a ponytail that sat towards the crown of her head.

“Better,” Katara hummed approvingly. She took Y/N’s hand. “Now let’s go.”

The village they were in was vibrant and peaceful, Y/N noticed. There were plenty of people around, and Y/N hadn’t seen any soldiers yet. The group decided it was safe to split up if they wanted to. Y/N followed Toph and Katara to a jewelry booth.

Y/N helped Katara pick out a new necklace, and Toph donned a small crown. Y/N was a bit surprised—Toph didn’t seem like the type to appreciate jewelry. Y/N bought a set of matching gold bangles to put on her wrists.

“You know,” Katara suggested as she secured the necklace around her throat, “we could get you something for your swords. I know Jet had something like that.” Katara’s voice caught on Jet’s name for just a moment before recovering.

It would very useful, Y/N knew. She could always bend, but she felt like Katara could tell she had mixed feelings about it. Plus, she knew more about wielding the swords than proper firebending.

After a lot of scouring, Toph managed to locate a store for weaponry. Y/N asked the shopkeeper for advice on what to look for. He had seemed confused for a moment, and Y/N remembered that hook swords probably weren’t a common choice here—she had read once in her library that they were a traditional weapon from the northern Earth Kingdom. But luckily, the shopkeeper hadn’t asked any questions and directed her to the right area.

Y/N ended up settling on a belt-like sheath, with two loops at her hips that the hooked points of the sword easily fit through, but it would get stuck at the handle, holding the swords securely but still allowing for Y/N to pull them out without much trouble.

“Six gold pieces,” the shopkeeper said in an unnecessarily loud voice. Y/N frowned. They only had a few silver pieces and the cup left, and Sokka and Aang had the rest of the money. Y/N pulled the cup out of her bag and set it on the counter.

“I’ll trade this for it.” The shopkeeper’s eyes widened.

“Where did you get that?” He asked, eyeing the piece. It looked as if he thought it was fake; he picked it up and tapped it on the counter a few times.

“I’m from the colonies,” Y/N said. It wasn’t a complete lie. Technically, she was. The man gave her a brief look of disgust.

“It’s worth more than what you’re asking,” Y/N pressed, tapping a beat on the counter impatiently. She hoped he wouldn’t ask more questions or say anything about what his sour face was for.

“Deal,” the man said finally, taking the cup and stashing it behind the counter. Y/N felt surprisingly little as she watched it disappear from sight, and any wisps of sadness were expunged when she secured the belt around her waist.

Y/N walked back with Katara and Toph to their cave hideout. Sokka was already waiting, but Aang was nowhere to be found.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Y/N reassured. “There aren’t very many soldiers in this village, and his tattoos are covered.”

“Yeah, Twinkle Toes can handle himself,” Toph agreed, plopping down onto the grass.

“Hey, Y/N?” Sokka called, waving his arm. “Want to look over some of these plans with me?”

Before Y/N could respond, Katara was speaking. “You never ask me to help you with that stuff.”

“Hey,” Sokka protested. “You and Aang and Toph handle the bending, and Y/N and I will handle the plans. No offense, Y/N.”

“None taken.” Y/N knew her bending was almost useless—she could light their fire at night, but other than that she only knew a few basic moves. In a true bending fight, she was done for.

Y/N walked over to join Sokka, sitting on the grass in front of a rock that he was using as a makeshift table. Y/N was a bender, sure, but it was nice to have a non-bender around. Y/N wasn’t comfortable with her bending like the others, who were all masters of their own elements when she had never even had a formal teacher.

“I tried looking into that boiling rock you were talking about a bit more,” Sokka explained, spreading a map across the rock that he hadn’t shown her before. It was an older map of the Fire Nation—Y/N wasn’t sure where he got it.

“I couldn’t come up with much, but my guess is somewhere like that would probably be in one of the more volcanic regions of the Fire Nation.”

“But why would my brother be in the Fire Nation?” Y/N wondered aloud.

“What?” Sokka looked at her in confusion, an eyebrow raised. “You’re looking for your brother?”

“Um…” Y/N hummed awkwardly. “Yeah. He was arrested by the Fire Nation before I left home. I had a weird dream a few days ago, and he said something about a boiling rock.” She could tell Sokka was looking at her sympathetically, although she made a point to focus her eyes on the map.

“I know it’s a long shot,” Y/N acknowledged, “but I thought I’d at least try.”

“No, I totally get it,” Sokka shrugged. “You want him to be safe. I get that. He’s your brother.”

“I feel like it’s my fault,” Y/N admitted. “I didn’t help him. I actually made the situation worse.” Y/N gave a dry laugh. “I don’t know if he’d want to see me.”

“Of course he wants to see you.” Sokka looked affronted. “He’s your brother, and you’re supposed to take care of each other.”

“Yes,” Y/N groaned, “but I didn’t!”

“He’s your older brother, right?” Sokka clarified, his head echoing your nod in response.

“Well,” Sokka paused, as if searching for the right words, “as an older brother, I’m sure he wants to see you. And Y/N, I know it’s hard when you want to protect someone, and you fail.” Sokka’s eyes were filled with a sadness that made Y/N want to reach out and hug him, but she held off.

“But that doesn’t mean that that person is going to be angry at you,” Sokka continued carefully. Y/N felt like he was reassuring himself as much as he was her. “And even if you fail, you can keep doing everything you can to protect the people you care about. And I’m sure that he wants to do the same for you.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” Y/N said softly, her eyes beginning to water. Before she could back away, Sokka was pulling her into a hug.

Y/N hugged him back. She realized she hadn’t hugged anyone since… well, before she left home. They stayed there for a moment, before Sokka pulled away.

“Ready to review my schedule?” Sokka asked, suddenly upbeat. He unrolled a scroll that spread all the way across the rock and down onto the grass.

“Oh my…” The entire thing was color-coded. Y/N wondered where he got the ink for that. “Hand me a pen.”

Sokka smiled as they went to work.

---

Aang returned to camp later in the afternoon and was properly lectured by Katara. Sokka was completely appalled.

“You’re enrolled in Fire Nation school?” Sokka asked for the tenth time. Aang’s answer didn’t change.

“Yes. And we learn about the secret river tomorrow!” Aang reminded them. The secret river was the only thing getting Sokka to moderately accept the idea. Y/N thought Sokka was too easily persuaded by weird sneak-attack opportunities. “But I can’t go back unless I bring my parents to meet with the headmaster right now.”

“Y/N can be a pretty convincing actress,” Toph suggested. “Not for me, since I can tell when you’re lying, but others seem pretty convinced.”

“Sokka, Y/N,” Aang pleaded, “will you pretend to be my parents?”

“Sure,” Y/N agreed. If Aang really wanted to go to this school, she would help. She remembered how much she wished she could go to school. While it was still far from a normal experience… Aang deserved to have some fun like a regular kid.

“I don’t know,” Sokka murmured, looking contemplative.

“Secret river, Sokka!”

“Fine,” Sokka gave in. “But first we need to get our disguises!”

“Disguises?” Y/N echoed, but Sokka was already running off, Aang following enthusiastically behind him.

When Sokka and Aang returned, Y/N almost died from laughter. The beard plastered to Sokka’s face was ridiculous. She had no clue where he got it.

“Y/N, make your hair look more mature and put this in your shirt,” Sokka ordered, holding out a bundle of cloth fashioned into a smooth round shape. It looked like a bag stuff with wool.

“What?”

Sokka sighed exasperatedly. “Do you want to be convincing or not?”

“Fine.”

Y/N felt ridiculous and was pretty sure she looked almost as ridiculous as Sokka as Aang led them into the school building. Y/N noticed how everything inside seemed a little bit short, and portraits of Fire Lord Ozai hung on the walls, Fire Nation insignias everywhere. Y/N had never seen the Fire Lord’s face before until Aang had brought back his macaroni portrait.

Zuko didn’t look like him, Y/N noticed. Ozai’s face was sharp—Zuko’s was kinder. But Y/N found herself imagining Zuko on that poster, with his shaggy hair and scar, and that look on his face when he fired at the Avatar.

Y/N took a seat with Sokka and Aang as they entered the headmaster’s office. The headmaster was a severe-looking man with the same beard, sideburns, and thin mustache that all of the Fire Nation men Y/N had met seemed to have. He greeted them as they took their seats.

“Thank you for coming, Mr. and Mrs…”

“Fire,” Sokka replied haughtily. His accent was atrocious. “Wang Fire.” Y/N held back a snort.

“And this is my wife,” Sokka gestured to Y/N, “Sapphire.”

It took everything in Y/N’s power to not roll her eyes. “Sapphire Fire. Nice to meet you.”

“Well, Mr. and Mrs.,” the headmaster paused, “Fire. Your son has been enrolled here for two days and is already causing problems. He’s argued with his history teacher, disrupted music class, and roughed up my star pupil.”

“That doesn’t sound like our Kuzon!” Y/N said, giving Aang a discrete bump of her elbow when he smiled.

“That’s what any mother would say, ma’am,” the headmaster responded. “Nonetheless, you’re forewarned. If we continue to have problems, I’ll have to send him to reform school.”

“Reform school?” Y/N asked.

“By that, I mean the coal mines.” The headmaster stood, glaring down at them.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Headmaster,” Sokka said. Y/N wanted to facepalm. “I’ll straighten this boy out something fierce!” Sokka turned to Aang. “Young man, when we get home, you’re in for the punishment of a lifetime!”

The headmaster seemed rather satisfied with that response, nodding with a slight smirk.

“Thank you for informing us of our son’s behavior,” Y/N told him, trying to sound professional to make up for Sokka’s over-the-top character. “Goodbye.”

“Success!” Sokka cheered as soon as they were out of earshot. Y/N punched his arm.

“Wang Fire?” Y/N questioned incredulously.

“What? It’s a good name!” Sokka whined, rubbing the spot on his arm.

“Sapphire Fire?” Aang added with a smirk.

“Okay, so maybe that one wasn’t my best,” Sokka admitted, stroking his beard.

“Will you please get rid of that thing?” Y/N already didn’t like how much Sokka was enjoying his fake facial hair.

“Never,” Sokka replied with a smile.

Fire Lily Masterlist

taglist: @kaylove12, @akariblue, @wolfiemichele, @aquatickanye, @sunflowerr-mami, @nadiblue. @la3divine, @sarsky, @aangsupremacy 

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone -Chapter 26

Title: Preparations

Warning:  it’s filler.  I figured we needed some cute daddy Tyler. lol

Tagging:  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @miss-smutty​, @tragiclyhip​

“When you met mumma, you guys were working together, right?”

Addie poses the question as she sits atop the kitchen island; legs swinging back and forth as they dangle over the edge, the heels of silver and gold glitter infused jelly sandals lightly thumping against the wood. She insisted on bringing one of her favourite pairs of shoes from home; arguing that she didn’t care that they were ‘out of season’ and that she would wear what she wants, when she wants, and no one could tell her otherwise. In the end they’d gone perfectly with the new ‘Christmas’ dress she’d picked out Bloomingdales; a vibrant yellow concoction with capped sleeves embellished with strips of lace, a sash around the waist that ties in an enormous bow at the back, and an elaborate tulle skirt several layers thick that shimmers in the light. Forgoing all the burgundy, emerald green, and red dresses that had lined the regular priced racks in favour of an outfit from the leftover and highly discounted summer section. It was a hill Esme hadn't been willing to die on; preferring that Addie showcase both her independence in choosing her own outfit, and being proud of her personal style and preferences. And it suits her; as bright and adorable as her personality with just enough ‘no fucks given’ sprinkled on for good measure.

While tiny and seemingly fragile, she can be extremely assertive and adverse to any form of compromise; tenacious to a fault and digging her heels in and sticking to her guns when she feels she’s one hundred right about her stance. Even if there’s mountains of proof to show that she is, in fact, completely wrong. Someone so stubborn and feisty lingering inside that cute, wee package; able to hold her own while out playing with her older siblings and not afraid to get a bloody nose or a fat lip or a black eye. And not deterred in the slightest when she DOES get injured; right back to what she was doing only hours after getting stitches or a cast removed. Not shying away from climbing trees or splashing in mud puddles or helping muck out the goats stalls while wearing clunky rubber boots paired with a Disney princess dress. Very much like her older sister had been at that age; enjoying being physical and active and playing sports and rough housing one minute, then showcasing her more ‘girly side’ the next. Loving trips to the salon with mummy for manis and pedis; enjoying picking her own shade of polish and then getting to sip orange juice from a champagne glass while getting a facial and her hair trimmed. Collecting dolls along with various rocks and shells and beach glass. Superhero figures taking up residence on her bedroom shelves right alongside stuffies of her favourite animals -koalas, sloths, and kangaroos currently at the top of the list- and snow globes from different parts of the world. Her closet filled with not only frilly dresses and sparkly leggings and colourful sweaters emblazoned with unicorns and french bulldogs and flamingos, but old hand me downs from her brothers; ripped and faded jeans and tattered t-shirts and board shorts.

“Right,” Tyler confirms, as he tends to running a brush through her waist length hair; damp from misting it down with a spray bottle in order to easier part it into sections.

It’s a far cry from his old life; his beaten and busted up hands with their multitude of scars and calluses once used to being soaked in blood and caked with dirt. Large and weathered with misshapen knuckles, they’d long ago gotten accustomed to hard, manual labour and the brutality that he’d had to inflict on others; fists that pummelled bodies and faces and fingers that pulled triggers and wrapped around throats and choked the life out of combatants. And while they still get caked in mud from working around the house and they’re still entrusted to load magazines and are capable of taking a gun apart in thirteen seconds flat, they’ve morphed into other uses. Beginning with diapering babies and tending to the impossibly tiny snaps on jumpers, buttons on little sweaters, and zippers on sleepers. Moving on to tying kid sized shoe laces and cleaning and patching up skinned knees and elbows. Advancing to far more difficult hair styling techniques than the simple ponytails he’d began affixing on Millie when she was a toddler; various styles of braids adorned with ribbons, and snapping barrettes and clamping clips into place.

Being a girl dad is unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. The six short years -despite the little time he’d actually been home- he’d spent with Austin had prepared him for raising boys. His son, when healthy, had been extremely active and fearless and full of curiosity and energy; getting as messy and as dirty as possible and loving every second of it. Obsessed with superheroes and sports and always clad in clothing that displayed his favourites; football jerseys and baseball caps and sweats emblazoned with Superman or Batman logos. He had been terrified twelve years ago when the news had come in that Millie was in fact going to be a girl; not only envisioning frilly dresses and a closet full of pink and those ridiculous headbands parents insist on putting on their infants, but thinking back to his own treatment of women. The days when he’d used them for nothing more than sex; random strangers picked up in bars or that he’d meet on the street in whatever city a job sent him to. A failed marriage; putting more of a priority on the military than he did on treating his wife properly. And all he could think about was how having a daughter was somehow a punishment for the bad shit he’d done. A little girl that he’d have to protect from guys like him.

It was hard to get used to; big fingers having to master putting in tiny earrings and tending to impossibly small zippers and buttons , getting comfortable with the amount of pink and purple in their rooms and closets. Eventually graduating into attending tea parties and playing with Barbies and helping make crafts; getting used to paint on his palms and between his fingers and glitter stuck under his nails and in his hair and beard. Determined to be a hands-on father even if its activities are way outside of his comfort zone; gymnastic meets and dance recitals as opposed to lacrosse matches and football games. Being a girl dad isn’t for the weak; having to worry about your little girls’ hearts being broken and if the guys they pick will treat them right and if they themselves will make smart and responsible choices as teenagers. And the hormones; the up and down emotions and the drastic switch from bitchy to overly sensitive. Having a wife go through it once a month is enough. never mind the thought of three other girls. The worry of how he’ll handle not only the emergence of puberty, but if all four female ‘clocks’ decide to sync up. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to handle THAT; all the women in his life going through the cramps and the moodiness and the demands to be coddled and babied one minute and left the fuck alone the next.

“Does that mean mummy beat up and killed bad guys too?”

“No. She never did any of that stuff. That was my job, not hers.”

“What did she do?”

“She tracked down the bad guys. And where they were doing mean things to good people. Then she told me...or guys like me...where they were so we could go and take care of things.”

“So you could go and kill them?”

“You don’t always have to kill people. Sometimes it’s enough to just rough them up a bit.”

“And other times they fight back and try to hurt you and you have to hurt them first?”

“Pretty much.”

“Have you killed a lot of people?”

“Not that many," he lies. It's actually a staggering amount; the death toll -from his hand alone- in Dhaka putting the count well over three hundred.

“How many is ‘not that many'?’”

“I don’t know, Peanut. I’ve never kept track.”

“But you’ve helped more people than you’ve hurt. That’s what mummy said when I asked if it was true. If Tyler was lying when he told me you kill people for a living.”

“That’s a while ago. That you asked mummy that.”

“I was three. That’s a whole two years ago. But sometimes I think about it. Especially when you go away. I think about you having to kill people.”

“And what do you think WHEN you think about that? About what I sometimes have to do?”

“I dunno know,” Addie shrugs, and then lifts the spray bottle clutched in both hands and holds it towards her face; giggling when she pulls the trigger and catches some of the mist in her mouth.

“Does it bother you? When you think about it? That I’ve killed people? That sometimes I still have to?”

“Why would it bother me?”

“Kind of a hard thing to hear, don’t you think? That daddy has to do stuff like that?”

“It’s your job. It’s what you do. You have to hurt people to save other people. And sometimes, if they try and hurt you first, you have to kill them. Because if you didn’t, they might kill you and then you never come home and we never get to see you again. It’s not THAT hard to hear. I’d rather you kill someone and come home than never see you again.”

“You know,” he plucks the spray bottle from her hands and dampens a section of hair. “You’re pretty smart for only five.”

“Smart like mummy.”

He leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Cute like her too.”

“Are you going to get in trouble? For killing people?”

“Who would I get in trouble with?”

“God. Isn’t that one of the things we’re not supposed to do? Kill people?”

“How do you know about that? We don’t talk about that stuff at home.”

“I hear things. At school. Some of the older kids talking. Are you? Going to get in trouble? For killing people?”

“Probably,” he admits. “I’m sure I’ll face some kind of judgement for it. When my time comes.”

“But wouldn’t it be okay ‘cause you only kill bad people? That were hurting good people? Wouldn’t that be allowed? And if you had to kill someone so you could come home to us, wouldn’t that be okay too?”

“I don’t know,” he snags a yellow cloth ribbon off the island and begins braiding a section of hair around it. “I’ve never thought that far ahead about things.”

“It would suck if you got in trouble for helping people. That wouldn’t be fair at all. If you got sent to hell for doing stuff like that. I mean, you were doing something GOOD. You weren’t doing something bad. You HAD to kill evil people to help good people. And to make sure you come home to mummy and us kids. I can’t see you getting in trouble for something like THAT.”

“Doesn’t make much sense to me either. But not a lot does anymore.”

“I’ll be really mad if you get in trouble and sent somewhere different than me. I don’t want us to be in two separate places. I want us to be together. All of us. You and mummy and all us kids. I don’t want us to all be separated. Well, maybe Millie could be. Because she’s mean to me. All the time.”

“Millie is going through some stuff. She’s going to be a teenager soon. A lot of drama leading up to THAT.”

“She says I’m annoying. That she used to really like me when I was a baby and couldn’t do anything. But now I can do lots of stuff and I can talk and she says that pisses her off. That I’m a bratty little sister.”

“You are NOT bratty.”

“Right? That’s what I said. She’s bratty if anything. Am I annoying, daddy? Don’t lie. You can tell me the truth.”

“You are not annoying. If anyone is annoying, it’s Millie.”

“I said THAT too! But she’s mean. She even threatened to cut my hair off. Shave it. Because I couldn’t find my brush and I borrowed hers and she didn’t like that. So you know what I did? While you were gone?”

“What did you do?”

“I took the tops off two Oreo cookies and I ate the middle and then I put in mayonnaise and I put the tops back on and gave them to Millie. I told her I was being a good little sister and bringing her a snack. And she put a whole one in her mouth! She almost puked!”

He can’t help but chuckle. “You actually did that?”

“Yup. It was awesome. I laughed so hard, I almost peed! But then she started chasing me around the house threatening to kill me. Mummy was screaming at her to lighten up, that it was just a joke. And then she told mummy to shut up and Tyler got mad. REALLY mad. He tackled Millie and grabbed her by the hair and pushed her face into the carpet. Then he put her in a figure four leg lock and made her cry.”

“Millie told your mom to shut up?”

“Oooops…” Addie tilts her head back to look at him, a sheepish smile curving her lips. “....I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part.”

“Who told you not to tell me? Millie?”

The five year old shakes her head.

“TJ?”

Another shake, followed by a tiny “No.”

“Addie…”

“It was mummy! She said not to tell you because you’d get pissed off and you didn’t need to. Because she took care of it right when it happened. Well, Tyler did. He was really, really, REALLY mad. She learned her lesson. I’m sure of it. He made her cry. Lots.”

“Did that happen a lot? Millie getting mouthy with your mom?”

“Not really.”

He stares pointedly down at her.

“A few times,” she reluctantly admits. “She said some things that were really mean. To mummy. And she said the F word once, too. Mixed with the B word.”

“She said that ? To your mom?”

Addie chews nervously on her bottom lip. “Yeah, she called her an f-ing B word.”

“What did mummy do?”

“She didn’t get a chance to do anything. Desi freaked out. And he’s really big and he can be really scary when he wants. Like you. Desi told her that she should never, ever talk to her mum like that. And that you’d be really mad if you found out. And that she’d rather deal with him than you. Which is true. Desi might be bigger than you, but you’re definitely tougher. I mean, he doesn’t kill people for a living. You do.”

“Things were pretty bad, huh? While I was gone.”

“A little. Millie went off the reservation. Big time. She’s lucky she’s even breathing. ‘Cause Tyler was ready to kill her. And I don’t blame him. You’re mad, aren’t you. Are you mad, daddy?”

“A bit.”

“You know how I can tell? That you’re mad? Your neck moves. Right here,” she reaches up to press to fingertips against the side of his throat. “Where the bad guy shot you a long time ago.”

“How did you know about that?”

“Mummy told me. I asked her how you got that scar. She said that a long time ago, her and Ovi were in trouble and you had to get them out of a really bad place. And then you made sure they were safe and sound, but a bad guy shot you. In the neck. And that’s why you have the scar there.”

“Did that scare you? Hearing that?”

“A little, I guess. I mean, you could have died, right?”

“I could have, yeah.”

“And then you and mummy never would have gotten married. And had kids. Millie would be the only one to exist. None of us would. So yeah, that part scared me a bit; that the bad guy could have killed and none of us ever would have been born. Did you kill him?”

“Eventually.”

“Mummy said she stayed with you. After it happened. And that she went back to Australia with you and that’s how she ended up there. It’s where you guys got married. And had Millie and me and Kota and Brookie. That we were the ones born there. So we’re REAL Australians, like you. Everyone else is American.”

“Everyone else WAS American. You’re all Australian now.”

“How does that work?”

“A lot of papers you have to fill out. To become a citizen. But you all are. Mummy and I made sure of it.”

“Is mummy an Australian too?”

“By marriage, yeah.”

“It’s a good thing she married you. You’re a lucky guy, daddy. That someone like mummy fell in love with you.”

“I am,” he confirms. “Very lucky. She’s a pretty good mummy, huh?”

“She’s the best mummy EVER. If we could pick our mummies, I’d pick her. Because she’s nice and she gives good cuddles and kisses and she tells the best silly jokes. And she’s super smart and really cute too. And little! Like me!”

“That’s where you get from. Being so cute and wee. You’re just like your mumma.”

Her eyes sparkle as she smiles broadly up at him; the corners and the bridge of her nose crinkle. “And that’s a good thing, yeah?”

“A very good thing,” Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he brushes the tip of his nose against hers; smiling at the way she throws her head back and giggles.

He’s seen her mother do that exact movement and expression a number of times; excitement while on the rides at Disney World with the kids, when she’s had one too many glasses of wine and even his terrible ‘dad jokes’ are suddenly hilarious, when they’ve been on one of their ‘mommy and daddy’ vacations and she’s gotten up the guts to try something new and exciting; emboldened by his encouragement and forever feeling safe and secure as long as he’s by her side. So much of Esme in the tiny little girl in front of him; tenacious and ferociously intelligent and loving deeply and fearlessly. Knowing the darkness and the horrors that exist in the world but not allowing herself to be tarnished by it; always finding ways to smile and laugh and find the beauty in every day.

“What do you think mummy would have done if she didn’t do the job she did?” Addie inquires, when she finally drops her head back down and he’s able to return to tending her hair.

“I don’t know. Teach? Be a nurse? Maybe a doctor?”

“How would you have met her? If she didn’t do her old job?”

“Maybe I would have met her on the beach. In Australia. Maybe she would have come there on a vacation.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you would have gone to where she used to live. In Chicago.”

“She used to live in Colorado. That’s where she was born and where she grew up. Chicago is a totally different place.”

“She used to live by the mountains. When I was in her tummy, you guys lived on a hobby farm. And you had goats and chickens. Mummy says we still own that house.”

“Yup, we do. We rent it out.”

“Can we go there one day? I’d like to see it. I’d like to see where you guys were living when I was in mummy’s belly. Is that where I was made?”

“We’re pretty sure that’s where it happened. Not many other places it could have been.”

“Maybe we can go and visit. And I can see where I was made. That would be fun. I want to see the mountains.”

“Maybe one day.” He finishes up the first braided pigtail, securing it with an impossibly small elastic before turning his attention to the other section of hair.

“If you met mummy a different way, would you have still liked her? Would you have still fallen in love with her?”

“Yup. Why wouldn’t have I? She still would have been mummy. She still would have been the same person. Still would have been the most beautiful girl ever.”

“Do you think she still would have fallen in love with you?”

“I sure as hell hope so. Would sure suck if she didn’t. Your mumma is pretty special, Peanut. She’s the love of my life. Took me until I was thirty five to meet her.”

“You were married before, though. To Austin's mom. You didn’t love her?”

“I did. But not in the way I love your mum. Your mum? That’s who I want to spend the rest of my life with. Grow really, really, REALLY old with. It’s a whole other kind of love. And you know what? It’s not easy to explain. You just know what you feel.”

“Imagine if things were opposite? If you went to Colorado and met mummy instead of her meeting you in Australia and working with you? And then you would have stayed there; where the snow and the mountains are instead of the beach and the ocean. How come you moved? Why didn’t you guys stay? Where the mountains are?”

“Things changed. We weren’t happy there anymore. We needed to get away. Go back to the place where we were the happiest.”

“In Australia?”

“Yup.”

“That’s where I’m happiest too. I love it there. I love how warm it is; the sun and the sand and the water. I like the sound it makes; listening to it when I’m trying to fall asleep. And I like how the beach feels; between my toes and when I let it run through my fingers. And I love my room and my toys and my school and my friends and all the goats and our pigs and our chickens. And Charlie. I love him the most. I love making him peanut butter sandwiches. I’d miss him the most. If we had to leave. We won’t have to leave will we, daddy?”

“I don’t see why we would have to.”

“I don’t ever want to leave Australia. It’s perfect there. It’s where I was born. And where you were born too. We have that in common. We were BOTH born there.”

“Yeah…” he grins, and presses a kiss to the back of her head. “...we were.”

“I mean, we have other stuff in common too. Because you’re my dad and that means you helped make me so that means half of me is half of you. The other half is from mummy. And we both love surfing. And animals. And Vegemite. I LOVE Vegemite. It’s sooooo good.”

“Speaking of Vegemite, was it you that left the Vegemite and Nutella sandwich for Santa?”

Addie giggles. “Maybe…”

“Why would you ever put the two of those together?”

“Tyler made it for his school lunch once and he let me try a bit and it was really good! So I thought Santa might like to try it. Part American, part Australian.”

“You know, that’s pretty genius. And it worked. I tried a bit and it wasn’t bad.”

“Right?! You wouldn’t think it would work, but it does. Somehow. Kind of like you and mummy.”

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?”

“You and mummy are so different. You’re really tall and big and she’s really short and small. Like, you know how mummy is a morning person? She’s always really cheerful and smiley? And you’re not? You’re moody and miserable. A total grump face! And you don’t like to talk until you’ve had your first coffee. With three shots of espresso in it.”

“You notice all that stuff?”

“I notice everything. Mummy says I’m very observant. And that I have really good instincts. Like you. She says ‘cause my tummy tells me if something is right or wrong. And yours does too. You know how else you and mummy are different?”

“How?”

“Mummy talks to everyone! She’s very talky talky. A chatterbox.”

“Geez,” Tyler grins, and tugs playfully at the completed pigtail. “I wonder who ELSE is a chatterbox?”

“She’s a social butterfly. She makes friends everywhere she goes. People like her. Because she’s so bubbly and cute and she makes peoples hearts feel warm because she’s so nice to them. You’re more serious. You don’t talk a lot. At least not to people you don’t know. People are scared of you sometimes. Because how big you are and because you got all the drawings on you and the scars and stuff. They think you’re mean. ‘Cause of all that.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think you’re just daddy. I KNOW you’re not mean. I KNOW you’re a nice guy. I KNOW you give awesome hugs; your arms are big but they feel nice and they wrap all the way around me! If people really paid attention, they’d see that you’re nice. You have soft eyes. They’re blue and they’re pretty and they’re kind. Especially when you smile and they go all crinkly. If people really gave you a chance, they’d see you’re not scary at all. You’re only like that if you HAVE to be. If bad people are near mummy or us kids.”

“Are you ever scared of me?” It’s a recurring thought; if his children ever pick up on the worry and the tension and the fear that comes with his issues. It’s a feat some days; forcing himself out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other. Wanting nothing more than to stay under the covers and surrender to the exhaustion that comes with doing battle with his own mind every day. But his family is his number one priority, whether it’s a good day or a horrible one. And he’ll ‘fake it until he makes it’ as long as his children and his wife know that they’re loved; provided and cared for and made to feel safe and protected.

“Why would I be? Why would I be scared of my daddy?”

“Well, you know what I do for a living. You know what I’ve had to do to people. Does that scare you?”

“Nope. Because that’s just your job. It’s not who you are. When you come home, you’re just daddy. You take us bike riding and hiking and swimming and surfing. And you help us find rocks and shells and you let me sit on your shoulders when we walk on the beach or go into town. And we take naps. On the hammock. I love our naps on the hammock.”

He smiles. “So do I.”

“Sometimes I get a little worried. When you get upset. Or you and mummy argue. I don’t like when you guys argue. I always worry that you’ll hate each other. That you’ll get a divorce. And then you won’t live with us. It makes me sad when I think about that.”

“You don’t need to be sad, Peanut. That’s never going to happen. I’m never going to go and live somewhere else. I’m going to stay right where I am; with you guys and your mumma. And just because we argue? That doesn’t mean we’re going to hate each other. I could NEVER hate your mum. And I’m pretty sure she’d say the same thing about me. We love each other. Very much. Divorce is NOT something you need to think about. But do I ever scare you? Have I ever?”

“I don’t have a reason to be scared of you. Because you love me. You’d never hurt me. I never worry about that. Not even when you yell and your voice gets REALLY loud. I know you’d never do anything mean to me. Just to bad people. And I’m not a person. I’m a GOOD person.”

“You definitely are. You’re a VERY good person. An amazing little person.”

She smiles. “Like mummy.”

“Just like her. More than even I ever realized.”

******

“Addie…” TJ singsongs as he saunters into the kitchen, both hands tucked behind his back. “...what are you doing?”

“Tyler!” She cheerfully greets, and excitedly waves to him with both hands. Her entire face lighting up at the sight of her second favourite male in the house

She’s become extremely close to her oldest brother during her five years on earth; idolizing him and turning to him for help and comfort when daddy is either caught up with one of the other kids, tending to work related matters, or out of the house -and sometimes even the country- all together. And TJ dotes on her in return. Spoiling her and babying her ever since she was an infant and he was always more than willing to help change her diapers and give her feedings. In awe of how tiny she was and how she’d look up at him with so much adoration. He’s the quintessential older brother; patient and loving and ready to kick anyone’s ass that dares messes with her.

“Look at my dress! It’s the one I picked out when I went shopping for mommy. That I kept a secret. Isn’t it awesome?”

“Awesome just like you. It’s really pretty, Ads. Your favourite colour too!”

“Yup! Mummy bought it for me. She said it’s perfect for me. For my personality. It reminds me of Belle’s dress. From Beauty and the Beast.”

“Looks a little like it, I guess. But you know what? It’s even prettier. And you’re more beautiful than Belle. WAY more beautiful.”

“Really?” she gasps, and a noticeable blush creeps into her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “You really think so?”

“I REALLY think so. Belle has nothing on you. You’re the prettiest princess EVER. Way prettier than ANY of them.”

“Oh goodness!” She clamps both hands over her mouth in embarrassment, then giggles into them. “Like mumma? Just as pretty as her? Mumma is the prettiest EVER.”

“Just a smaller version of her.” TJ leans in close and presses the tip of his nose against hers. “Guess what I have? What you forgot in my room?”

“Adeline!” she cries, when he reveals the item he’d been keeping behind his back. And she snags the doll from him and showers its head and face with kisses as she clutches it tightly to her chest. “Adeline! I’m sorry I forgot you! I didn’t mean to!”

“I kept her safe for you,” TJ says. “So Declan wouldn’t grab her. You know how he likes to get a hold of dolls and torture them. I didn’t want him getting her. She’s way too pretty and I know how much you love her.”

“He’s mean to my dolls! He’s always taking their heads off and putting their arms where their legs should be and crazy shit like that.”

“Hey,” Tyler frowns, and tugs on the half braided pigtail. “What did I say?”

“No bad language. Especially on Christmas Day. I can’t help it though; sometimes it just slips out. If you didn’t swear so much around us kids…”

“That’s it. Throw me under the bus.”

“You swear A LOT, daddy. Especially in the car. When other people don’t drive fast enough or use their blinkers. If mummy knew exactly how much you DO swear around us, she’d be mad. REALLY mad.”

“Your mum has a worse mouth than I do.”

“As if!” Addie scoffs, and he can’t help but smile; easily hearing Esme’s voice and picturing the expression on her face; the corner up her mouth and her nose scrunched up in disgust, eyes slightly narrowed. “Thank you, Tyler!” She curls an arm around her brother’s neck, squeezing as tight as she can. “You’re the best! Thank you for keeping her safe from the Ginger. You’re the best brother EVER! I only trust you with her. And daddy. That’s it. You guys are big and strong and will keep her safe no matter what.”

“What the hell are you wearing?” He addresses his son as the latter moves to the fridge, pausing in the braiding of Addie’s hair to survey TJ’s wardrobe a pair of ill fitting and impossibly baggy jeans, an enormous untucked dress shirt with its sleeves rolled to his elbows, and a loose pink, purple, and grey striped tie.

“Your pants. And one of your shirts.” TJ reaches into the fridge and grabs a carton of chocolate milk and a jug of white. Closing the door with his hip and carrying them to the counter by the sink; pouring a mix of both into a plastic tumblr retrieved from the dish rack and then snagging two straws from the cupboard. “Mum told me to. She said none of my clothes were good enough for Christmas dinner. All my jeans have holes in them and all t-shirts have to do with surfing. We’ve never had to dress up for Christmas dinner before. Why do we have to start now?”

“Your mum’s trying to make things perfect. To avoid drama. With your grandmother.”

“Too late. Grandma brings drama with her. And drops it on everyone else.” He drags a bar stool across the floor and places it in front of his little sister. “Here Ads,” he holds the cup in front of her. “A yellow straw just for you. So you don’t have to share my germs. Let me hold it; so you don’t spill anything on your dress.”

Giving a delighted squeal and a smile of appreciation, she takes a pull from the straw. “I think you look handsome, Tyler. You’re growing up. You’re going to be as big as daddy soon.”

“It’s going to be a while before I’m THAT big. But I’m going to work on it. As soon as I’m allowed, I’m going to lift heavy too and put on ALL kinds of muscle.”

“Then you can go after bad people too. And beat them up and kill them when you have to.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Tyler suggests. “Something tells me mummy might have an issue with that.”

“Why doesn’t mum just tell grandma to get lost?” TJ inquires. “It’s not like they like each other. They never have. They’ve always fought. I remember how they’d get into it at Christmas. When we were still living in Colorado. Grandma would get drunk and she’d pick fights with mum and mum would fight back and cry and then you’d go off on grandma. Is that going to happen this year? ‘Cause it’s been nice and quiet at Christmas. Do we HAVE to listen to grandma's shit?”

“What did I just tell your sister? About the language?”

“She’s five, but she’s right. It IS hard to stop and it does just come out. But do we, dad? Do we really have to put up with her?”

“It’s one night. I think you can manage. If I can grin and bear it, so can you. Suck it up.”

“If she starts in on mum about ANYTHING, I’m going to lose it. That’s my mum. No one talks to my mum like that. I almost taught Jacobi a lesson. For calling mum cute and wanting to ask her out. I’ll teach grandma a lesson too. I’m not afraid of her.”

“If anyone is going to teach her a lesson, it’s going to be me. You stay out of it. Your mum wouldn’t want you getting into it with her. You’re TEN.”

“Doesn’t matter how old I am. That’s MY mum. And no one is going to treat her bad. We’re supposed to protect her, remember? You and I.”

“You’re supposed to be a kid and stay that way as long as you can. I’M supposed to protect your mom. And I think I’ve been pretty damn good at it for the last twelve and a half years. And if your grandma starts? I’ll stop it. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why does she hate you so much anyway? Is it still the same crap? How she’s pissed because you stole mum away from her family and moved her all the way to Australia? ‘Cause you got her pregnant before you married her?”

Addie scowls. “Who cares? Lots of people have babies and they aren’t married. And so what if mummy didn’t go back home and she stayed with daddy? She’s an adult. She can do what she wants. And she wanted to be with daddy. None of grandma’s business. I’mma tell her that too. If she starts saying mean things about daddy or mummy. I’mma tell her what for.”

“You’re not going to do a thing,” Tyler informs her. “You’re going to leave all the telling off to me, got it?”

“I don’t like her,” Addie says. “She’s not a nice person. She has a mean smile. And her eyes are empty. They don’t sparkle or anything like that. Are you sure that’s mummy’s mummy? Because when mummy smiles, her eyes sparkle. She LOOKS happy. Grandma? She just looks mean.”

“No one likes her,” TJ grumbles. “Best thing we ever did was get away from her. But IS that why, dad? Is that really why she doesn’t like you? Because she still thinks you stole mum and took her all the way to Australia?”

“It’s a few things.”

“I bet it’s the job too. I bet she really has a problem with THAT.”

“Again…” Addie huffs dramatically. “...who cares? So what if daddy kills people? They’re BAD. They deserve it. He helps good people and sometimes when he’s helping them, he has to kill the bad guys. I don’t see a problem with that. If they try and hurt him or kill him, he HAS to kill them first. So he can come home. To us. And mummy. It only makes sense.”

“If Ads can get it, ANYONE can,” TJ says. “She’s only five. What’s grandma? A hundred? If a five year old can get it…”

“Daddy makes the world a better place because he gets rid of the bad people,” Addie continues, as she takes another sip of the drink her brother offers her. “If we had less bad people, everything would be great. There’d be less wars and less people getting hurt and everyone would love one another and be happy. Daddy’s doing a good thing. By sticking up for people. Like you do. At school. You beat up the bullies when you have to. Remember the older kid that tripped me and shoved my face in the mud? Remember him? He’s in grade eight AND you kicked the crap out of me. Because he picked on me.”

“You’re my sister. It’s my job to protect you.”

“And remember that other guy? On the playground by mummy’s store? The one that pulled my hair and told me I was adopted because I’m small and I don’t look like any of you guys. You freaked out on him and made him apologize and scared him away. He’ll cross the street now if he sees you coming.”

“You can’t let bad people get away with doing bad things,” TJ reasons. “If you don’t stop them, they’ll just keep doing bad stuff.”

“Exactly! So it’s a good thing that daddy goes after the bad guys. Grandma needs to learn. And she needs to learn TODAY. You should tell her, Tyler. You should tell her off. You’re not scared of anyone.”

“Not being scared of anyone or anything is not always a good thing,” Tyler informs her. “If you’re not scared, you don’t take a situation or people seriously. That’s when you get hurt. And you know what? No matter how big of a bad ass you think you are? There’s always a bigger one out there somewhere. Believe me. I’ve learned THAT lesson the hard way.”

“The guy who shot you just got a lucky one in,” TJ reasons. “You were already hurt. You weren’t one hundred percent. Some guy had already shot you, hadn’t he? A sniper?”

“What’s a sniper?” Addie inquires. “Is it like Swipper on Dora? Something like him?”

“We don’t need to talk about that,” Tyler says. “You don’t need to know that stuff. Not until you’re older. WAY older.”

“A sniper’s a guy that hides somewhere and shoots you,” TJ replies. “Somewhere where no one sees him. It’s why they’re so dangerous. You don’t even know where they are. They just shoot you. And they kill you before you even know what happened.”

“But daddy didn’t get killed. If a sniper shot daddy, shouldn’t he be dead?”

Combing his hand through her bangs, Tyler tips his daughter’s head back. “What did I just say? About you not needing to know about this stuff?”

“I’m curious now. Tyler said they hide and shoot people and kill them. How come you didn’t die? If a sniper shot you?”

“I guess he didn’t manage to get a good shot in.”

“It was the other guy that almost killed him,” TJ says, and takes a sip of the concoction in his hand. “The one that got him in the neck. That’s when he almost died. Mum saved him.”

“How? How did mummy save daddy? Daddy…” she swivels around in her stool to face him. “...how did mummy save you? Did she shoot the bad guy back?”

“Mum stuck her fingers in his neck,” TJ says. “To stop the bleeding. Or he would have bled to death.”

Addie’s eyes widen. “She DID?”

“When you’re older, MAYBE I’ll tell you more more about it. But for now…” Tyler places his hands on her shoulders and gently turns her back around. “...you don’t need to know this stuff. And you…” he stares pointedly at his son. “...don’t talk about this around her. She doesn’t need to know about this. She’s a baby still.”

“I’m not a baby!” Addie objects. “I’m five! I can almost ride my bike without training wheels. Babies can’t do that.”

“Just don’t, alright?” He addresses TJ. “Don’t talk about this stuff around her. Because she’s going to repeat all of this and she’s going to repeat it to your mum and that won’t end well. For you OR me.”

“It happened though. I mean, it’s part of how you guys met and got together and ended up getting married and stuff. It’s your history. I don’t see why…”

“I said ENOUGH. No more. Not around her. Got it?” He’s on edge; the mere mention of Dhaka and the incidents on the bridge playing straight into the anxiety and the panic he’d felt the night before; when he’d woken up from the nightmare and been on the verge of losing control and had turned to the fentanyl for relief. And it scares him; how easy it had been to not only access the powerful med, but actually take it. He’d encountered no resistance or hesitation; remorse and guilt not setting in until the following morning when he’d woken up and it had been the first thing on his mind. It’s alarming how quick things can return; an addict’s mind and behaviour.

Nodding, TJ holds his hands up in surrender.

“You’re both going to be nice tonight,” he says, and finishes Addie’s final braid. “To grandma. Because your mum is already stressed out enough and we don’t need to make it worse for her. So if the best you can do is smile and nod, just do that. I’m not asking you to kiss her ass. I’m just asking you to be civil. Can you handle that?”

TJ nods.

“You?” He tugs on one of Addie’s pigtails. “Can you do that? Be civil?”

“Do I have to be near her? Or sit on her lap? ‘Cause I draw the line there.”

“You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Just don’t be a little asshole, alright?”

“Me? I’m Mary Freaking Sunshine, remember? That’s what Grandpa Koen calls me.”

“Well then live up to it and be nice to your grandmother. Smile until your face hurts, got it?”

“What do I get out of it?”

He smirks.

“Mummy says to always negotiate. Never settle for the first offer. Can I sleep in the big bed tonight? For being nice to grandma?”

“No.” Wrapping an arm around her waist, he lifts her off the stool; pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her on the ground.

She turns to face him. Head cocked to the side and one hand clutching her doll, the other planted firmly on her hip. “Can I have ice cream for my bedtime snack?”

"Maybe."

“Maybe isn’t good enough.”

“You ARE just like your mom, aren’t you.”

“I’ll be nice if I can have ice cream for my bedtime snack and you snuggle with me and draw on my back for half an hour. And that’s after FOUR stories.”

“You're bossy, you know that? Two stories.”

“Three. That’s as low as I’ll go.”

“I will give you two stories, ice cream for your snack, and forty five minutes of snuggling and drawing on your back. Instead of half an hour. We got a deal?”

Her eyes narrow as she considers it; nibbling on her bottom lip and swishing her hips back and forth. “You’re good at this.”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, Peanut. I’ve dealt with tougher than you. What do you say?” He offers a hand. “Deal?”

“Deal!” she agrees, his hand easily swallowing hers as they shake on it.

Grinning, he runs a hand over the top of her head and then drops a kiss on her hair. “You really DO have a lot of your mum in you.”

“Great things come in small packages,” Addie reasons, standing on her tiptoes as he leans down and pecks her lips. “Thank you, daddy!” she chirps. “My hair looks beautiful. You always do it perfect.”

“Pretty hard not to when my subject is so cute. Good thing I married your mum, huh? So I could have a kid as cute as you?”

“You really are a lucky man!” she declares and then cheerfully skips out of the room.

“I hope grandma is on her best behaviour,” TJ says, as he finishes the drink in his hand and then slides off the stool and returns it to its place at the island. “Because if she DOES start on mum, it’s going to be a wild night. I really hope she watches her step.”

“My too, kiddo,” Tyler sighs, and reaches out to tousle his son’s hair. “Me too.”

[tobesensation-9]

hi~ i really love your writings 🥰👌🏼 anw, i want to request a scenario(?) when sf9 and s/o have to babysit their s/o's 3y.o niece for 24h? d-do you get what i mean.. 🥺 shsjdjsh i love you pls stay healthy and stay safe!!!!! 🥺🧡🙏🏼

This is so adorable 😍. I have nieces and one of them is three so this is soo cute to write! Thanks a lot and you too, stay strong 💪.

SF9: Babysitting Together

Youngbin

When you mentioned the news to him he was really excited. “Really? I’ll finally meet her!”

“Hi yn/n!” She’d run to you with her cute little legs while your sibling drops her off. You’d pick her up and turn to Youngbin so they can officially meet. Of course like a lot of little kids she’s nervous.

“Hi! My name is Youngbin. You’re so cute.”

She’d act timid not saying anything or waving at first because she was too busy hiding her face in your chest.

But as the day went on she and Youngbin became the closest friends. You started to get envious seeing that she was having more fun with him than she was with you.

“(The title she calls you) look at what Bin and I made?”

She’d come to you with a cookie in hand. You knew he wanted to make cookies with her. A brave task to take with a three-year-old, but he survived and had a ton of fun.

The cookie had the cuteness of what a toddlers art would looks like, only on a cookie. You took a piece and ate it in delight.

“Mmmm. It’s so good!” At your compliment she’d run over to Youngbin and hug him telling him how much you loved the cookie. He’d look up at you smiling and you smile back.

Inseong

This intellectual lol. Would definitely want to teach your niece a few things.

You’d be making them lunch in the kitchen when you see Inseong and your niece laying on the floor looking at a book.

It showed pictures of the different planets of the solar system. You loved how it wasn’t the ideal dolls and other ideal girl toys. So you loved it even more that she was really into it.

“What is this one called? It’s so biiiiiggg.”

“That’s Jupiter. Did you know it’s the largest planet in the solar system?”

“WHATTT?”

He’d end up taking her to the store and coming back after getting supplies to make their own solar system model. 

They’d talk about all sorts of things until her bedtime approached. She’d would definitely be reluctant unless he read more books to her as she fell asleep.

Jaeyoon

He’s always doing crafty things on vlive, so I see him making bracelets with her. When you told him he’d make the effort to buy all sorts of charms at the arts and crafts store. Wanting to give her a huge variety to choose from.

“So you’d add them like this.” The three of you are sitting at the table adding the charms to your bracelets.

“I don’t know what to add?” You could tell that he took the variety so seriously it kinda overwhelmed her.

“Well.... what about this one?” He’d pick a crown charm. “A crown?”

“Yeah, because your beautiful princess.”

“Yay a princess!” She’d end up making a bracelet with nothing but crowns, shoes and dresses, on it reminding you guys every 10 minutes that she was a beautiful princess.

You’d definitely have to buy her a crown before the day was over.

Dawon

After seeing how he interacted with the kids on ‘WDDD’ Dawon has an even bigger soft spot in my heart. Similar to the concept of his variety show, he'd try to complete every task that your niece requests, even the one’s he may not like 😂 ...

“What color do you like? I like purple on you.” 

“Ahhh....okay that's fine. That shade is pretty so I’ll let you.” 

“It is! I knew you'd like it!” 

You’d walk in on your niece giving Sanghyuk a make over. His hair was tied and two disheveled ponytails, with cutely and messy done makeup and now she was polishing his nails. He seemed to do a good job of making sure she didn’t make a mess of anything. But instead, his face was her creative canvas. 

“Oh you look so pretty!” You teased him, sitting in his stool, glaring at you and smiling back at your niece through the pain. 

Also see him giving her piggyback rides running all of over the play with with her squealing and laughing delight.

Zuho

Like Inseong, I see him sharing his knowledge and interest with your niece and she suck all of it up like a sponge. I’ve learned that young kids are so receptive and willing to learn new things all the time, its too cute. I also had to take the idea from SF9 Sangsa (the new episode was priceless 😂). 

So he’d be making music on one of her piano toys and she'd be so astounded.  

“Wait can you do that again?” 

“What this?” 

He’d play a short and cute segment of the chorus of ‘Summer Breeze’ and she’d love it and bounce around dancing like how cute toddlers are. He’d be jumping around and dancing with her too. He’d even be trying to teach her at one point, with her hitting all the wrong keys and laughing together. 

From all the excitement she’d have him playing the same melody from the song until she had gotten tired of it. 

Rowoon

I see Seokwoo really just trying to engage with your niece. Like he’d bring up different topics or she’d bring up different things and they'd be talking and playing for hours. 

You’d laugh at how inquisitive your niece would get. Seeing their interactions would tickle you to your core. 

“Mr. Seokwoo?” 

“Call me Uncle Seokwoo”. This would make you snicker 

He’d be sitting next to her, leaning to her giving her all his attention. 

“Uncle Seokwoo, are you a giant?” 

He’d chuckle, “Am I a giant?” 

“Yeah. You’re so big. I was scared when I first saw you. Because you look like a giant.” 

“Well, I guess you can call me that. You don’t have to be scared. I’m the nicest giant you'd meet.” He’d poke her nose and flash her a smile. She’d giggle and they'd giggle together. 

It was so cute and funny how quick she warmed up to him and how his charms can work on anyone. 

Taeyang

Taeyang just seems so gentle and tender. I think any kid would love him. Of course I think he would try to cook with her or teach her some dance moves. They’d be in a separate room, and you'd hear him playing tons of SF9 songs teaching her some of the dances. Of course modifying them to make the easier for her.

“Like this?’ She’d ask. 

“Yeah, just like that. You really got the hang of it!” 

In the living room where you were you’d see your niece running out of the room with Taeyang walking behind

“Can we you show you the dances Taeyang taught me?” 

“Sure go ahead.” 

With a speaker in hand, Taeyang would start playing ‘Life is so Beautiful’ which you’d assume was her favourite song to dance too since you heard this one the most. 

She’d look back a Taeyang the entire time laughing with the biggest smile on her face. 

Hwiyoung

For some reason I see him having playful banter with your niece. Younger kids can't help but be honest. I think that would poke at his sensitive side and it would turn into playful banter. 

“Youngkyun, where are your sleeves?” 

She’d be touching his arm. He was wearing one of his iconic no-sleeve, chuffed shirts 

“It doesn't have any.” 

“Why? It’s cold outside. You’re gonna get sick.” 

“I wore a jacket yn/n”. 

“Thats not warm enough. Find your sleeves”. 

“I told you it’s not supposed to have them.” 

You’d see them talking and see him getting flustered by the bluntness of a three-year-old. 

He’d look at you, flushed, but trying to laugh it off 😅😂.

Chani

I see him and your niece having a competition to see who’s the cutest for your attention. Like an aegyo contest. 

She’d come up to you just being a natural cutie pie telling all the things she’s doing and you praising her for it. And right after to play with her he’d tap you and do some of his famous aegyo and turning to her for a reaction. 

Not realising herself she’d try acting cuter for the rest of the day. 

“Look (your title)! My dress looks super cute with all the glitter!” 

“Look y/n, aren’t my cute eyes and cheeks cuter’, you’d just scoff at him and you’d see your niece just starring at him tapping you to tell you something that she thinks was better.

Even with this little competition they’d get along perfectly. That’s just the nature of Chani he seems to get along well with anyone.  

Extra points 

- I also think that some of them wouldn’t have any trouble putting her to sleep like Jaeyoon, Inseong, Rowoon and Taeyang. But I think the rest of them would need your help with that. 

- Even for those who would have trouble, she’d most likely take a nap next to or leaning on them instead of you before the day was over

- (Definitely see Rowoon, Zuho, Taeyang, and Youngbin just picking her up and laying her on his chest if they were sitting in the coach next to you). 

- Your niece would also want ideal food that kids would like, like pizza and chicken nuggets in the shape of dinosaurs. And all of then would agree with her, especially Zuho. 

- I see you trying to disagree and suggest something else but they end up chanting for dinosaur nuggets together 

- And not forgetting their juice or milk boxes that you’d serve both of them. 

[wickednerdery]

Title: The Guest Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: The Night Manager Pairing/character: Jonathan Pine/OC Rating: Teen Summary: “You go alone? At this hour?” Notes: This is something that’s been bouncing in my brain for, like, almost a year (on-and-off)…still not sure I have more than snapshots, but it finally came out onto paper just now lol!

First Chapter

Pine jolts awake, covered in sweat with tight chest and pounding heart. If he didn’t know what it was, if he’d not had them over the years, he’d have thought it a heart attack. He groans himself up, swings legs over edge of bed and puts head between. He runs through the hotels he’s worked in to himself, skipping only the Nefertiti. He repeats them over and over until some semblance of calm returns. Then Jonathan sighs. All that work on setting a routine, putting the past behind him, undone by one little incident. Hopefully it’s a blip, a singular attack, and not the return to a nightly pattern. 

With deep sigh he stands, tosses on swim trunks and hoodie. He knows he’s not going back to sleep, not after that, so he steps into trainers, grabs keycard and towel, and heads out. He takes the nearest exit, walks the grounds outside, to reach the pool. He’s still shaking slightly as he folds and sets clothing on plastic chair.

Breath is visible in the chill of the morning. The ocean hums in the distance, crickets carry on, but the daylight has yet to reach the grounds. Jonathan enjoys the privacy of it, takes in cold air until his shivers only come from the exhilaration of it. When he feels ready, feels right, Jonathan discreetly dives in.

He lets out his shock at the cold, his lingering frustrations, while still underwater. Screaming bubbles surface before he does. Looking around there’s nothing but increased birds chirping and sun finally cutting through the trees. He is still alone, blissfully, but terribly, alone. Jonathan goes under again, his back skimming the surface as he does laps until he hasn’t the air to continue the pace.

“Was the gate unlocked?” She asks with neither amusement nor upset.

Jonathan turns to find her at the other end of the pool. “Yes.” Then his face goes troubled. “I’m sorry, is it not open?”

“Apparently, it is.” Kay’s lips finally lift as she starts to walk towards his end. “I told May to lock it before bed, I should’ve checked.” So much for giving her daughter more responsibility at the hotel.

“I do apologize.” He starts to get up, out, the steam of warm body hitting cold morning rising from his skin. Muscles stutter and tense in the cold, but he presses on.

“Don’t worry about it.” She grabs a pool towel for him. “I’m sure Mrs Regan had her best morning here.” Kay tosses towel with a smile.

He catches it with confused look before following Kay’s eyes to a balcony room overlooking the pool just as its door closes. He chuckles. “I hope this doesn’t count as making trouble in your hotel, Ms Lin.”

“Oh no, Mr Ashland, this is entertainment.” She laughs. “Would you care for any coffee, Mr Ashland?”

“You may call me, Jonathan, if you wish.”

“Alright then, Jonathan. I’m Kay. Coffee, Jonathan?”

“Perhaps we can have one together?”

“I’m going for a run.” Only now does he realize her outfit, the athlesuire wear and trainers. Hair usually tightly wound is more relaxed, in ponytail. “But I can get the coffee before I go.”

“No. No, it’s fine.”

“Okay then.”

He towels hair, watching her start to go, before being unable to help himself. “You go alone? At this hour?”

“Always.” She senses his implication. “Don’t worry, the biggest risks are the early morning drivers and I've got my reflective jacket for that.”

“I could...join you?”

“Are you asking or offering?”

“Whichever offends you less.”

Kay smiles, indulges him and her own curiosity. “Tell you what, lock up for me here, get dressed, and meet me at the main desk.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, god, no,” she laughs. “No, no, don’t ever call me that. I start getting “ma’am’d”, I won’t know what I’ll do with myself!” Kay’s laugh lingers even after she’s back inside.

Jonathan chuckles, makes sure the padlock is secure in place, and heads back to his room with a smile. He doesn’t bother to ask himself why he made the offer, if that’s what it was. He’s not yet willing to dwell in the possibility he’s lonely or scared after his night terror. Jonathan is not thinking on whether or not he wants to be with her or just anyone. He just knows he wants to jog with Kay and that if he lets her go alone he won’t feel right the rest of the day.

***

They run together and alone. Enjoying shared silence, each one in their own head, as they move side-by-side, in synch. Pine thinks about his troubles, if he might ever outrun them. Kay thinks about the ones coming if the men return before she can find a safe place for Ricky.

Pine stops when Kay does, panting with her down at the center of town. He straightens up, looks around, then smiles. “Coffee.”

“Coffee.” She smiles, slips in with him behind as she catches breath. “Morning Joe!”

Joseph beams. “Every time.”

“Without fail.”

“The usual?”

“Yes, also...” She turns to Jonathan, expectantly. 

“Just a medium coffee, black, please.” There’s a plethora of options on a separate counter, he’ll adjust for himself.

Kay shrugs. “You heard the man.”

“What about a treat for our favorite month?”

“No, just the coffees today.” She won’t to reward May’s shoddy chore work.

Back outside, coffees in hand, they walk the shuttered town. Jonathan scans for threats, listens for cars and dangerously important conversations...all those things he can’t stop doing nowadays. It isn’t until Kay settles onto a bench at the main bridge that he lets himself relax a touch beside her. He keeps to one end, her on the other, with enough space for ten coffees.

“Are you still keeping your reservation open-ended?” She asks, sipping the overly sweet latte she favors.

“If that’s all right.”

“Of course.”

“I am sorry about this morning.”

“Are you this apologetic naturally or is it the years of customer service?”

“A bit of both, I suppose.” He smiles into the rising sun. “How long have you run Squall’s End?”

“About five years. It was my parents, but they retired and left it to me.”

“Are they still alive?”

“Yep, just moved down to Florida. They said it was part of their American dream.” She laughs a bit. “We stay with them during most the winter, when tourist season ends here.”

“I see.”

She looks to him. “If you’re still around, I’ll find you accommodations until we return, don’t worry.”

“No, no, it’s no trouble.”

“Exactly. No trouble.”

He smiles, sips his coffee. He holds himself back until he finishes the cup. “Those men who dropped by yesterday -”

“I told you, I don’t discuss and I don’t ask.”

“Will they be back?” He presses on to the point. “Will you and your daughter be in danger if they do?”

Kay isn’t sure how to answer, isn’t sure she has the answer. She focuses on her coffee, only responding when she senses him shifting in preparation to speak again. “Men like them might threaten, intimidate, but they won’t do anything to get on police radar.”

“Are you certain of that, Kay?”

She gulps cold latte, stands with a sigh to toss cup in recycling, then looks down at him. “It’s not something you need to worry about, Jonathan. You’re my guest, not the other way around.”

He smiles up at her, she smiles back. They both know he’ll worry anyway, that he’s already worrying. He’s just that type.

**

Apparently writing the first one unleashed more so...yay? So, the new OC’s full name is Kai-Lee Lin, but goes by Kay because it’s easier. She’s Asian-American, moving to the States with her parents when very young then becoming a citizen (probably around her teens/20s). Her daughter, May, is about ten or eleven and I’m sure she’ll show up later. ...And that’s all I’m saying for now lol! 

(Gif found from Google!)

Tagging Who Might Care: @lady-crowned-with-stars @holykryptonitekitten @ultrarebelheart @chibiyanai @beccaliciooouuusss​​ @michellearel1​​ @sweetfictionalworld @lukeevansandjdmobession @lokilvrr @rizzo87 @alexakeyloveloki @wintertink @moonfaery @annievvv7 @creedslove @wadeyouwitch @cassadius @tarithenurse​ @kellatron55​ @coppercorn-and-cauldron​

[fumiko-matsubara]

How D.R.E.A.M. performs live

An elaborate sequel to this old post and oneshot!

Even if Chiba and Ayaka were no longer members of the light music club, there are plentiful of reasons why they were still able to perform with the others as a fixed band:

 As per Ayaka’s suggestion, starting from last year after the cultural festival, it became a long-running part of the club’s activities for its members to perform at a live house on the other side of Kunugigaoka town, which was owned by Ayaka’s family, every other Saturday night.

Even without Chiba and Ayaka anymore, Miho, Eiji, and Daisuke could’ve still been a three-man band due to their respective instruments and that all three of them can sing. However, none of them can play and sing at the same time.

They couldn’t join their other club members because all of them already had fixed bands of their own.

So, they really need the former two in order to perform.

Hence, Ayaka and Chiba, despite both being out of the club, can still perform with them as “place holder members” during club activities, even if both are permanent members of the band.

If there was ever an unwritten rule in Kunugigaoka against a Class E student being a placeholder member during club activities, there is still little to nothing to worry about. This is because very few people only knew that the lead guitarist from DREAM and Ryuunosuke Chiba from 3-E are the same person, and it’s going to stay that way unless Chiba decided to expose himself.

Daisuke has his own studio located near the station, and it’s where the band practices every after school, since they can’t practice in their clubroom anymore. This is because, even if she’s a school alumnus, Ayaka is still an outsider, and being a student in Class E, Chiba is not allowed inside the main campus.

The advisor of the light music club had approved of the arrangement because a) DREAM performs the longest in the live house and is the most popular among the three fixed bands in the club, b) the school wouldn’t have to provide another separate practice room for them, and c) as mentioned above, it is easier for the former club members to meet up and join practice.

How each DREAM members perform live:

Let me cut to the chase, when I say that this is one chaotic band, they’re hella CHAOTIC. They’re just so hyped and wild that you’re gonna get tired from just watching them move around so much. Every other Saturday night, they would always perform 5 songs in one show, with 4 of them being either upbeat or straight up aggressive, and 1 acoustic interlude. Miki, who soon became their personal stylist after being commissioned once, had to be very selective of what she should do to each member.

Ayaka Kitazawa (Main Vocalist)

Ohhh boy. Here we go.

This girl is just fucking WILD af onstage, as she is also the band’s main performer.

She jumps a lot, she runs a lot, and she just moves around so much like a maniac.

Her voice is aggressively strong and impossibly stable- she will violently head bang like crazy while belting out a difficult high note at the same time.

And when I say she head bangs like crazy, she really head bangs like crazy. Put her hair in a tight ponytail? Nah, that ponytail is long gone in less than 5 seconds after the song started playing.

Her skirt is just as impossibly stable as her voice. For three years, never once did it flutter up even if she was always wildin’ onstage.

She always finds a moment to play with her mic in the middle of a performance: flipping it and twirling it with her fingers if it’s wireless, swinging it around if it’s not, and if it’s on a mic stand, she’d carry the stand itself.

Also, wild hair flipping.

Miho Shimada (Drummer)

This one is also WILD af.

Continuous head banging during a much hyped song.

No matter the song, for the band’s live rendition, Miho will always have her own drum solo at the very beginning, and she will fucking kill it.

Because she’s already physically strong and her drumming is really powerful, expect that she’s gonna break at least three drumsticks in just one song.

The quickest she had broken a stick so far was 10 seconds into the first song.

She also plays with them whenever she gets a short break during a song.

One of her cymbals once fell down during a performance since she hit it too hard.

Ryuunosuke Chiba (Lead Guitarist)

Ugh where do I even start with this guy?

Let’s just say that he’s even WILDER.

He doesn’t just head bang, he fucking throws his whole body around.

He moves around the stage just as much as Ayaka does, even jumping while pulling off a riff.

You know he’s gonna pull off a difficult riff when he steps on one of the speakers. And he will MURDER it.

Even though he’s also on backing vocals, sometimes he just gets too wild that he forgets that he’s also supposed to sing at the same time.

Because he aggressively moves a lot, his hair could easily get back in front of his face, thus increasing the chances of people recognizing him. To avoid that from happening, Miki just hair-sprayed the parting of his hair like crazy until it’s very stiff. Hence Chiba’s hair would just go back to how it’s usually styled even after all the violent self-throwing.

He also interacts with Ayaka a lot mid performance since they’re the ones who move around the most, by either obviously sharing a knowing look, mouthing the lyrics with her, or aggressively head banging together in unison.

In contrary to how soft and calming his normal speaking voice was, Chiba’s signature vocal technique when he occasionally sings his own lines is hella strong and raspy, especially when he pushes out a note.

So, yeah. On stage Chiba is a full 180 turn.

Eiji Fukiyose (Bassist)

“I don’t even stand out that much mid performance because of my position anyways. So I’m not gonna waste my energy jumping around like a maniac.” – 1st Year Eiji

Lol he thought.

He’d be the first among the four to run to the stage while Miho was doing her opening solo.

And while he’s talking a short break from playing mid performance, he will hype the crowd out, even guiding them on how they’re going to swing their hands or do their chanting.

Obviously, he is going to be the least tired among the band after a song, since he wasn’t as wild as the other four.

But he still joins them when head banging together at the same time.

Daisuke Terushima (Rhythm Guitarist)

Daisuke was also the band’s keyboardist and used to play it a lot more in his second year. But he has been playing the guitar a lot more often nowadays until it’s what he only plays onstage.

Because he’s the youngest and was the newest member of their band, most of his onstage performances where influenced by the older members.

He head bangs just as wild, sometimes even throwing himself around, runs and jumps around the stage, and also hypes the crowd along with Eiji. But unlike the others, he doesn’t look crazy doing any of those, but just more energetic and pumped.

He’s basically a ball of high energy.

In conclusion, this band is W I L D.

[keichanz]

Another Day in Hell || Ch. 4

I was gonna post this chapter on Halloween, but between moving into my house, cleaning, moving the last of my crap outta my apartment, and just generally running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything done, I completely forgot about it lol. Better late than never, I suppose. 

Read on AO3. Ch. 1 || Ch. 2 || Ch. 3 || Ch. 4

And with that, Inuyasha strapped his black bladed combat knife to his hip and retrieved Tessaiga from its designated resting place on the wall, tying it with practiced ease at his opposite hip.

“Training won’t start right away for a number of reasons,” he said, reaching onto the top shelf of the bookcase and bringing down the shotgun. “The first being your shoulder, so for now I just want you to rest and concentrate on getting better. We’ll work out the details after you meet everyone and get settled at the dojo.”

Kagome nodded as he slung the firearm over his shoulder so it hung across his back. Her eyes followed him as he picked up some trash bags propped against the wall and when he started for the door in the ceiling that opened into the back room of the store, Kagome’s blood turned to ice and the color drained from her face. Oh, god—was he going somewhere?

“I gotta take this trash and dump it in the pit,” Inuyasha announced, confirming her fears as he reached up and shoved the door open with a grunt. “If I don’t the basemen will start to reek, you and I both don’t want that, and I can’t leave it outside the store either. The stench will attract unwanted attention from both undead and demons sniffing around for a place to take over, and I wanna avoid that if possible.”

A distressed sound echoed in her throat as Kagome hastily stood up as Inuyasha tossed one bag then the other up and out the door.

“I won’t be long,” he continued as she stumbled over to him as fast as her weakened body would allow. “Just fifteen minutes or so, twenty tops. Stay here and—”

“No!”

Small hands latched onto his shirt and Inuyasha stumbled back in surprise, looking down to find Kagome holding onto him for dear life and he was alarmed to find genuine fear in those dark eyes of hers.

He frowned. “What—”

“Don’t go, please,” she begged him, her grip so tight on his shirt her knuckles were white.

Inuyasha sighed and shook his head. “I have to take this trash out, Kagome. My nose is a little more sensitive than yours and—”

“Then take me with you,” she urgently beseeched, her voice holding a desperate edge that gave him pause. Pleading brown locked onto thoughtful amber and she swallowed thickly. “Please, Inuyasha, don’t leave me here.”

His frown deepened and his stomach clenched uncomfortably when he detected a trace amount of fear underlining her scent. What the hell?

“I can’t, Kagome. Not with your shoulder like that. You won’t be able to hang on, and I’ll only be on a few minutes—”

“Please.” Kagome looked on the verge of tears and he stiffened. “Please, Inuyasha, even if it is only for a few minutes, I can’t...I can’t be alone again. Don’t leave me alone, please.”

Her grip tightened on his shirt, her bottom lip trembled, and Inuyasha’s resolved broke. Fuck.

Heaving a sigh and thrusting a hand through his short hair, Inuyasha’s features twisted into a light scowl, not entirely happy about this, but figuring he had no choice. Obviously there was some mental scars that she’d hidden well until this point and he’d feel like a colossal asshole if he left Kagome like this when she obviously didn’t want to be alone for any amount of time, even going so far as to beg him to take her with him. So he’d just have to make some slight adjustments is all and be extra vigilant.

Damn those big brown eyes and full pink lips.

“Fine,” he grumbled, his disapproval evident in the scowl he directed at her, but she was unaffected, face brightening into a pleased smile. “You can come with me but you have to listen and do exactly as I say, alright? Do not question me. If I say run, you fucking run. If I say grab my gun and shoot, pull the trigger and shoot. Understand?”

Nodding eagerly and trying not to think about what could happen if he told her to do any of that, Kagome beamed at him, relieved that he’d agreed and she wouldn’t be left alone. Perhaps it was ridiculous, especially when he’d said he’d only be gone for about fifteen minutes, but Kagome didn’t think she could take the solitude for even that short amount of time. She truly hoped she’d be able to get over this unfounded fear of being alone fairly quickly, and with Inuyasha’s help, along with his friends, Kagome was confident she would.

“I will,” she told him, dark eyes earnest as she gazed up into his stern face. “I promise. Thank you, Inuyasha. I just...” She sighed. “Thanks.”

Whiskey colored eyes studied her quietly, searching, calculating, and he gave a curt nod.

“Wait here.”

Her eyes widened and before she could object, he said, “I’m just going up to put the bags outside, get the four-wheeler ready, and get rid of any roamers that are too close. Five minutes, Kagome. I’ll be quick.”

Kagome bit her lip, clearly hesitant, but she nodded and released him, stepping back.

Nodding, Inuyasha didn’t spare her another glance before bending his knees and launching himself up and out of the basement.

Already Kagome could feel the silence pressing in on her, the cold seeping into her bones and to distract herself she searched for something to secure her arm and keep it stabilized. If they were going to be riding on a four-wheeler, no doubt it was going to be bumpy and she was going to need her other hand to hold onto something so she didn’t fall. She didn’t think Inuyasha would let her, but she didn’t want to seem completely helpless.

Wrinkling her nose, Kagome dug around in his box of clothes and pulled out an old button down flannel that would have to do. She sat down and had just managed to fashion the shirt into a homemade sling when Inuyasha returned as promised.

He raised his brows in surprise when he saw what she was doing then nodded his approval, walking over and helping her situate her arm. He tightened the knot, made sure her arm was tight against her side, and studied his handiwork.

“Good thinking,” he praised and his face softened at her proud smile. “You ready?”

“Wait.” Digging around in her jean’s pocket, Kagome withdrew a hairband and using only one hand, she tried to gather her hair and pull it up into a haphazard ponytail. “I don’t want it flying in my face and hindering my sight.”

Inuyasha watched, slightly amused, as she tried and failed to gather up her mass of thick raven hair to secure it together before finally taking pity with a sigh and moving behind her.

“Give it here,” he mumbled, batting her hand away and wiggling his fingers for the band. Sheepishly and with a grumble she handed it over and he slipped it around his wrist before combing his claws through her hair in an attempt to get some of the tangles out.

Kagome figured he’d just shove it all up into a ponytail liked she’d originally planned, so when she felt him divide it into sections and begin to plait it, she blinked in surprise and couldn’t stop the pleased smile from curling her lips upward.

“I didn’t peg you for someone who knew how to braid,” she said, only half-teasingly.

“Used to have long hair,” Inuyasha grunted, eyes focused on his task. “Before it all went down. While I wasn’t an instructor at S and S, occasionally I gave demonstrations for the lessons and I learned to braid to keep it out of my face. Then shit hit the fan and it was just easier to chop it all off then to continue braiding it.”

Kagome made a sound of acknowledgement as he took the band around his wrist and twisted it around the end of the thick braid he’d created. It definitely wasn’t the best since he was a little out of practice, but it would hold together and that’s what mattered, he supposed. Especially since she was going to be in front of him and not behind him on the AVT. He didn’t want her hair in his face and impeding his own sight.

“There,” he rumbled and gave her hair a soft tug. “You’re all set. Ready to go?”

Running her hand down the length of her new braid, Kagome beamed at him over her shoulder and nodded.

“Ready.”

He led her over to the door and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her in front of him. Inuyasha glared down at her, eyes drilling into her own.

“Exactly. As. I. Say. Capeesh?”

Kagome rolled her eyes but nodded. “Yes, Inuyasha, I will do exactly as you say. I promise.”

Grumbling under his breath, and hoping he wasn’t making a grave mistake, Inuyasha tightened his hold around her and launched them both up into the storage room, ignoring her squeak of surprise and the way her arm snapped around his neck. He landed softly on his feet, released her, and gestured her to follow with a jerk of his head before heading toward the loading docks.

Kagome dutifully followed behind, quickening her steps to catch up to him and for the first time noticing the dried blood that stained the concrete floor. She blanched and forced her eyes up, landing on Inuyasha’s board back in front of her. She was going to have to get used to that, she realized; all the blood and other unpleasantness that accompanied death.

Kagome valiantly hoped she’d be able to stomach it.

Inuyasha was waiting for her at a metal door beside the closed truck bay doors and Kagome frowned when she reached them.

“Wait, if this place has a back door, why do you need the one on the roof?”

“The roof door is plan B if this exit gets compromised,” Inuyasha answered lowly, cracking open the door and peering outside. He’d checked beforehand, but it was always better to err on the side of caution. “Also some of the others are human and can’t jump like me, so this is their primary entrance and exit. I just use the roof door because it’s faster and easier.”

She blinked. “Oh.” Well, that made sense.

“It’s clear,” he rumbled and shot a look at her over his shoulder. “ATV’s just outside. You good?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Kagome nodded and took a step closer, trying to calm her nerves. Perhaps it would have been a better idea if she’d stayed behind...

Easily sensing her distress, Inuyasha frowned and hedged, “If you wanna head back...”

Kagome closed her eyes, deliberated, and shook her head. “No,” she mumbled. “No, I—I’m okay. Let’s go.”

He still looked like he didn’t believe her, but thankfully didn’t make her go back, so Kagome counted it as a small victory. She waited for him to open the door, but when he continued to stand there and frown at her, Kagome raised her brows in wordless inquiry.

Inuyasha sighed, made a face, and thrust a hand through his short hair. “One more thing.”

Kagome resisted the urge to groan, however she did roll her eyes. “Inuyasha—”

“Just shut up and listen. I wouldn’t say anything if it wasn’t important.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kagome gestured for him to continue with a wave of her hand and went to cross her arms, belatedly remembered she couldn’t, so settled for propping her hand on her hips as she waited for him to say whatever he thought was important.

“Look, since the world has gone to shit, who you are, your identity, is pretty much the only thing you have left that you can really call yours anymore,” Inuyasha began, not bothering to beat around the bush. “It’s extremely important that you protect it at all times when you’re not around those you trust.”

Kagome’s brow furrowed. “Who can’t I trust?”

Even as she said it, Kagome wanted to kick herself. She’d already made the stupid mistake to trust somebody right off the bat and ended up with a freaking bullet in her shoulder. So basically, trust no one but Inuyasha.

“Anyone that’s not me or the others,” Inuyasha replied, confirming her thoughts. “I know you haven’t met them, but I can vouch for them. It’s dangerous out there, Kagome, and I’m not just talking about the undead. Just because you don’t see anything doesn’t mean it’s safe; demons are excellent at concealing their presence and like to eavesdrop. I’ve also run into a few murder-happy whackjobs that masquerade as a deadie to get close before springing a surprise attack you aren’t expecting coming from something that’s not supposed to have any higher brain function.”

Kagome’s mouth dropped in astonishment and he grinned wryly.

“Yeah. I know. So you have to constantly be on your guard, because if someone knows who you are, who you really are, they will take everything you hold dear to you and use it against you. Family, friends, a lover—anything they can think of.”

She could feel the color draining out of her face as her eyes went very wide. “B-but...my family...I don’t even know—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Inuyasha cut her off, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “Evil things have resources we don’t. They aren’t afraid to play dirty to get what they want, use tricks, blackmail, and bribery to obtain otherwise unknown information. Never underestimate your enemy because it could mean your death.”

Kagome gasped and Inuyasha grimaced, but he didn’t take it back. “I don’t mean to scare you,” he rumbled, lifting his hand to rub her arm soothingly. “I just wanna prepare you. Do you understand? Why you can’t reveal your name or who you are?”

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat that was making it a tad harder to breath, Kagome nodded.

Inuyasha didn’t like how pale she looked, but continued anyway.

“Alright. One more thing: when we’re out there, you can’t call me Inuyasha. I’m Ash outside these walls. Likewise I won’t call you Kagome, and I don’t have a name for you yet, but it doesn’t matter right now. Everyone at the dojo has an alias too, and we use them while radioing as well. The channels aren’t secure and anyone could be listening in so better to be safe than sorry.”

Inuyasha gave her a minute to digest everything and watched her face carefully, really hoping that it wouldn’t dissuade her from wanting to come back with him and learn how to protect herself. Probably he could have gone a little lighter on some of the details, but he needed her to understand the importance of what he was saying, stressing that a slip of the tongue could mean life or death.

And maybe he should have been alarmed that it hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours and she was already growing on him, but he didn’t allow himself to dwell on that for long. Kagome was still staring up at him with wide cinnamon eyes, clearly trying to come to terms with this new information, and he opened his mouth to tell her that maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea for her to go with him after all if she was still shaken.

But then she blinked, took a deep breath, and her expression cleared before she gave a curt nod.

“Okay,” she breathed, locking gazes with him. “Yes. I understand. I’ll...be careful, be on my guard and vigilant. Trust no one but you and your friends. Assume nowhere is safe. I got it.”

Relaxing slightly, relieved she was taking this seriously, Inuyasha asked, “What’s my name?”

Her lips twitched. “Ash.”

Finally he allowed a small grin to surface and he nodded in approval. “Good. I don’t think you’ll have to use it since you won’t be out of my sight, but again, better to be safe.”

Kagome nodded and giving her shoulder a squeeze, Inuyasha finally opened the door the rest of the way and gestured for her to go first. Kagome slipped outside and he followed, closing it softly behind him. He walked over to a dirty forest-green four-wheeler just a few paces away with a small utility trailer attached behind it holding the trash bags.

“You’ll be sitting in front of me,” he told her, eyeing a few scattered roamers that were too far away to notice them. “I don’t like that you only have one hand to hold on, so being in front will—what?”

Frozen to the spot just before the door, Kagome wasn’t looking at him but somewhere in the distance, her pale face stricken and dark eyes wide. He followed her gaze and cursed. She’d noticed them too, the undead wandering aimlessly around, unaware of them – for now – and he hoped it stayed that way.

Walking back over to her, Inuyasha put himself in front of her, blocking her view of them, and took her shoulders in his hands. Kagome started, gasping as her gaze flew up to his, and he frowned at her pale face and wide eyes.

“Don’t look at them,” he murmured and gently guided her over to the four-wheeler. “Don’t pay them any attention. They haven’t noticed us yet, and even if they do, they’re far enough away where we can easily outrun them. They’re slow as hell and we have a four-wheeler and guns. I’ll keep you safe. I promise. Just trust me, alright?”

Willing her heartbeat to calm and her trembling to stop, Kagome closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, her good hand fisting in his shirt. Inuyasha kept an eye on the undead until she regained her composure and was glad when just a few seconds later she relaxed and released a shaky sigh.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding once. “Okay. I’m sorry, I just—”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, shaking his head. “I get it. Now c’mon, before they see us. You first. I’ll sit behind you to keep you from falling, and it’ll make me feel a little better because I can see you, besides.”

Something warm bloomed in Kagome’s chest at that and she hid her smile by quickly turning and climbing aboard the ATV, swinging her leg over and settling in the cracked leather seat. Inuyasha swung up behind her and she blushed at having him so close, his chest pressing against her back, and she tried to regulate her breathing so she didn’t have to answer any awkward questions. She succeeded for the most part and now only had to worry about her red face.

“Good?” he rumbled in her ear, trying very hard to ignore how nice it felt to have her pressed against his chest, his thighs cradling her small form and her scent in his nose.

“Yes,” Kagome squeaked and satisfied, he leaned forward, turned the key, and shifted into drive.

“Hang on,” he growled and eased up on the throttle, feeling Kagome tense against him and her hand fist in his jeans as they took off.

Keeping half of his attention on where they were going so he didn’t end up running over something dead and end up showering both in blood and guts, Inuyasha kept the other half of his attention trained on the woman in front of him. Pressed so closely against him, he could feel how tense she was and a quick glance at the small hand fisted tightly in his jeans at his thigh revealed a white knuckled grip. Unsurprisingly the bitter smell of fear stung his nose, but it was a trace amount, a minor footnote in the natural pleasantness of her scent that he’d already become accustomed to. It was clear she hadn’t bathed in a while – in all truthfulness neither had he – but it did absolutely nothing to take away from pleasing aroma teasing his nose, and anyway Inuyasha always preferred a woman’s natural scent rather than that perfume shit.

Inuyasha blinked and shook his head when he realized where his thoughts were straying. Preferred? He didn’t prefer anything, and sure, Kagome smelled nice, and yeah, maybe her scent was ten times better to take in than the stench of decay and death, but it didn’t mean anything. And fine, she was attractive. So what? He was a healthy adult male with a pair of working eyes; of course he’d noticed her slim figure, her perfect legs, shapely hips, and decent rack. He’d have to be blind to not see how damned beautiful she was with big brown eyes that reflected her soul, luscious raven hair that was a stark contrast to the pale smoothness of her skin, and full, pink lips that he just knew would be soft against his own—

Inuyasha cursed and jerked the handles hard to avoid mowing over a deadie that had wandered into his path. Kagome emitted a soft cry of alarm and shoved herself back hard against him and abruptly he decided that that was enough thinking for the day. Because clearly thinking was dangerous when he was around a certain dark-haired woman and so forcing himself to focus on the task at hand so he didn’t make the same mistake twice – Kagome was already a nervous wreck; she didn’t need him killing them by way of ATV accident – Inuyasha muttered an apology and stole a quick look at her to see how she was faring.

White as a ghost and clutching his wrist now instead of his jeans, Kagome’s concentration was centered on the roamers that they passed as he maneuvered through them, anxiously darting amongst them as she bit down hard on her lip. It was clear she didn’t like being so close to them, but it couldn’t be helped; this was the fastest way to the pit, and he couldn’t take the street because that’s where most of them congregated.

Inuyasha hated to admit that the more time passed, the smarter the damned things seemed to get. They learned, they adapted, and more and more Inuyasha found that he had to use wit to fight his way through rather than brute strength alone. It was astounding, especially since they were nothing more than a rotting meat suit of never ending hunger, but it was apparent they retained enough of their previous cognitive functions to understand roads were a good source of flesh.

It was bizarre and absolutely fucking terrifying, if Inuyasha were being honest.

Kagome emitted a stifled whimper when he dodged yet another roamer and Inuyasha resolved to distract her with the first thing that came to his mind.

“What do you know about ‘em?” he asked, bending his head to be heard over the wind in their ears.

Kagome started at suddenly having his voice in her ear and she turned her head to shoot him a wide-eyed glance of confusion.

“T-them?” she squeaked.

He jerked his head, gesturing to the roamers that reached out to them as they whizzed by. He hadn’t failed to notice either that more were trailing behind them, attracted to the noise of the AVT. That noise meant food and once again Inuyasha cursed the fucking rotters.

Kagome blinked at the question but thankfully it seemed to do the trick, her brow furrowing as she gathered her thoughts. She hadn’t noticed the increasing group stumbling after them yet and Inuyasha was grateful for that. They wouldn’t have time to catch up to them anyway, so at the moment, they didn’t warrant his concern.

“Just that they’re freakishly strong and they can smell us. Or our blood, or something,” Kagome answered.

Inuyasha nodded, unsurprised. That was about the extent of what he knew when everything went south.

“They won’t die unless you get ‘em in the head,” he tacked on as the pit came into view ahead. “Kill the brain, kill the zombie. They don’t get winded or tired, but they’re slow. Noise attracts them; screaming, gunfire, explosives, things like that. For some fucking reason they have hearing as well as any demon’s so even the sound of someone running will grab their attention. They’re drawn to warmth, so if you’re out of options, set something on fire and fucking run. They can’t climb as far as I know, so anywhere up high is a safe bet. If there’s a ladder, knock it down.”

Though looking slightly ill, Kagome nodded and he knew she’d remember everything. He smiled grimly. He wished he could spare her all of this, but the truth of the matter was, it was unavoidable if she wanted to survive.

And Inuyasha really wanted her to survive.

“We’re here,” Inuyasha rumbled in her ear and Kagome looked ahead to find they were entering what looked to be a construction site.

Abandoned utility vehicles, bulldozers, and a large pile of steel beams were some of the things Kagome spotted as Inuyasha maneuvered the four-wheeler toward a sizeable dip in the ground. Kagome suspected some sort of building or large structure had been in the making when the end of the world came about and unsurprisingly, just like literally everywhere else, bodies littered the ground, old blood staining the dirt and the smell was enough to make Kagome gag.

Hastily she covered her mouth and held her breath while Inuyasha merely clenched his jaw and tried very hard not to breathe it in.

“We won’t be here long,” he told her through gritted teeth, ears flicking forward when familiar groaning sounds floated up to him. “Try and bare it—ah, fuck.”

Kagome felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as her eyes widened and her blood turned to ice.

Fuck, indeed.

Somebody had very recently dumped numerous dead bodies into the large hollow and a number of undead were feasting on them.

“Shit,” Inuyasha swore again and he could feel Kagome start to tremble as several of them noticed the arrival of fresh meat and warm blood. They started stumbling toward them up the slight incline and once more Inuyasha swore colorfully under his breath.

“In—Ash,” she whimpered, head whipping around as more roamers encroached. Oh god, they were everywhere!

Heaving a sigh – dammit, this was supposed to a simple trash dump with no incident – Inuyasha wordlessly climbed off behind her and intercepted Kagome’s panicked look with a reassuring one of his own.

“Calm down,” he murmured and slid the combat knife out of its sheath. “Nothing I can’t handle. Here.” He took her hand and slid the handle into her hand. “You won’t need it, but just in case. In the head. Hard.”

Automatically Kagome wrapped her fingers around the weapon but her gaze remained on him, her eyes impossibly wide and the fear a hard knot that was slowly working its way up into her throat, suffocating her.

“B-but—Ash—please—”

Grimacing, Inuyasha forced himself to turn away and slid Tessaiga from its scabbard in one fluid movement. The blade transformed in a brilliant flash of light and then with nary a word he slid down the incline and neatly hacked off the heads of the deadies coming toward him.

With a death grip on the knife in her hand, Kagome watched in a sort of morbid fascination as Inuyasha sliced and diced, cleaving through rotting bodies and spilling rancid blood. He was calm, not an ounce of fear or distress as he almost casually strolled around and stabbed a few more in the head, silencing grating moans.

In what seemed like no time at all he was climbing back out, his sword dripping blood but miraculously not even a single drop stained his clothes or skin.

Okay. Kagome could admit: she was impressed.

Flicking the blood off, Inuyasha dropped Tessaiga back into its scabbard and strolled by to grab the trash bags in the trailer. Kagome gawked at him, wondering how he could be so nonchalant about the whole thing. Didn’t he realize how unreal that was? How amazing he was? There must have been at least ten of them and he’d dispatched every one without batting an eye!

Inuyasha tossed in the garbage, turned around, and gave Kagome a cursory glance before shifting his gaze behind her to the dead figures that were getting closer with every second. Making up his mind, he started toward them, ignoring Kagome’s alarmed cry of his name. Using his speed to his advantage, he zipped between each one and drew his claws through decaying flesh, hacking off heads and outright tearing some of them off when a few managed to catch him off guard.

The whole thing lasted only about a minute and he was dismayed to realize he hadn’t gotten away from staining his clothes that time. He scowled down at the dots of dark red on his jeans before snatching up a random head that was still clicking its jaws at him and wandered back over to Kagome.

She looked absolutely horrified as he stopped beside her and tossed the head onto the ground.

“C’mere,” he said, waving his hand and gesturing her over.

Kagome turned her wide-eyed gaze to him. “Why? What are you gonna do with that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Just get over here already.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as she stared between the moaning head – gross – and him as she deliberated on whether or not to do as he said but then finally gave in with a grimace when Inuyasha pegged her with an impatient glare. Mindful of her arm, she scooted off the four-wheeler and shuffled over to him, looking very uncertain and casting nervous glances at the head as if it would suddenly grow legs and leap at her.

When she reached him, Inuyasha crossed his arms and nodded to the lump of flesh on the ground.

“Kill it.”

Her mouth dropped. “W-what?” she squeaked, aghast.

Inuyasha returned her incredulous stare with an unwavering one of his own. “I want you to get a feel for the kind of force that’s needed to penetrate through the skull to get to the brain. Use the knife and stab it as hard as you can.”

Fervently Kagome began shaking her head. “A-Ash, no, I can’t—”

“You can,” Inuyasha interrupted firmly, “and you will.  Would you rather I get one with the body still attached? I can assure you it won’t be nearly as easy.”

She blanched at the thought.

“No,” she grumbled, wrinkling her nose.

“Then c’mon,” he urged and jerked his head toward the dead eyes and snapping jaws on the ground. “You said you wanted to learn. Back it up and show me.”

Kagome shot him a look but when all he did was raise his eyebrows at her, she sighed and begrudgingly knelt down beside it.

Five feet away.

“Ya gotta get closer than that, babe,” Inuyasha drawled and Kagome huffed before slowly inching her way closer, knife clutched in her shaking hand. She eyed the head, grimacing at the blood that oozed from the neck and the loose flaps of skin that hung off the face, revealing the torn muscle beneath.

Inuyasha caught a glimpse of her face and grinned. “Yeah, it ain’t pretty,” he agreed. “But it’s harmless. Just stay clear of the mouth and you’re good. Try to get it in one; multiple stabs tend to get messy.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Kagome whimpered but nonetheless poised the business end of the knife above it. Teeth clicked and snapped, gurgled sounds emitting from the mangled throat that Kagome tried very hard to ignore.

“Get a good grip,” her half-demon teacher instructed, voice low. “Don’t want your hand slipping and getting close to the mouth.”

Kagome tightened her hand and swallowed thickly before taking a deep, bracing breath. She could do this. She could do this.

Face screwing up in determination, Kagome grit her teeth, raised her hand, and jabbed viciously down.

The knife went about halfway into the right side of forehead and blood welled up around the ebony blade. But it must not have been deep or hard enough because it was still making those awful gurgling sounds and with a low moan, Kagome jerked to the side and threw up the Poptart she’d had for breakfast.

She felt something warm land on her back, rubbing up and down, and her face burned with shame. God, she was so pathetic. How did she ever think she could do this? She was weak, a failure, surely Inuyasha didn’t want to waste his time on someone so pathetic—

“It was a good first try,” he told her and reached out with his free hand to jerk the knife free. “A little harder and you would have had it. You okay to try again? We can call it a day and try again tomorrow if you want. We got time to kill.”

Spitting a few times and using her shirt to wipe her mouth, Kagome sat back and turned wide eyes his way, a little stunned with how patient he was being. He didn’t sound or even look disappointed, amber eyes regarding her steadily without a hint of judgment.

“Why are you so...understanding?” she asked, shaking her head. “I thought you’d be...I don’t know, annoyed, or something, because I’m...well, weak.”

Inuyasha sighed. “Everyone has to start somewhere, K—uh, kitten,” he said, coming up with the name on the fly and finding he sort of liked it. “You think I was as good as I am now right off the bat?” He snorted. “Hell no. I didn’t have anybody to teach me when shit hit the fan so I had to teach myself through trial and error how to kill these assholes. But I learned from my mistakes, got stronger, and yeah it was hard at first, but when you’re fighting for your life, you get over it quickly.

“It’s only the first day,” he told her, grabbing her braid and giving it a gentle tug. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll get there, I promise. After all, you have me showing you the ropes. It’s a guaranteed success.”

He grinned arrogantly at her and Kagome let loose a watery laugh. His words actually did make her feel a little better. He was right; of course she’d fumble and make mistakes during the first try. She had literally zero experience, but now she had a general idea of how hard she had to jab down, so perhaps she was jumping the gun a bit.

She wasn’t weak. She could do this.

She will.

Offering a genuine smile and straightening her back, Kagome nodded and steeled herself.

“Again.”

With a smirk, Inuyasha handed over the knife and watched with no small amount of pride as Kagome sucked in a breath, poised the knife once more above the head, and drove the entire blade home.

He was surprised, but happy to oblige when she requested she get the other gurgling heads and one by one Kagome silenced the bleeding craniums. With each one it became easier and easier until, by head number twelve, there was zero hesitation as she raised the blade and drove it into the temple in one smooth jab.

Even the puddle of blood she was kneeling in wasn’t enough to stop the proud grin from spreading across her face, brown eyes bright and exuberant as she gazed up at a smirking Inuyasha standing next to her, arms crossed and the approval evident on his face.

Kagome was covered in blood, her left shoulder and arm were screaming at her, and her right arm was sore from overuse, but she didn’t care about any of that as Inuyasha drove them back to the store. Unpredictably deadies chased after them with their slow stumble but that didn’t bother her either now that she knew she had what it took. There was a new confidence instilled in her, a hidden reserve a strength Kagome wasn’t even aware she had, and it was all thanks for the half-demon pressed against her back, strong arms bracketing her body, keeping her safe, and didn’t that give her all the warm and fuzzies.

Inuyasha parked by the back door and after Kagome climbed off, he moved the AVT into a hidden alcove she hadn’t noticed before. Obscured by a large green dumpster and gray tarp that had several holes in it, at first glance it looked like just a heap of garbage from all the trash bags around it and Kagome had to admit it was rather clever. She waited for him at the door and together they headed inside.

Kagome was still on cloud nine as they descended into the basement, unable to wipe the smile off of her face. Inuyasha merely shook his head and rooted around in his box of clothes for something for her to wear since her jeans were ruined. He found a pair of jersey shorts, shrugged, and tossed them at her, saying something about heading back up to check if anything had happened in their absence to give her privacy to change.

Inuyasha disappeared and as fast as she could considering she only had one arm, she peeled herself out of her ruined jeans with some difficulty and muttered a curse as her shoulder protested. She was tying the drawstring of the shorts into a knot when Inuyasha returned and sitting on the bed, she watched him shrug off the shotgun on his back and put it back onto the shelf before setting both blades, his sword and the knife, onto the table to be cleaned.

The rest of the day was blessedly free of anymore zombie stabbing, much to Kagome’s relief, and the two passed the time in a mixture of idle chatter, Kagome’s endless questions about his friends, Inuyasha’s exasperated replies, and several demonstrations on how to take apart, clean, and load the Glock. Inuyasha managed to convince Kagome to stay behind when he left to do a quick perimeter check, but only after promising her that he’d only be gone for ten minutes and would come straight back. She was an anxious mess, but when he returned eight minutes later, the brilliant and relieved smile she gave him had the sarcastic retort on his lips instantly dying.

When Kagome went to bed that night, lying on her side and drowsily watching Inuyasha doze comfortably in the recliner not too far from her, she randomly remembered what the half-demon had called her earlier that day and she smiled.

Her last thought before drifting off to sleep was, Kitten, huh...?

Fun fact: For those of you who are fans of The Walking Dead or watch the show, I swear to you that I wrote this chapter weeks before I saw the episode in season 9 when the Whisperers are introduced 😂 Honest to God I had no idea the Skins/Whisperers were an actual thing when I wrote about the part where Inuyasha is explaining to Kagome about the people who disguise themselves as zombies and attack people lmao 

Ch. 5

but me a coffee? :)

[nico-drives-badly]

Ok so... in DMCV Nero slav squats as an idle animation. Does this mean Nero's mom is Slavic? And another thing, his hair gets aggressively long while in Devil Trigger, maybe Trish or Niko try to have fun with that? Maybe he can just use his devil powers to grow his hair to whatever length he wants?

Idk, maybe? Lol I know nothing about Slavic culture (I have a brother-in-law whose family is Turkish, but that’s a different culture entirely), so I have no real opinion on the matter. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with headcanoning her as Slavic though, so go for it ^_^

Personally, I see Nero as someone who really can’t stand long hair. I mean yeah, he had the emo haircut in DMC4, but when he eventually grew out of that phase and cut his hair short he was like “holy shit this is so much better??? My head has never felt this light before??? And it’s so much easier to take care of??? AND IT’S SO GODDAMN FLUFFY?!?! Why tf did I not do this earlier holy fuck” and he never looked back. Lol

In this case, if he does have that power, I highly doubt he’d use it. He already gets annoyed enough with his long hair in DT, always getting in his eyes during battle and all that, and he literally cringes at the idea of having that “ugly ass emo hair” again; he wouldn’t be caught dead using it voluntarily.

But what hapoens when he accidentally triggers it involuntarily?

One of my favorite headcanons is that the Sparda boys tend to lose control over their demonic abilities when they’re angry/upset/scared/surprised/etc. For Nero specifically, I like to imagine that his DT spazzes out sometimes when he’s startled, and his Bringer Claws pop out of his back on their own. Sometimes, though, if he’s REALLY startled, it can also involuntarily trigger his DT hair and horns, much to Nero’s annoyance. He can’t really unsummon them until he calms down, either, so if he’s in a high-stress situation and this happens...yeah, you have one very pissed off long-haired Nero on your hands.

This is where Nico and Trish come in. Trish thinks it’s hilarious to see how flustered Nero gets when his hair DTs on its own, but she does genuinely try her best to help. If he can’t unsummon it right away, she offers to braid it or put it in a ponytail to help keep it out of his face (Nero is still pretty embarrassed about it, but he does appreciate her help).

Nico, on the other hand, is a snarky little gremlin about it, making snide remarks and side comments just to get under Nero’s skin. She tried to jokingly play with his hair once, but Nero picked her up by the shirt collar with his Bringer Claws and chucked her across the van — not hard enough to hurt her, of course, but enough to get the point across. Nico never touched his hair again after that (but she still makes those snarky jokes/remarks).

[greeneyedgirls4]

Heart of a Saint. Life of a Sinner

Summary - Her name was Raven. She had it all. The mind, good looks and sparkling personality. She truly was the Queen of everything.. or so she would let you think.  

Her name was Raven.. and this is the story of how she died.

Chapter - 1/32. Bucky x reader. 

Warnings - None. Just some fluff and of course a happy(ish) ending because you know me :) The first few chapters probably have awful writing because I started writing this then couldn't write for a good year (it was a bad year) and only got round to continuing it when I got back so please go easy on lil me lol. Are you all ready for this rollercoaster? I can’t wait for you all to read the rest.

You can also find me and this story on - AO3 and Fanfiction.net so feel free to leave some feedback wherever suits (I love feedback so honestly go for it!) please and this is my Masterlist. Thanks and enjoy!

The human mind is truly the scariest thing of all.

My name is Raven. I’m from New York City, have a little pain in the ass brother called Den and I’m a normal young woman.. or at least I was until Hydra decided to kidnap me, experiment on me and force me to build various machines and medicines that will create their army.

As I said, my name is Raven but I’m not a normal young woman anymore. I’ve been through a lot and when you read this, I’m more than likely dead.

1931

High school. The two words I had been trying my best not to think of the whole Summer but instead, here I am, walking into the shiny new school on my first day.

It was a bright cold day in September. The breeze is soft through my hair and the smell of freshly cut grass engulfs me.

What more could you ask for?

Summer. That’s what but it had flown by. I spent most of my days reading but when I wasn't doing that I was taking my little brother Den to his random soccer games or making sure we both got fed. Our parents aren't exactly the caring type so I was forced from a young age to learn how to bring up myself but when I turned six, Den was born and I had to learn to bring up him too. Bringing myself and Den up wasn't the easiest thing in the world but when you grow up around two alcoholics.. it’s not the hardest thing either.

Making my way through the iron gates I don't hear someone calling my name until I feel a small hand grip my shoulder. “Raven! I told you to wait for me at the park.”

I turn when Mary's voice reaches my ear. Of course she would have her blonde hair up in a ponytail. She always was the school pet in that way, following all the rules. “Sorry Mary. I totally forgot.”

We both turn towards the school building again and continue our journey to our classroom. When I reach the seat assigned to me I smile to myself when I see that Mary will be beside me, my smile quickly fades when I see the name on the other side of me. Bucky Barnes. He was known as the most popular boy in our neighbourhood.. and not for good reasons. Yes he's handsome and he has that whole bad boy look down to a T but he also flirts with anything that moves.

“Was Dennis giving you a hard time again this morning?” I’m snapped from my thoughts when I hear Mary’s quiet voice.

I take out my notebook and pencil and settle into my seat as the rest of the class filters in. “He wasn't too bad. Just a bit annoyed that I’ll be finishing later than he is now so he has to wait with the teacher.”

I hear her sigh and it’s not long before she's digging for answers again. “How many bottles have they drank today then?”

“Three.” I reply, lifting my green eyes to meet her sparkling blue. “It is nine o'clock and that was from last night so they are getting better.”

“You keep telling yourself that Rav.” She says and that’s when I look away from her. Mary has been my best friend since we were two. We met when she fell over in front of my house and mum had to bring her inside to patch up her cut knee. After that day, we would see each other all the time and soon became fast friends.

I lift my eyes to see the grey haired teacher make her way into the room but instead of watching longer I decide to pick up my pencil and doodle in my notebook. A habit of mine when I’m bored unfortunately.

After a few minutes I hear a rustling beside me and a husky cough. Lifting my eyes once more I meet the steel blue eyes of James or as everyone likes to call him.. Bucky.

“You alright there neighbour?” He says with a cocky smile and I can’t help the low groan that escapes me.

“Perfect. How about you Bucky?”

“Living life like there’s no tomorrow.” Bucky replies, his eyes still focused on mine. He leans forward, just enough for me to be able to smell the light aftershave on him. “I do love it when you say my name by the way.”

Again I groan only this time I roll my eyes too just to emphasis how much he was annoying me right now. “Good to know.” I whisper, turning my head towards the teacher who was now writing on the blackboard.

Throughout class I glance at Bucky every so often and find him already side eyeing me, only turning away when my eyes meet his. It was no secret among my friends that I have had a crush on Bucky for years, even when he annoys the life out of me. He was the first person outside of my family that I had met when we moved next door to him. I was only two when we moved from Queens to Brooklyn but I distinctly remember meeting him for the first time when he kicked a football at my head, only to miss and break my mum’s favourite plant pot.. which I then got the blame of and ended up with a fractured wrist for three weeks.

He’s never been overly nice to me though. Always teasing me, flirting maybe too but mostly doing those usual childish things that boys do to annoy girls. Today was actually the longest conversation we have had without one of us annoying the other person to the brink of wanting to stick a pencil in their eye. I think he just sees me as his little annoying neighbour. Suits me.

When class finishes I quietly leave before Mary, or even Bucky, can stop me for a chat. Making my way down the corridor I feel a strange sense of familiarity. I couldn't pinpoint what it was that seemed so familiar. Maybe it’s the fact I’m walking alone or that I’m trying to find any opportunity to just leave home and run away and marry a rich man who will hire someone to kill my parents once and for all. Yes, that sounds like it.

“Oui.. Raven.”

“Good start Bucky.” I say, turning my whole body to face him as he walks, no, saunters towards me. God this man would be the death of me. Between his gelled back brown hair, those piercing blue eyes and that smile that could melt anything in its path.. yes he was going to kill me.

He frowns and I know he's already confused by my quick reply. “What do you mean good start?”

“You remembered my name.” I reply, looking him straight in the eye. When he continues frowning, I give up. “I was being sarcastic Bucky.”

“Ohh. I thought you were actually being nice to me for once.”

“You're not that lucky. Now what did you want?” I say, nodding for him answer quickly before my English class starts.

I watch him run a hand through his hair before he answers. “Could you be my p-partner for that assignment the teacher was going on about?”

“Why?”

“I just thought because we live beside each other and are beside each other in class so it would be easier to work together.”

I glance behind him as Mary comes out of the classroom batting her eyelids at a tall black haired boy who looks like he would rather be anywhere but right there with her. “Erm.. sure. As long as this isn't any kind of joke.”

“Why would it be a joke?” He says and he almost sounds vulnerable which causes guilt to bubble up in your chest. An emotion you are not too familiar with.

“I know you Bucky. You play people, you joke and you’re with a different girl every bloody week. I don't want us to suddenly sleep together and for me to end up being another girl in a long line. This is school and a project, no jokes.”

He nods his head and I sigh with relief. “No jokes. I promise.”

“Good. It’s hardly like we are even friends anyway.” I whisper, ignoring the hurt look on Bucky’s face and turning around to make my way into the English studies classroom.

Well this was going to be fun..

Tagging a few friends to spread the word a bit more hopefully  - @deathbyukmen @ex-bookjunky @fanboyswhereare-you @myplaceofheavenorhell @galacyan-imagine @xllizette @honeybournehippy @sgtbxckybxrnes @wolfpawn @jackierand @cumonbucky @scarlettsage77 @lokisgloriouspurpose9  @archy3001 @redlipstickandplaid  @unicorns-and-fairy-dust @starstruckpastalandbear and anyone else who wants to have a nosy xo

[its-just-a-fayz]

Heartbeat On Air: Chapter 25

read on ao3

chapter 24/chapter 26

masterpost

tag list:@emilybarger​ @lordcheesy​ @sheeswee​ @tayuya3​ @sweetlialia​ (hit up my askbox if you want to be added/removed)

a/n: hey guys, sorry it's been awhile since i last updated. i started college! it's kind of wack to me that i'm finishing this story that i started in middle school as a freshman in college, especially since my characters have been in college for quite some time now lol. these are also very intense last chapters, which does NOT make the task of editing and uploading them any easier lmao. thank you for everyone who stuck with the fic this long, there are only two more chapters left i swear. i love this fic and i'm glad many of my readers do too.

Diana stood on the steps of Sam’s house with pepper spray in hand, tapping her fingers against its container in a show of barely-contained anxiety. Her hair was tied back, out of her face in a ponytail. Caine had hated when she wore it up, always liked it to be long enough for him to run his fingers through or pull on. Astrid was behind her, and she didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t have a weapon, just a text to Sam that had been sent three minutes ago. Her face was pulled tight with worry, but when she looked at Diana there was a hardened resolve in her eyes.

Sam opened the door. Diana lowered the pepper spray. “Caine’s here,” she stated.

“Unfortunately, yes. Lana has him under control, though. Mostly. Are you sure you want to come in?” He looked from Diana’s face to Astrid’s, uncertain.

“We have to end this,” Astrid said, reaching out and squeezing Diana’s hand. “Did Caine bring backup?”

“He wouldn’t, he doesn’t like to share me,” Diana said, her expression twisting. “Let me talk to him.” Sam opened the door, locking it carefully behind the three of them.

She walked into the house. It was the same as it had been the last time she visited, for a game night with Sam and Quinn when Connie was working late. But the very air of the place was hard edged, like a blade was about to come crashing down the middle of the hallway.

The living room was also the same as before. There was the couch and the two armchairs, the coffee table and the mantle. But Caine was on the floor, with Lana standing over him. Quinn was lying on the couch, obviously in pain. Sam sat down in one of the armchairs and sighed as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

Sam took a deep breath, then began. “So this is it. You’ve come to carry through on your threat, one that you made months ago, for no reason other than your enormous ego and sense of entitlement towards, well, everything under the sun.” He gestured at the room around them. “Terrible things, you said. You were going to do terrible things to us. I don’t see any terrible things, Caine. You know why? Of course you know why.” Sam laughed, a fiery brittle sound. “You’re pinned on the ground by someone you’ve greatly underestimated, you’ve only succeeded in hurting one of us tonight—and that might not have even been you—and you don’t have your precious weapon,” Sam said, looking down at Caine on the ground. He wasn’t happy with this statement, just bitter. Because there was no way that Caine had played every card in his deck yet, and there was no way he wasn’t cheating.

“Cut the crap, Hamlet, he knows the deep shit he’s in,” Lana said, shifting her weight slightly as she rolled her eyes. It was the wrong move.

Caine was standing up in the middle of Sam’s living room in  the space of a second, and he looked pissed.

“Nice monologue, Sam, it’s a pity that you’re wrong,” Caine said, gaze sweeping across the room to Diana. “Hey babe.”

Diana stared him down, viciously at first, but then softened. He was so familiar, she could almost forget who he was. “Call me babe again and I pepper spray you until your eyes are gone.” Her arm shook as she raised the can.

With a sharp smile, Caine took the can from her hand. “That’s cute, honey, but I don’t want to fight.”

“Step away from Diana, Caine,” Astrid said, shoving Caine’s shoulder to get him away from her girlfriend. “You’ve done enough to her already.” She was trying her best to look intimidating, though she was nearly as terrified as Diana.

“Oh, so she’s told you some stories,” Caine said, his face shifting to a look of mock pain. “Diana loves to exaggerate, don’t you? She blows everything out of proportion. I wasn’t that bad. She doesn’t really like girls. She’s not over me.” Each statement kicked up Astrid’s rage by a notch.

Diana punched him in the gut. “Get out.” She reached out her other hand to take Astrid’s, holding her tight.

Caine took a second of gasping to recover, anger boiling in his words. “No. Diana darling, I want to give you one last chance to make things right. I believe that you can change, so all you have to do is choose me and I’ll leave them all alone forever,” Caine said, his tone slick and smooth like satin. He stepped closer to Diana, so that they were almost touching.

Sam and Lana decided it was time to break this up at the same moment. They both sprung towards Caine, but stopped when they reached him. Diana was still silent and still, so very still. So was Caine. Astrid held Diana’s hand for dear life. Lana and Sam looked at each other, thinking the same thing. To escalate this would be a bad, bad idea.

Diana broke her stillness, narrowed her eyes and set her shoulders straight. She looked like the goddess of the hunt, and Caine was her prey. “Go to hell, Caine.” A glob of spit landed on Caine’s face, and his jaw dropped.

Caine pulled another knife out of his pocket and brought it up to Diana’s eye level. “I always suggested couple’s tattoos, and you always said no. Broke my heart, to tell you the truth. I wonder if you’ll like scars better, babe.”

The blood drained from Diana’s face, and, heart pounding and adrenaline pumping, she kneed Caine in the groin, sending him sprawling. “Leave us alone. We’ve never done anything to hurt you.” The mask of strength had fallen from her face, and her terror was bare for everyone to see.

The doorbell rang. Caine and Diana didn’t notice or care. Lana moved to pin Caine down again, but she was a hair too slow. He got up, but instead of going for Diana, he moved towards Astrid, knife raised. She shoved him with her free hand, and he stumbled backwards. “I am not losing my girlfriend again because of you, Caine. I am not letting you put me and Diana through that hell again. You need to leave us alone.”

“What can you do to stop me?” Caine gave a soulless laugh.

Astrid shrugged and smiled at him. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to test what I can do, because I have a feeling it will end with you on the ground, bleeding out of a major artery with an ambulance on the way, and I don’t think a trip to prison will look very good on my job applications. But I don’t think Lana has the same reservations.”

***

“Hi mom,” Sam said. “Sorry the door’s locked. You might not want to come in right now, though.” His heart was still pounding from everything that was happening.

“Are you watching porn again?” Connie asked, looking past Sam to try and glimpse what he was up to.

“No, god no. I haven’t done that in the living room in ages, why would you think that?” The knot of anxiety in Sam’s stomach tightened. She couldn’t know what was happening in the living room right now.

“Because you’re not letting me into the house and I told you I forgot my key this morning, and I can’t think of why you wouldn’t, Sam,” Connie said, looking at her son. “I found my key, you know.”

Before Sam could come up with another excuse for why she couldn’t come in, Connie unlocked the door and came in. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it.” She walked down the hallway, towards the living room.

“No—Mom, please don’t, there’s—” Connie walked into the living room. “Never mind,” Sam finished, anxiety bubbling in his throat as he walked past her.

Caine was still pointing his knife at Astrid, the two of them engaged in a furious standoff. There were tears down Diana’s cheeks, she was just as helpless as Quinn. As all of them were, really, against Caine.

“C’mon, Astrid. She broke your heart once, why would you let her do that again? She doesn’t really like you,” Caine said, smiling as he inched his knife closer to her abdomen.

Sam had really never thought about how much damage someone can cause with a knife before. He looked from them to Diana, and opened his mouth to say something.

“Now, could someone explain to me what the hell is going on in here?” Connie said, taking in the sight of Caine threatening Astrid, Diana watching on helplessly. Her voice was firm, angry and righteous. She was Sam’s mother again, the one who had bandaged his scraped knees and told him that he would do great before he had a presentation in school. He hadn’t seen this version of her since he was fifteen. This was the mother who helped him with his homework, who told him funny stories about his father.

Caine had never known Connie like this. He dropped the knife immediately. “Mom. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I live here, Caine. And I thought you were better than this.” Connie dropped her bag onto the floor and put her hands on her hips.

“I’m— I’m sorry.” He withered under her gaze, losing his signature bravado, until everyone saw him as he was. A scared kid.

Connie looked to Sam. “You know, I always thought that, deep down, you two weren’t too different. You were just boys raised in different households. And maybe that’s true, and maybe I shouldn’t have decided to have one of my babies adopted.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have,” Caine said, anger returning to his voice.

“But I was struggling so much, mentally and financially. I was a nurse who wouldn’t go to the doctor to get a diagnosis for depression. I didn’t ask for help. And I thought that by sending you away, you wouldn’t be influenced by my decisions, for better or for worse. Mostly for better.” Connie looked from Caine’s face to the knife in his hand. “I think you’ve started making your own decisions, Caine, and I know I didn’t raise you.”

Caine smiled. “No fucking shit.”

“But I have been in your life for three years, and I have tried to make amends. But the funny thing about our decisions is that we don’t pass them down. Every generation gets to make its own decisions. There’s nothing I can do about yours, of course. I can’t make you choose differently,” Connie said, smiling back.

“Mom, what are you talking about?” Sam asked, looking at his mother with concern. This realization felt fast, but it had to be a long time coming. There was thought behind his mother’s every word.

“Sam, I’ve done what I can. I have done everything I can to make sure that Caine will understand that I love him and that I care for him. And you know what? I think he knows that. He knows that pretty damn well. He keeps doing the things he does regardless, and as his mother I need to teach him a lesson.” She fished her phone out of her bag and dialed a number.

“You can’t do anything,” Caine said, smile falling from his face.

Connie spoke to the person on the other end of the line. “Yes, he’s made several threats. He used to be dating one of these girls. He’s my son—I originally gave him up at birth because I was in a rough spot, but we recently reconnected. I wish I didn’t have to do this, but he needs to know that his actions have consequences. You’ll be here in five minutes. Thank you very much, sir, I’ll stay on the line.”

“She can do that,” Diana said, reaching over to take Caine’s knife out of his hand. “You know what I think you should do once you’ve sweet-talked your way out of the back of that police car? I think you should leave. I think that you’re stupid rich enough to make a life for yourself somewhere else, because I’m not your prize. You can’t win me. I’m not some possession, and nobody in this room is someone you can toss around.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Diana— “

“Shut up. Actually, don’t.” Diana reached into Astrid’s pocket and pulled out her phone. “This has been recording everything. And if you think you can win against me in court, you’re wrong. I’m in contact with lawyers smart enough to get Snoop Dogg out of a drug possession case, and I have stone-cold evidence on you. I’ll press charges. I’ll get you stuck in prison until your little baby mustache hairs turn gray, because you never did fully go through puberty, did you? You’re still an immature little boy who thinks the world is his sandbox.” She tilted her head, as if listening. “The police are coming, Caine, and you’d better have one hell of a cover story.”

[carmeninguanzo]

“Pelo Malo” is What They Called It...

I was five-years-old when my mom first relaxed my hair. I. Didn't. Have. A. CHOICE. "No tengo tiempo para bregar con su pajón," she told the Dominican hairdresser when she told my mom I was too young to have my hair relaxed. “Los desrizados tienen mucha químicas,” she said. Grant it, I was her only girl-and child #4. She'd been dying for a girl after having three boys back to back, but didn't count on my curly thick coils being part of that desire to have a girl. I guess she was banking on a baby girl with straight fine hair. "Pelo malo" or “bad hair” is what she and my entire family would call it. I was seven-years-old when she cut my hair into a teeny weeny fro. I was DEVASTATED! "No tengo tiempo para bregar con tu pajón," was her response when I begged her not to cut it. You see, I grew up thinking my hair was "pelo malo" and was taught that the ONLY beauty standard was straight, "good hair", and so I hid my "pelo malo" complex behind keeping my hair straightened by going to the salon EVERY week, rain or shine. And God forbid a rain drop hit my hair! My anxiety would go up the roof if my roots would wrinkle and people would see my "pelo malo". As much as I’ve always loved the pool and the beach, even that was a stress factor for me, and for the millions of women that have been told they have “pelo malo”. I’m sure there are cultures other than Dominican ones that think having straight, shiny hair is what makes a woman beautiful. “El pelo es lo que hace una mujer. La mujer que tiene el pelo desarreglado, nunca luce bien y se ve fea.” These words would ring in my ears for more than three decades. These lies, so many of us have been fed. Curly hair or not.   

I stopped relaxing my hair in July 2015. This would be my third attempt to go natural; the first two times going back to relaxers because I truly believed I looked ugly and could not, for the life of me, look past my hair texture and see the beauty I carry within. I wanted my hair to look moisturized and less coily, but I couldn’t achieve that. I read in an Essence magazine article, “unlike straight hair which reflects light, our highly textured strands with their glorious bends and turns, refracts light, giving it a somewhat dull appearance. So, similar to those pesky single strand knots and shrinkage, it kinda comes with the territory.” ~Curly Nikki 

It’s been a difficult transition since I last stopped relaxing, to say the least. For an entire year I continued to visit the salon weekly because I hated the way the two different textures blended when growing out the relaxer. I was afraid to show the world my roots growing in. Then, in August of 2016, I went to a Devacurl salon to get my first curly cut. My intentions were never to do the big chop, I wanted to grow out my hair in stages. Needless to say, the hairdresser who cut my hair messed up so bad I had no other choice but to do the big chop (the process of cutting off the relaxed or permed ends of one’s hair when transitioning from chemically processed hair to natural hair). A very HUGE decision! But of course, I did not go to the same place. He messed up my haircut twice, AND, snipped my ear in the process, leaving me with a bloody painful ear :/ ! For weeks I hid at home because of the shame I felt, because of how terribly ugly I felt. When an uncle of mine past away last summer, I contemplated not attending his funeral because of fear of what my family would say and how they would ridicule me. Thankfully, my cousin convinced me to go. “Carmen, he’s not just anyone. He’s your mother’s brother.” My suspicions were confirmed that day. I was the talk of the funeral. Some of them telling me how horrible my hair looked. “Ay Dios mio Carmen, pero y que te hiciste en ese caquito? Tan bello y brilloso que tenía tu ese pelo.” Since my hair was no longer straight or shiny, they had lots to say. That was just ONE of the many horrible comments I received. I saw the looks on some of their faces, and heard the whispers about my hair. Less than a handful commended me for my decision and said my natural hair was pretty. I didn’t hear those. I didn’t hear the nice comments people made about my hair until recently... This... is called #Trauma.

A month later, my very close friend lost his five-year-old son. Again, I was paralyzed with fear. “Oh my God! I’m going to see people I haven’t seen in years. What will they think of me? I look so ugly.” This was my internal dialogue, daily. Especially, whenever I knew I was going to see people who had always seen my gorgeous, shiny, straight hair. I was there for my friends every step of the way because that’s what friend’s do. I felt humiliated, nonetheless...

It’s been almost one year since that big chop. It’s been almost an entire year of me hating who I’ve been looking at in the mirror. With having to do my own hair every week for the first time in my life, and having such tight curls, the struggle has been REAL. Many times regretting my decision, though going back this time around has never been an option. I made this decision to go natural and I am standing by that decision, irregardless of who likes my hair or not. My mom still not liking it and making sure she brings it to my attention each time I see her. “Pero mi hija, y cuando tu vas a ir para el salon?” (I’m unbothered, by the way.) I will never be a slave to a salon a-gain! This journey has made me develop thick skin and it’s been months since I let a single negative comment send me in a depressing spiral. Because yes, this journey made me even more depressed than what I normally was. But this journey, I’m grateful for. This journey, was meant to be. This journey, has transformed me. I have learned to love myself. Maybe not all of me lol, but a whole lot more than before I embarked on this journey! It’s a process, and I’m grateful for it.

Today, I am happy to say, I like my hair a LOT. I’m getting closer to loving it. I’m just waiting for the detangling process of the constant knots to get easier lol. But I don’t really see that happening as my hair continues to grow longer. I predict it’ll only get bigger tangles with how thick it is. Yikes! But what am I to do? It’s my hair. The hair I was born with. The hair I choose to keep and embrace because the freedom that I’ve felt is indescribable! Because I no longer feel like a slave. A slave to the salon. The slave I was for 35 years of my life! The freedom I feel when I’m outside rain or shine, humidity or not, curly q’s or not. Fuck, I’m fucking free from those shackles! 

This beautiful letter I’m sharing was written by a mother to her young daughter. If only every parent would say this to their child no matter their hair texture. A lot more girls would have confidence and feel pretty, while learning to embrace their natural beauty. It’s called, This is How You Learn to Love Your Hair. 

July 11, 2014  

Dear Zora,

This is how you learn to love your hair in a world that requires such lessons. First, you remember who gave you that glorious head of curls–your parents, your ancestors, your Creator. Then, you care for it like a treasured inheritance.

Loving your hair, like loving your family, your days, your life, requires two things: reverence and effort. To truly love your hair, you must hold it in high regard and you must behave like you do. As you behold it in a mirror or touch its willful strands, you must pause to consider what it does for you and to define what it means to you. Then you must treat it accordingly.

You’re not yet three years old, so this whole discussion may be a bit premature, but not by much. Your hair is cornrowed into a side ponytail today. You wear it that way because I’m calling the styles and long ago adopted a no heat, no chemicals, no fake hair policy for us both.

There’s no peer pressure for you to wear it any other way yet. Most of your friends rock afro puffs, box braids and two-strand twists. But you can look to their mothers’ relaxed and pressed styles for a preview of what’s to come. There comes a day when many moms of daughters with hair like yours reach for hot combs, flat irons and chemicals to “tame” kinky tresses. And when they do, I expect you’ll notice the difference and have some questions for me. Mommy, why doesn’t my hair blow in the wind? Why can’t I run my fingers through it? Why does it get curlier when wet and frizzier in the sun?

The decision to straighten or not is a personal one, albeit one loaded with social, cultural and economic significance for black people. From the moment slaveholders shaved off the elaborate hairstyles of their African captives, hairstyles have mirrored our rocky rise from anonymous chattel to distinctive humanity. To this day, hair is impossibly tangled up in issues of black identity and social acceptability. Just look at the debate raging over the U.S. military’s new grooming guidelines’ bias against black hair, which tends to grow out, not down.

I want to raise you to love your hair in its natural state so that dying it, relaxing it or not will truly be a choice for you. Some women say that they straighten their hair for fashion or convenience, but many are deluding themselves. They are crushing the natural texture of their hair because they were taught to hate kinky hair or never learned how to love or take care of it. They are relaxing, weaving and wigging their hair because in the twisted skin-shade, hair-texture hierarchies of American history, straight hair sometimes affords economic and social advantage. 

I am committed to teaching you this to fortify you against the crazy you will undoubtedly encounter. Soon you’ll observe women who don’t swim or work out because they want to keep their hairstyles intact. You’ll see some who will chemically process their hair to the point of baldness rather than embrace their God-given hair texture. You’ll notice others who would rather sport expensive wigs and weaves than take the time and do the research to nurture their own locks.

As you get older, others will look upon your natural hair and start jumping to conclusions about your class, your potential, your politics. I know because these same people see my afro puff and label me “militant” and worse. (Note: The labels say more about them than about me. Like Whitman, I contain multitudes.)

Avoid their prejudice and make sure your natural hair love is never reduced to straightened-hair hate. Not every naturalista is empowered and not every relaxer is rooted in shame.

When you are old enough to choose your own hair styles, may they reflect great self-awareness, self-confidence and vision. Always remember who gave you that head of hair–your parents, your ancestors, your Creator. Then care for it like the inheritance it is.

Love,

Mom

http://mayasmart.com/natural-hair-love/