#we also learn that he hates his flame.. the tragedy of this guy man | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daisy-day-dreams · 4 years ago

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Eternal Twin Flames: Gypsey's

A/N: Here it is! Finally, the first part of Eternal Twin Flames is out! I’m so excited for this world and can’t wait to share it with all of you! I only hope you love the characters just as much as I do ❤️ A huge shoutout to @carlaangel86 😘 I couldn’t have done this without you! Thank you so much for all the love, support and encouragement. It means the world to me. And thank you so much for helping bring life to these characters and their world! It wouldn’t be what it is without you and all your support and help and love for them 🥺❤️ Thank you so so much. I’m so excited to bring to life and share what we’ve created 💜

*gif not mine*

EZ followed Angel into Gypsy’s, the quaint little diner just on the outskirts of Santo Padre. He immediately caught Mikaela’s attention the second they walked in. Flashing a grin her way he was happy to be seeing his girl again after just being on the other side of the border with the club. She smiled back at him, his favorite sight in the whole world. Grabbing a couple of menus she met the two at the booth in the corner of the retro-style diner.

“Hey, baby.” She said as she leaned over to kiss Angel.

He wrapped his arm around her waist in the middle of their kiss, pulling her down onto his lap. “I missed you.” He murmured resting his forehead against hers taking in her scent.

Her smile grew as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You just saw me this morning.”

“You two do realize we’re in public right?” EZ interrupted the two love bird’s moment. Even after all their years together they were so in love. It was annoying to him but also endearing.

“You’re just jealous Ezekiel.” Mikaela teased using his full name. She resituated herself and wrapped her arm around Angel’s waist settling back into his lap more. “You know if you would just man up and talk to her,” she motioned to her coworker wiping down the counter across the room, “maybe you could have this too.”

EZ had a very not-so-subtle crush on Mikaela’s coworker and friend, Jenny. It was obvious to almost anyone who had seen the two in the same room. Obvious to everyone except maybe Jenny herself.

Every time Angel and EZ stopped in since he got out he was always watching her, admiring her. He’d observe her as she worked the whole time they ate, taking in every detail he could get but would never get the guts to approach her.

It was sweet and cute but at some point, enough was enough.

“You know she doesn't bite.” Mikaela went on. “Unless you’re into that then I’m sure she’d make an exception.” She sent him a wink.

EZ chuckled as he buried his face into his menu to hide his blush. He knew it should be easy enough just to go up and talk to her but he was so damn nervous and incredibly rusty. He just didn’t know how to approach her. As silly as it seemed he was terrified to even entertain the idea of dating after his stint in prison. And his deal with the feds only complicated things more. It was probably for the best he hadn’t and just kept his distance from her.

Jenny glanced over to where Mikaela and the Reyes boys were seated. She caught EZ chuckling as he buried himself into the menu. She smiled to herself as she continued wiping down the counter. She wouldn't lie, she had a slight crush on the younger Reyes brother ever since she first saw him come in with Angel and Felipe the day he got out.

Of course, she knew his story, everyone did. When she had heard the news of the tragedy that struck their family her heart broke. It seemed as everything was stacked against the family and now, here they were back together again, getting a second chance to be a family once more.

Mikaela took the menus back from the boys, snatching the one from EZ to stop him from hiding.“I’ll just go ahead and get you two your usuals.” They could look all they wanted but she knew they’d go for the same things they always did.

“Thank you, mi amor.”

Mikaela slipped off Angel’s lap using his thigh to help steady her. She let her hand linger just a little longer then gave his knee a loving squeeze. He grabbed onto her hand before she could pull away, keeping her until she gave him one more kiss. “I think you’re forgetting something, mi dulce.”

“Nope, I don’t think so,” she teased leaving him hanging, “I’ll be back.” She promised sending him a wink before she spun around walking away from them.

Angel shook his head at her not being able to help the smile. She was something else and she was all his. He sat back in the booth licking his lips as he watched her walk away from them in her sinfully short red skirt she had to wear as part of her uniform. He hated to see her leave but he sure loved to watch her go.

“You really have no shame do you?”

“At least I’m watching what’s mine and not just creepily staring at some girl I won’t even talk to.” Angel shot back giving EZ a look.

Mikaela swung by giving the two’s orders to the cook along with four others before coming back around the corner settling down on a stool on the opposite side of the counter from Jenny. She rested her elbow onto the sparkly white countertop resting her head in her hand as she watched Jenny waiting until she’d give her her attention as she would always do when she wanted something from the younger girl.

Jenny left the damp rag down on the counter. She looked back at her as she wiped her hands off on her skirt.“What do you want?” She playfully narrowed her eyes at Mikaela with a hint of a smile.

“Why do you just assume I automatically want something?” She played innocent even though both of them knew exactly why.

“Because you are you.” Jenny stated matter of factly, “and you always want something.”

“Fine,” Mikaela gave in. “Take a break and come have lunch with us, Quinn and Coco should be here soon. It’ll be fun.”

“I really shouldn’t,” Jenny tried to protest. She still had two other tables to clear off and wasn’t due for a break for another hour or so.

“Oh come on don’t make me beg. It’ll be nice,” Mikaela insisted, “I’ll help you with your tables before. The place is pretty much dead right now anyway. It won’t hurt anything to take your lunch a little earlier.” She knew how Jenny was and that she’d give her a little push back but the girl worked too much. She needed this. “Plus I already put in an order for you so unless you come to eat with us all that food will just go to waste and I know for a fact a certain someone would really love it if you did.” She added singing as she glanced EZ’s way.

Jenny tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear glancing over at EZ herself. She felt silly and childish with her little crush but she couldn’t help the butterflies and hope she felt when Mikaela hinted at EZ. She didn’t know whether that part was true or not but knew she couldn’t let the food go to waste or say no to Mikaela. Mikaela was just the kind of friend she needed in her life, someone who pushed her out of her comfort zone and took care of her, made sure she took care of herself too.

“Okay, fine.” she gave in, “but I’m holding you to that part about helping me finish clearing tables.”

“Wouldn’t let you do it yourself anyway babe.”

Once the tables were cleared the two girls brought the orders back to the guys who scooted over making room for them. Mikaela slid in next to Angel with Jenny opposite her next to EZ. She and Angel exchanged a knowing look as EZ and Jenny began making small talk.

“If Coco and Quinn don’t get their asses here soon I’m going to eat their food for them,” Angel commented after having sat waiting on the two for a few minutes now. Mikaela had told him they had to wait before they could eat but he was getting impatient.

“Just give them a few more minutes.” Mikaela squeezed his thigh. She knew how Angel could get when he was hungry. “They can’t be that much longer.”

Coco and Quinn finally entered the diner with a ding of the door. Coco followed her in letting her lead the way to the booth in the back where they had spotted the rest of their party.

“It’s about damn time. You two better have been fucking or something good to keep us waiting, the damn food is going to be cold.” Angel grumbled.

“Oh I wish,” Quinn slid onto the bench next to Jenny pushing her further in causing her to bump into EZ. “Unfortunately though it’s because we had to chase Mia all through the house to get her to put some clothes on.”

Angel relaxed laughing at the image of his goddaughter running around. He could picture it perfectly, having had plenty of time to witness the very same scene happen while they had been staying with Quinn and Coco.

“Something she learned from the fucking encouragement of her tio Angel,” Coco added pulling a chair up to the end of the table. “She only does it because she knows you think it’s so fuckin’ funny.”

Mia learned many things from her him, usually things that would irritate her parents later. She was always very attached to Angel and became even more so ever since they had been staying with them after moving out of Angel’s small apartment. They needed a place to crash until they could get into a new house of their own. The latest thing Mia had picked up was running around naked giggling as she refused to put on any clothing for the day.

“It’s not funny, asshole,” Quinn couldn’t help laughing a little herself as she threw a napkin over at him. It was a little funny, especially seeing how worked up Coco could get.

“Just wait until you two have kids,” Coco chimed in, pointing his butter knife at Angel and Mikaela. “Then it’s going to be your fuckin’ problem and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“We can handle it, right babe?” Angel turned to Mikaela.

“I think we’ll be just fine.” She agreed, snuffing in closer wrapping her arm around his waist.

The group had finished their meals and were now just enjoying the little amount of downtime they had left before the guys had to head back out and the girls had to go back to work. There was lots of chatter, teasing, and laughing during their conversations. Having these types of normal, quiet moments were crucial to keeping Angel grounded and sane amongst the chaos of the club and the rebels. Really it was crucial to every one of them.

Mikaela and Jenny had begun gathering the dishes when they couldn’t prolong their break any longer. “You’re still going to pick up some paint for us this weekend, right?” Mikaela asked EZ as she grabbed his basket from him and then his glasses stacking it on top.

“Yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Jenny you should go with EZ,” She suggested, seeing a perfect opportunity for the two to get some one-on-one time. “You know better than anyone what I have in mind. And quite frankly there’s no one I trust more to get it right. And it has to be absolutely perfect.” She had been meticulous about her decorating plans for their new home and needed a very specific shade of green to complete their kitchen.

“I literally have a photographic memory.” EZ piped in. “You don’t trust that?”

Angel wanted to smack his brother across the back of the head. For someone who was so damn smart, he could be really stupid at times. He was going to blow his shot with Jenny before he even realized he had one.

“Not as much as I trust Jenny,” Mikaela said with a smile knowing exactly what she was doing. “You don’t mind going do you?” She asked her.

Jenny felt a little put on the spot but didn’t mind. She didn’t have anything else planned for the weekend. “No, I don’t mind at all. Unless of course, you’d rather go alone or with someone else.” Jenny added nervously as she turned to face EZ. She didn’t want to be that person throwing themselves into plans where they aren’t wanted.

“No, of course not, I’d love it if you came with me.” EZ stumbled as he tried to get the words out a little too quickly.

“Great!” Mikaela clapped her hands together. “It’s a date then!”

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list please just let me know 💖

Eternal Twin Flames Tag List: @carlaangel86 @starrynite7114 @jasminee97 @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @queenbeered @chibsytelford @toni9

#Eternal Twin Flames #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc x oc #angel reyes x oc #ez reyes x oc #johnny coco cruz x oc #Angel Reyes x Mikaela Lopez #EZ Reyes x Jenny Lawson #Coco Cruz x Quinn Blake

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makeste · 5 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 267: My Name Is

Previously on BnHA: Hawks stabbed Twice in the back of the head. Twice stabbed another guy in the back of the head. Everyone’s just running around stabbing or being stabbed. I should probably clarify that Twice actually died, because this is a shounen manga, so sometimes you have to clarify that this particular stabbing was actually fatal. Not just one of those flesh wound stabbings. Anyway so it was super sad, and now Dabi’s gonna face off with the sexy scarred murderous Hawks, and Toga and Compress are also going to be feeling a bit stabby after all this probably, and so that’s the general mood here I guess. I kind of need a break now so I’m wondering if we’re gonna cut to any of the kids. Because if we stick around Horikoshi may actually have to give us Dabi flashbacks. God forbid.

Today on BnHA: Tokoyami has a flashback to when Hawks told him he’s weak to being set on fire. This terrible thought weighs on his mind as he and the other lads and lasses of U.A.’s child soldier vanguard are escorted away from the battle via Fatgum and his absolute goat of a quirk. Dabi is all “:D you killed Twice, I’m gonna set you on fire repeatedly now” and Hawks is all “ffff no that’s my weakness also WHO ARE YOU” and WE GET SOME HAWKS FLASHBACKS?! and then Dabi is all “:DDDDDD [CENSORED]” and it’s literally fucking censored fuck my life. but also !!! because he actually fucking said it, though?? He really went and revealed it just like that?? And now Hawks knows, and he’s all shocked, and Dabi goes to kill him afterwards but TOKOYAMI IS ALL “ON YOUR LEFT!!!!” and OH SHIT. Also Endeavor saves Miruko so DOUBLE OH SHIT. Oh my god. I’m sorry this summary is all over the place but I can barely type a coherent sentence now so just TAKE THESE EXCLAMATION POINTS AND GO!!! SPREAD THE WORD. BE FREE.

everyone before we begin I would just like to tell you about my discovery this week. I learned that when I type the word “Dabi” on my phone the next word that the keyboard predicts is “flashbacks.” google keyboard is on to me. so now the FBI and the CIA and whoever else google is selling all my data to all know. I can only imagine. “she seems to spend an inordinate amount of time talking about ‘Dabi flashbacks.’ what’s a Dabi.” I’ll tell you what a Dabi is. it’s a guy whose fucking flashbacks we never fucking get that’s what

anyway so let’s read this chapter whose spoiler tags have already been filling up my dashboard, which is always a good sign. who will die this week? Horikoshi please have mercy on us in light of recent real life global events. maybe you can just have everyone abruptly decide that they are all done fighting and want to go home

-- GOD BLESS US EVERYONE

who could have known, years ago when the very first mangaka was drawing the very first color page, that this medium would one day soar to such great heights. who could have imagined that we would one day be witness to this masterwork, this magnificent fucking triumph of a colored manga page. holy shit. I will cherish this always

for real you all think I’m joking but I genuinely don’t want to scroll down lol. let’s just stay with Miruko forever. where it is safe. and sexy. goddammit

OH SURE, THEY GIVE US HAWKS FLASHBACKS

anyways but lol

guys. we’ve been over this. fire is everyone’s weakness. just. I’m not quite sure people like Hawks and Kamui Woods actually grasp that. do they think normal people catch on fire and they’re just “oh, this is actually all right.” also, side note kids, please don’t use this answer if this ever comes up during a job interview

wow

what a gamechanging plan of action. don’t catch on fire. Toko write that down

WOW

you guys. YOU GUYS. IT GOT BETTER

who could have known, years ago when the very first mangaka was drawing the very first gag panel, that this format would one day ascend to such lofty summits. who could have envisaged that we would one day behold such a showpiece, such a grand fucking slam of a joke panel in a shounen manga

anyway Horikoshi sure does love his English portmanteaus. I’m kind of stunned by how great this is you guys. but getting back to more serious observations, all I can say is thank fucking god somebody is actually thinking of the children! nothing terrible had better happen to them or I swear!!

so Fatgum is explaining that the plan was to have them use their respective quirks to help take out a bunch of bad guys at once, and that the grown-ups will now proceed to rope them all in and capture them. and dammit, I was trying to avoid having to post the panel because it takes forever if I post a lot of them, but I just noticed Mt. Lady over there stomping fools in the background and so now I have no choice

A+ chapter so far you guys. 5 stars. keep it up

one-and-a-half year-old Kaminari Denki has already fallen asleep. he wishes he could live there. I wish I had the words to adequately convey how utterly delighted I have been by this entire “everyone rides around in Fatgum’s belly” mini-arc, which is now my favorite part of the entire series (as always with the exception of “Dear Midoriya I’m really sorry”)

and I also just really love the timing of it?? right after the “here’s that angst you ordered” emotional sobfest of the last chapter, we’re taking a quick break to cut back to the Fatgum Express (excuse me, Fataxi) just to keep things from getting too heavy. this is such an important balance to strike. please don’t let this arc get too dark, Horikoshi

oh shit

right, Dabi?? but I’ve had an entire week to process my feelings about it and I’m more or less good now! how are you

not particularly great, then

and also, fuck. so Horikoshi was gracious enough not to show Twice’s murdered body even though he confirmed he was indeed killed (so apologies to anyone who was still holding out hope. it sucks but at least we’ve got closure). first he cuts off the bottom of the panel, and then he has Dabi literally cremate him on the fucking spot. there’s really going to be nothing left at all of him or any of the clones. I’m just gonna sit here and try not to think about that or else I’ll get sad all over again

anyway, so also Hawks’s wings have been totally incinerated now it looks like, and he’s just barely yeeting himself out of the way with whatever he’s got left

boy this is getting rough

love how Horikoshi is avoiding showing Dabi’s face!! that was sarcasm by the way because I don’t love it! he pulls this shit all the time with Bakugou too! show us their emotions dammit!

anyway. how kind of Dabi to stomp out Hawks’s flames for him like that. you see. they’re still friends

HOLY SHIT

APPARENTLY IT IS??? I GUESS WE ALL GRIEVE DIFFERENTLY LMAO. SOME PEOPLE GET SAD AND CRY AND OTHERS JUST GET REALLY SCARY AND CRAZY

like. not to nitpick or anything, but your tear glands are actually located above your eyes. maybe he means his tear ducts. also I’m not a doctor or anything and I can barely name like three bones actually so maybe I should just shut up!

anyways though, out of courtesy let’s just take Dabi at his word that grinning like a deranged lunatic is a perfectly normal response to watching your friend get murdered by your sexy archenemy. who is to say

and what exactly is your dream again? to make Stain’s will a reality or something like that? so purging the world of false heroes I guess?

DAMMIT DABI FIRE IS HIS WEAKNESS

most people would at least scream, wouldn’t they? Hawks??? does that not hurt??!

DSFKJSL:DKGHLSDKGHL

no!! I won’t be fooled!! Horikoshi and Dabi flashbacks is like Wile E. Coyote and painting a fake tunnel onto a cliffside! don’t be conned by his deceitful forced perspective!

LOL YOU SEE

apparently this man really will do anything to keep us from getting a Dabi flashback, even if that means giving us Hawks flashbacks instead lmao. WELL SHOOT. OH DARN. POOR US. WE’LL JUST HAVE TO SETTLE try not to look too happy guys he can sense satisfaction

anyway so here’s baby Hawks

okay, so -- does fandom still hate Hawks. like, I haven’t checked the bnha tag much since this weekend so I don’t know if the general consensus is still “yeah he’s cancelled” or if we’re cooling down at all yet? anyway so I apologize if liking Hawks is still A Wrong Thing To Do, but just fyi he’s still adopted and I haven’t unadopted him and I love him unconditionally even though he’s in timeout. and so now that Baby Hawks has appeared to rival all other Baby Characters (BABY YODA WATCH YOUR SIX!!) with his lil wings and his Endeavor plush and his quiet lil nodding head, I just need you all to know that I would die for him without hesitation and that’s just how it is friends

(ETA: also, jesus christ. “Keigo-kun, you can say goodbye to your name from now on!" I’m surprised they didn’t assign him a fucking number. what the fuck. time for some grueling training, lab rat #184. better get ready. jesus. he’s like 7.)

sdlkfjLSDGHOSIDFOIOOIIO

THE MAN THAT -- WHAT. WELL HOT DAMN, TAKAMI THEORISTS! GO ON AND GIVE YOURSELVES A BIG PAT ON THE BACK. YOU EARNED IT.

snap. gotta calm down. too much hype all of a sudden. easy does it

OH ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT’S IT??

noooo go back. fuck

and how the hell do you still have eyebrows, Hawks. how are you still even alive, let alone sexy. is fire your weakness?? is it really??! WELCOME TO BNHA THE MANGA WHERE ANYONE CAN SURVIVE ANYTHING. EXCEPT FOR BEING KILLED OFF-SCREEN AFTER WEEKS AND WEEKS OF BUILDUP

WHAT THE MONUMENTAL FUCK

HORIKOSHI WHERE ARE YOU I’M READY AND WILLING TO VIOLATE SOCIAL DISTANCING RIGHT NOW TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE SO COME ON

what the fuck. is this a Tarantino movie. or an Eminem song. anyway but we all know what he actually said though so let’s just scroll down and see how Hawks is going to take the news

oh my. I suddenly understand Dabi’s “grinning like a lunatic” reaction to witnessing a tragedy now. ohhhhhh that’s the good angst right there

so now Dabi says that if he wasn’t Hawks’s target in the beginning, then Hawks “would’ve been done for from the start”? ...what. lol what. am I just too tired to understand this you guys. I’m so confused

okay well I still have no fucking clue what that all meant but on the next panel he’s saying that Hawks shouldn’t have been focusing on Tomura or the League

is he suggesting that he has the power to bring down the hero system by revealing that he, the son of Endeavor, was made into a villain? am I reading into this right?

holy moses. I can’t believe this is really happening. this plotline is finally on the move oh my god I can’t even I’m getting way too excited I can’t??

HEY WHAT

well it matters to me you big melodramatic jerk!! don’t even pretend like you’re really gonna do it. I have zero fear of Hawks actually dying right now, not after that. there is way too much plot attached to him, gtfo with this fakeout shit

but more importantly, why the fuck are we cutting to Gigantomachia now oh shit. don’t tell me Fatgum got the babies out of there just in time

FUCK ME I NEARLY SCREAMED OUT LOUD

HE CAN BE ACTIVATED BY THE RECORDING OF AFO!! SOMEONE HAS THE FUCKING ON SWITCH IN THEIR HANDS OH SHIT, THERE’S THE DISASTER WE WERE ALL FUCKING WAITING FOR RIGHT THERE

WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO MIRUKO NOW??? CAN THIS CHAPTER GET ANY MORE HYPE MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS

let the bodies hit the floor let the bodies hit the floor let the bodies hit the floor let the bodies hit the [deep breath] FLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO --

OH NO!?

okay like any reasonable person I am very concerned by the implications of this. and yet a part of me just wants to focus entirely on the “AM I GETTING TIRED AFTER LOSING AN ARM AND A SHITLOAD OF BLOOD AND FIGHTING FIVE NOUMUS ALL BY MYSELF FOR LIKE AN HOUR? ...NAH.” you’re absolutely right Miruko that would be ridiculous

ARE YOU SERIOUS

either she’s about to die and she knows it, or SHE WAS JUST TOYING WITH THEM WHAAAAT. I genuinely don’t even know which it is?? but it better not be the former and it absolutely is the latter though

GOSH DARN THAT MIRUKO

THERE SHE GOES. MY CZARINA

excuse me did this guy just fucking impale her

SHE ONLY HAS THE ONE GOOD HAND LEFT LIKE CAN YOU PLEASE. can you fucking not, though?! and also I forgot that being impaled through the torso is another thing in this series that’s actually fatal. well fuck

(ETA: also he ripped out her hair!! look here you piece of shit I’m gonna --)

lmao but yeah, somehow

Horikoshi. if you kill off your one cool strong top ten female hero character. just so you know. I will. ...you know what, just don’t do it, how about that. just don’t

ohhhhhh I might be about to get really mad you guys. we’ll see. we’lllllll see

SON OF A BITCH

GODDAMMIT, OBVIOUSLY TOMURA CAN’T FUCKING DIE SO WHY DON’T YOU FUCK OFF WITH THIS ENTIRE SCENARIO YOU’RE PRESENTING TO US RIGHT NOW HORIKOSHI, HOW ABOUT THAT. fuck everything I can’t believe chapter 267 page 16 was the last page of the entire manga you guys. tell me I’m reading way too much into this

ffffff

you literally had the perfect chapter. Fataxi!! Baby Hawks!! censored Touya reveals!! why would you go and. ...

I knew it was a mistake reading past that amazing color page you guys

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OH MY GOD I DIDN’T SCREAM BUT I SAID “HA HA!” OUT LOUD?!

-- AND AGAIN!!!!!

YOU WANT SOME??? YOU WANT SOME?!?!

FUCK YES. EXCUSE ME WHILE I CRACK OPEN THE WINDOW AND SHOUT SOME EARNEST “WOOOOOOO!!”S DOWN UNTO THE CONFUSED STREETS BELOW

y’all. I was this close to cancelling every damn thing. you don’t even know. my god I think I was grinding my teeth there

“you know what this manga has had quite enough of as of last week? tragic deaths! you know what it has not had nearly enough of? dramatic last minute saves! you know what it hasn’t had any of? TOKOYAMI VERSUS DABI, A.K.A. YOUR NEW FAVORITE MATCH-UP OF ALL TIME, YOU’RE FUCKING WELCOME.” geez. calm down Horikoshi. be cool man be cool

you guys. it was almost perfect, and then it wasn’t, and then it very much was. my god. how did I not see that Tokoyami save coming with all that buildup in hindsight. clearly he saw the fire on page four and was all “oh no! his weakness”

only thing is. it’s yours too, bud. :/ don’t think I’ve forgotten how this all played out during the forest arc. and meanwhile on top of that we’ve got Gigantomachia about to have the rudest of awakenings. goddammit. why is everything so dangerous and so awesome thanks I love it but geez

#bnha 267 #dabi #hawks #tokoyami fumikage #miruko #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste spoiler recap #makeste reads bnha #plot twist he wasn't actually revealing his name in that panel #he was just unleashing a tirade of vicious cursing #that's why hawks looks so shocked afterwards #really touya #this is a kid's manga

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ghostiewriter · 4 years ago

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chapter one | tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

Summary: JJ is starting to gain recognition around New York as the new hero in town. However, some complications arise with his new chemistry partner. Oh, and turns out he isn’t the only bloke around here with powers.

Warnings: John B is a simp, I feel like that needs a warning tbh. Umm there’s a lot of swearing (I’m Scottish, don’t judge), again some violence and fighting, also some cute ass moments between JJ and his mum so enjoy that

Word Count: 8.1K

A/N: Sooo there’s finally some Jiara in this chapter!! Hope you enjoy👀and I’m not responsible for any feels caused by JJ and Georgia Maybank!!

masterlist // taglist // ao3

“Spider-Man does it again! Report of our favourite web-slinging hero saving the day once again after a fatal accident left an apartment complex on the corner of 5th and 36th street in flames. The teen hero arrived at the scene not long after the distress call was made to the local fire department and managed to rescue over twelve people that were trapped on the top floor. New York thanks Spider-Man once again.”

JJ grinned as he leaned back in his seat, sparing a smug look towards John B in the driver’s seat. JJ didn’t usually carpool with John B but it was getting colder and his extra-curricular activities were wearing him exhausted by morning. Plus, the last time JJ skated to school when he was half asleep, Pope had to pull him out of a trash can. Turns out raccoons can be very territorial and did not appreciate the blond taking a small visit into their home. He was pretty sure he still had scars on his back from some of those little bastards.

“Three weeks on the job and you already have a little fanbase,” John B commented, reaching over to turn the radio down a little since the reporter moved onto some irrelevant news neither of the boys cared about. “Soon you’ll have a swarm of fangirls chasing after you while you fight crime.”

“Don’t be jealous, JB,” JJ grinned, both arms behind his head as he looked at the passing view. “I’m sure one of my groupies will slum it down for you.” He teased, only laughing when he felt the flick on his forehead.

As much as he hated to admit it, JJ had seriously enjoyed the past three weeks. They were intense, impulsive and unpredictable. Just how JJ liked his life to be. It wasn’t easy at first though, it took a good few attempts before the people of New York actually labelled him as a hero. Maybe it was because he was some young bloke who popped out of nowhere with abilities that no could really understand. Or maybe it was because he was going around in a red ski mask, blue shirt, a red vest with an awfully drawn spider on it and some blue joggers. He looked like a right on idiot, especially with the chunky goggles Pope added to his costume. But if it kept his identity secret, then so be it. The last thing JJ wanted was a bunch of journalists swarming his apartment, especially since he wanted to keep this whole alter ego away from his parents. In fact, he wanted to keep it away from anyone who wasn’t John B or Pope.

It was safer that way.

“At least that’s one more that Pope.” John B said nonchalantly.

“As if, dude!” JJ scoffed, grinning at the distressed—and fairly high pitched—‘WHAT’ that came from the brunette. “Oh, c’mon, Pope created a whole ass bat signal for me! You just sit there and look pretty! Pope gets at least two groupies.” He said with a shrug.

It was true. JJ knew Pope was smart, but this was next level. After realising that JJ wasn’t getting the recognition he needed to be labelled a ‘superhero’, Pope had come up with the ingenuous idea to infiltrate the police radio stations. Not only did they have full access to updates on crimes around the city, but Pope even felt a little fancy and made it so JJ would get a notification sent to his phone the second there was a job for Spider-Man. That boy was way too smart for his own good, but JJ was grateful for it.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” John B asked with a teasing grin.

“Yeah,” JJ smiled, reaching to place his hand on John B’s shoulder with a squeeze. “Pretty fucking ugly.”

John B’s smile instantly dropped as he scowled at JJ, who was happily snickering at the sudden change in mood. “Whatever, Spider-boy.”

“Yikes, low blow.”

The rest of the journey was spent in a similar vibe, except with JJ checking his phone every five minutes. He couldn’t help it, but the past three weeks had been some of the most exciting in his life. JJ had been labelled the troublemaker his whole life, the one that was throwing pencils into Mrs Ramirez’s curls because they looked like little hoops. Or even just doing his damn best to avoid the work he was given. It was a force of habit. JJ’s brain was running at a million miles a second. Nothing could hold him down, keep him entertained for longer than thirty minutes at most. And his teachers had constantly reminded him that his impulsive nature and high energy would lead him nowhere good in life.

All JJ had to say to them now was a massive ‘FUCK YOU!’ because how wrong they were. It was those qualities that made JJ the perfect hero. He could react quick to a sudden change, he was always on his feet, he had found something that not only could he channel all his energy into—but he was damn good at it as well. John B and Pope had warned him that it was best to keep himself humble, to not get too arrogant. But who was he kidding? JJ made a pretty fucking bomb superhero and everyone loved him. It seemed like he deserved to feel arrogant, to soak in his time in the spotlight. He enjoyed every single second.

So, can you really blame JJ for checking his phone, wanting an excuse to put that mask on and do the one thing he is good at? Except for skateboarding. Everyone knew JJ was the best skater in Queens.

Unfortunately, there was no sudden crimes that JJ could use as excuse to ditch school. A true tragedy, if you asked him. It seems like he will just have to suffer through another day of learning things that either happened way too long ago, didn’t make sense to him or he just truly didn’t care about. Which just happened to be basically every subject—excluding wood-shop. Except he was taken out of the class because apparently making mini bongs for birds is not okay. Who would’ve thought.

“I don’t see what the issue is—it’s a fool-proof plan!” John B argued as the two boys made their way through the corridors of Midtown High. Only stopping once they reached John B’s locker where he exchanged his books and JJ checked out the hallway for anything that caught his eye.

“Bro, you have a ten-year plan to end up with Sarah Cameron,” JJ stated bluntly. “And even then, you end up as her second husband—“

“No one can prove what happened to the first.”

“It’s fucking sad, JB.”

“It’s a solid plan.” John B stated simply and shrugged his shoulders, deciding to ignore JJ as he rolled his eyes, muttering something about John B being a ‘hopeless fool’. John B only grinned wider and glanced at his watch before whispering a small ‘shit’ to himself. “I gotta go, see you at lunch.” And with that, John B was zooming his way down the corridor.

“You know it’s really creepy that you plan when you bump into her!” JJ called down the corridor, but he doubted John B heard him. “Like really fucking creepy…like restraining order level creepy!

Once he noticed John B’s head turn the corner, undoubtedly on his way to ‘coincidentally’ bump into Sarah Cameron, JJ calmly made his way to his first period class, not in a big rush to get there.

**********

You see, after the incident in wood shop and many others after that, the school had taken the decision to move JJ into a class they deemed more valuable of his time. Chemistry. Stick the ADHD kid in a room full of chemicals…seemed about right. However, JJ was being transferred half way through the term with absolutely no knowledge in chemistry other than how to make a Molotov cocktail. Therefore, he didn’t really see an issue in showing up to a class he was already hopeless in. His teacher disagreed.

“Mr Maybank, it’s nice of you to finally join us.” Mr Marino—a middle-aged bald man who had looked as though he had been through one too many divorces and contained most of his knowledge in the form of his beer belly—commented as JJ entered the class.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe what happened to me!” JJ sighed dramatically.

“Let me guess: your alarm didn’t go off.”

“It was my pet monkey, sir. Has a mind of its own.”

“Your pet monkey?”

“Yup, his name is JB. Nasty wee guy but I keep him around, he’s a good laugh. Could do with a shower though.”

“Take a seat, Maybank.”

“I can feel the love.” JJ grinned before he turned to look at the class. It was set up with eight workbenches, two seats at each. His eyes scanned over each one before he caught an empty seat at the back-left workbench, the only empty seat—and just his luck it was next to the curly haired beauty for the trip.

JJ was starting to think he might actually enjoy this class.

“We just keep meeting, sweetheart. I think it’s a sign.” JJ whispered to her as he took his seat next to her, definitely sitting a little closer than he had to. He tried not to smirk when he noticed her subtly moving away from him. JJ always loved a challenge.

“Or a punishment.” She replied bluntly, not even sparing JJ a glance.

“Aw, is this how it’s going to be for the rest of the year, princess?” JJ muttered with a pout. He tried not to smile when she finally turned to look at him.

“Rafe got a concussion.” She hissed.

“So?” JJ frowned.

“So? You caused it!”

“And I should care because?”

“He is banned from the football team for six weeks!”

JJ stared at her blankly. “And…?”

“He is the captain!”

“Boohoo, they’ll survive without him.” JJ shrugged, leaning back in his stool as he flashed her one of his usual girl-charming smiles. “But hey, if you’re really stressed out about it, I’m sure I can help you find a way to relax.”

“You’re a pig.” She stated with a small huff, stubbornly turning to face the front, planning to not even give him the chance to redeem himself. Trust me when I say Kiara is an open person, always there to give people a second chance. But JJ Maybank was not one of those people. In the three times she had met him, he had been nothing but a shameless flirt who had no care for the world beyond his sex life. She could be judging him too quickly, but in her defence, he hadn’t given her anything else to work with.

However, Kiara assumed her behaviour was clear enough that she didn’t want to talk to him, that she could gladly go the rest of the year without willingly speaking to him. But this is JJ. Hyperactive, unable to sit still JJ. He didn’t get the hint.

“So, do anything interesting this weekend?” JJ asked her, that classic smirk of his on his lips. But she didn’t answer him. Instead, she kept her gaze on Mr Marino and his oh-so interesting talk on bond orbitals within an atom.

JJ raised his eyebrows when he received no reply from her. “Giving me the silent treatment now? That’s a bit rude.” He commented.

“So is giving someone a concussion.” She stated.

“Do you want to know what I did?” JJ asked.

“No.”

“Geez, princess, no one ever taught you manners?” He teased, taking the pen he was spinning between his fingers to gently poke her arm. She only huffed and moved her seat further away.

“Okay, alright, fine! I get it…” JJ trailed off, and Kiara couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. But she spoke to soon. She heard the scrape of a chair and suddenly she could feel the warmth of JJ right beside her, their elbows just touching.

“Is there an issue, Mr Maybank?” She heard Mr Marino call out but the boy next to her just shook his head, that mischievous glint shining in his eyes.

“No, please carry on, Alan.” The blond replied, his fingers tapping against the worktop counter.

Kiara sighed. She knew very well that she could put her hand up and complain, or even ask Mr Marino to change seats after class ended. But she was stubborn, and she would be damned if she gave JJ that satisfaction of knowing that he got under her skin.

This was going to be a long year.

**********

“She called me JB! That basically takes three years off my plan!”

“Dude, I don’t know if this is really sad or creepy now…” JJ grimaced. He had spent the last fifteen minutes listening to John B and his ‘coincidental’ encounter with Sarah Cameron. And if he was being honest, he was concerned for his friend. And his stomach…this boy needed to let JJ eat his lunch before he had to hear one more comment about how ‘yellow is totally her colour’.

“I mean, it just compliments her complexion so well! C’mon, how many people do you know that can pull of yellow and not looked totally washed out!” John B argued. But JJ just met him with a blank stare.

“When the fuck did you become a fashion expert?” JJ spoke up, his nose scrunched in confusion.

“I took a class once.”

JJ looked at him with his mouth agape. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Piss off, I wanted to learn how to dress better.”

“Says the guy that wears horrible thrifted Hawaiian shirts.” JJ deadpanned. John B only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back onto Sarah.

JJ followed his line of sight towards Sarah Cameron and her group, and he was shocked at the sight. He noticed the usual people in their uptown outfits and obnoxious laughs he could unfortunately hear from his seat. But it was the sight of his chemistry partner looking quite cosy under Rafe’s arm that caught him off-guard. His eyebrows furrowed a little, but hey, JJ should have seen this coming. The uptown kids like to stick with each other. Yet, JJ couldn’t help but find the sight quite uncomfortable to look at—Rafe had that effect on people. It was a surprise he managed to score…JJ paused. He had spent a whole hour with her and yet, he didn’t even know her name.

He nudged John B, yet neither one of them looked away from the group. “Hey JB, who’s Sarah’s new chick?”

“Who?”

“The pretty curly haired one standing next to her, dumbass.”

“Oh…I don’t actually know—“

“—Kiara Carrera. Relocated here from Kernersville, North Carolina. Her father owns a large chain of restaurants around the country. She is also the only junior other than yours truly doing three AP classes, including environmental science, biology and English.” Pope finished, panting a little considering he had literally just ran into the cafeteria and heard the last few words of their conversation.

JJ looked up at Pope with a mix of awe and fear. “What, you forgot her national insurance number as well? How the fuck do you know all that?”

“The school files.” Pope answered easily as he turned his laptop around and with the screen facing them, JJ decided he was definitely a little scared of Pope.

“Those are meant to be locked away in some super, secret network thing!” JJ hissed, only to be met with a smirking Pope.

“As if, it’s easy as fuck to hack something as amateur as the school’s firewall. Could do it with my eyes closed.” He grinned at the two of them. “Why, JJ? Hiding something from us like…I don’t know…your middle name being Belinda.” He snickered.

“YOUR NAME IS BELINDA?!” John B gasped, looking at JJ with wide eyes.

“Shut up, would you!” JJ hissed at the both of them, leaning over the table to flick John B on the forehead. “I was named after my grandmother.”

“Aww, Grammie Belinda.” John B cooed. JJ only glared at him.

“Hey, Grammie Belinda was a saint, don’t disrespect her like that.” JJ huffed, pointing a finger towards John B. He then turned to Pope who had made himself comfortable in the seat next to him.

“Why were you asking about Kiara?” Pope asked JJ, snatching a few chips from his plate. JJ swatted his hand away but didn’t stop Pope from doing it again. “Does JJ have a little crush?” He teased, pouting a little.

“Piss off,” JJ laughed as he nudged Pope with his shoulder. “She’s just my chemistry partner.”

“Ooh, so you guys have chemistry together?” John B grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Fuck off, JB. Go back to stalking your little uptown princess.” JJ commented, returning the grin as both friends shook their head. They both knew the other meant no harm.

“Well, if you two little lovebirds are done having your moment,” Pope piped up, both boys looking over at him. “I need you to meet me on your rooftop at nine sharp tonight.”

“Damn, Pope, finally taking me out?”

“You wish, Spider-Boy,” He grinned, but the look he was giving made JJ a little nervous for what Pope had hidden up his sleeve. It could honestly range from a pet raccoon he befriended to creating some weird Frankenstein bug. “Just be there.”

John B pouted. “What about me?! Is this where I become the third-wheel?”

**********

“Mama?”

“In here!”

JJ dropped his bag by the couch as he made his way to the kitchen, the soft sound of the click telling him the door shut behind him. He sniffed the air as he walked in, seeing his mum at the stove and grinned a little, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“What’s for dinner?” He asked, peeking over her shoulder.

“Spaghetti,” She hummed, a soft smile on her lips as she peeked a glance at her son. “How was school?”

“The usual,” He answered with a shrug as he made his way to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water before heading towards his usual spot on the counter. “Teachers still don’t appreciate my comments, Pope said smart things I didn’t understand and JB was a love-sick puppy.”

She grinned, shaking her head a little. “I find John B’s attempts to woo that girl quite admirable actually,” She commented. “It wouldn’t kill you to be a hopeless romantic every once in a while.” Yet, she only laughed when she saw JJ’s face scrunch up in disgust.

Despite JJ’s reputation for being an adrenaline junkie who loves to live life on the edge, these were actually his favourite moments. The little moments he shared with his mum, just the two of them. It is one of the few moments in his life where he feels relaxed, no expectations or pressures. And as sappy as it sounded—and no offence to John B and Pope—but JJ wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was one of his best friends, one of the few people in his life he truly cared about. People like her are the reason he enjoys being Spider-Man, because despite the shit people in the world, there were some genuinely good people out there, like Georgia Maybank.

It was hard to believe JJ and Georgia Maybank were related. She was a sweetheart, the type of woman who would take time out of her own life to volunteer at local food shelters despite having just done a twelve-hour shift at the hospital. She is the type of woman to buy flowers and hand them to strangers on the street just to brighten someone’s day. She is the type of woman who would work her ass off to give her son all that she could, despite the struggles she faced with the bills and rent because her son was her life. She was the opposite of JJ’s hyperactive self.

But boy, did they look very similar. From the sandy blonde hair the two of them shared, to the bright blue eyes, to even the exact same smile. JJ really was a carbon copy of his mother. And there was a small part of her, one she would never outwardly admit, that adored the fact JJ looked so much like her. Like a primal mother instinct, she loved her son and she loved that everyone knew he was her son. She would be damned if someone ever asked her to hide that.

Georgia was the type of mother that had that warm aura around her, the one that made you just trust her with your life. The hugs she gives just makes you want to stay in her arms forever, because everything is just better with Georgia Maybank. JJ knew that and he always reminded himself of that. No matter what shit he gets into, no matter how much he may envy the uptown kids—none of them will ever have Georgia Maybank and he would gladly flaunt that.

He may not have designer clothes or a fancy car to drive to school. But they don’t have Georgia Maybank, dancing around barefoot in the kitchen while she badly sings along to some old 80s song that is playing on the radio, just to make him crack a smile.

JJ grinned as his mother grabbed his hand, pulling off the counter before they jokingly began to waltz around the small kitchen, some classical song playing from the small radio that sat on the counter by the stove. JJ only laughed as he apologized for stepping on her toes again, but she didn’t mind. She just smiled and continued to dance.

“Why do I have to do this? I’m starving, woman!” He whined playfully as he twirled his mum around a few times.

“Because, JJ, one day you’re going to have a beautiful girl—or boy, I won’t assume—that will somehow fall for that charm of yours,” She spoke softly, placing a hand on her son’s cheek, a proud glint in her eyes when he rolled his eyes at her statement but still had a small smile on his face. “And I will be damned if I don’t teach my son how to sweep a girl off her feet.”

“Nothing says romantic like stepping on a girl’s toes.” He stated bluntly.

Georgia only laughed and ruffled his hair before she turned back to the stove. She grabbed two plates, putting in a larger portion for JJ—which with his new transformation wouldn’t actually be enough but he will sneak out during the night to eat the leftovers when she’s asleep—before placing them on the small dining table in the corner, gesturing for him to join her.

The rest of the dinner was fairly uneventful, simply just JJ telling her about John B’s updated seven-year plan with Sarah Cameron and Georgia sharing any particularly interesting stories about patients she had to deal with during her shift. JJ really let this dinner sink in. As much as he loved his mother, her inability to say ‘no’ and be so giving kind of bothered him. Because she had taken up extra shifts for a few of her colleagues due to something about the ‘stress of wedding planning’. JJ had been seeing her less and less—and though it was good for his recent Spider-Man shenanigans—this dinner made him realise just how much he missed her. Just a nice, wee dinner with his mum, nothing else. And everything seemed to be going well, until he heard the radio presenter’s voice flowing through the kitchen.

“Locals say that Spider-Man is the next best thing to happen to New York since deep-fried pizza! But I don’t know, Janet. I mean, who is this kid? Where did he come from? There just seems to be a lot of unanswered questions with this so-called hero. Can we really trust some prepubescent boy who probably spends his day with his head in a textbook? It just doesn’t seem—“

The radio presenter was cut off by Georgia turning the volume down. “People can’t appreciate a good gesture anymore.” She huffed. JJ watched her closely as she finished off washing the last of the dishes before turning to face him, a small frown on her lips.

“I think he’s doing the city a favour.” JJ said half-heartedly with a shrug.

Georgia nodded, her fingers gently fiddling with chain around her neck, well more specifically the gold ring attached to it. “I know but,” She sighed. “What a shame, putting all this pressure on a poor teenage boy. Oh, I feel bad for his parents!”

JJ coughed a little. “It could be his decision, you know.”

Georgia continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “I could only imagine how stressful it would be have your son out there, throwing himself at danger.” She shook her head as she made her way to where JJ still sat at the dining table. “Promise me you wouldn’t do something so careless?” She asked sweetly, gently cupping his face in her hands as she looked down at him.

Now, JJ knew there was a teasing tone to her words. She wasn’t being serious because, how could she? Her son being a superhero with crazy powers? Not possible. She and JJ shared everything and it was because of that he couldn’t help but feel a wave of guilt wash over him. He hated lying to his mum, he hated keeping secrets from her. They were always close, JJ never felt the need to hide things from her. There was always such a comfortable vibe between them. But he knew how she would react if he told her the truth. He knew she would freak out and make him stop. And JJ didn’t want to stop. As much as he hated the guilt that bubbled inside him, he pushed it away and gave her a grin.

“Of course not, I would come up with a better name than Spider-Man.” He joked lightly and closed his eyes when he felt his mum press a kiss to his forehead. He nuzzled his head slightly as he wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against her stomach. He smiled softly when he felt her hands running through his hair, just like the way she used to do when he was younger and struggling to fall asleep. He tried to hold back a yawn.

“That’s my baby boy.” She said with a gentle laugh.

“Mama, I’m a not a baby! I’m a man now.” He whined but he didn’t pull away from her grip just yet. He missed his mum’s hugs, sue him.

“You’ll always be my baby boy.” She commented with a small shrug.

“Yeah, yeah,” He murmured. After a few moments of silence, he looked up at her, giving the best puppy-dog eyes he could. She was always a sucker for those. “Can I go hang out with JB and Pope tonight?” He asked with a sweet smile.

She rolled her eyes but nodded. “Just be back before your father gets home.”

**********

JJ rubbed his hands together as he stared at the view from the roof. New York looked absolutely stunning this time of year, especially at night. The sky was pitch black, and it should’ve seemed daunting. But the bright lights of the city illuminated everything. It was mesmerising, a sight that JJ would never get tired of seeing. And with his newly discovered powers, he found something therapeutic about swinging around the city and being surrounded those bright lights. It felt like he was swinging through the stars—he obviously didn’t share that with the boys, they would take the piss out of him. Speaking of which…

“Where the fuck is he?” JJ hissed, turning to look at John B who only shrugged in response. As much as JJ liked New York at night, it was cold. The lower body temperature caused by the spider bite really didn’t help the situation. He had a hoodie and a jacket on and still the light breeze was making his teeth chatter.

“I don’t know.” John B shrugged. JJ rolled his eyes in annoyance. It was 9:15pm and JJ was about five minutes away from freezing to death.

Just then, the rooftop door opened and a wild Pope was sprinting towards then, panting heavily as he ripped his backpack off and quickly unzipped it. Words were leaving his lips but between the panting, neither of them could work out what he was saying.

“Dude, calm down, breathe!” John B exclaimed. Pope nodded and took a minute to catch himself.

“Your lives are gonna change forever!” He grinned before looking at JJ. “Strip.”

JJ raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Strip.”

“Dude, it’s like fifty fucking degrees, I am not gonna fucking strip!”

“Stop whining and do it!”

JJ huffed and started to take his clothes off, muttering some very…colourful phrases towards Pope. However, he didn’t get much time to question his friend’s demands because the second he was stripped down to his boxers, he had a bunch of fabric thrown at him.

“Wait…is this…?” He trailed off, looking at Pope with a new look of excitement shining in his eyes.

“You bet,” Pope grinned. “Say hello to your brand-new suit, Spider-Man.”

JJ excitedly began to pull the suit on, suddenly forgetting all about his theatrics with the cold. But Pope wasn’t done with his surprise.

“The suit is a total upgrade!” He began, his hands moving wildly as he spoke. “The fabric is strong but flexible. I have added small web-shooters to go over your spinneret glands so you can have a more direct shots. There are a few extra things I’ve added like a small heater to keep you warm and a few sensors, so we can keep track of your vitals. Oh, and for us—” He paused before handing John B a silver bracelet.

John B looked at the bracelet in confusion. “Uh, thanks?”

Pope only grinned and showed John B that he was wearing a similar bracelet. He slipped it off before unclipping a small oval shaped device from the middle of the bracelet. “This is the coolest part,” He nodded for John B to copy his movements. “To be honest, these took the longest. I had JJ’s suit done like two weeks ago but—”

“And you made me wait this long? Dude, I looked like a weirdo running around in joggers!” JJ groaned, but there was no real hostility in his voice.

“Just put on your mask, dude!”

JJ rolled his eyes but didn’t answer as he slipped the mask over his face. He was a bit surprised at how easily he could see through it, way better than the goggles he had before. The suit was a perfect fit—props to Pope after it took an hour to get all of JJ’s measurements. The material was tight and breathable, practically clinging onto JJ like a second skin. Oddly enough, he felt far more comfortable in it than his last costume. Pope clearly liked the colour scheme, having kept the red and blue palette but with a massive spider on his chest, with lines wrapping around him to look like a web. He looked totally badass, he felt badass. He felt like a proper hero from one of those comic books and posters Pope has around his room.

“So, how do I look?” JJ asked, flexing as he gave the boys a little spin. Pope only grinned, proud of his creation. John B gasped, clearly just as hyped as JJ was.

“Dude, your ass looks great.” John B commented, causing JJ to snort.

“When does it not look great?”

“Guys! The last surprise!” Pope piped up, causing both boys to stop staring at JJ’s ass and instead turn to him.

“These little guys,” He said, nodding between the small oval devices in his and John B’s hands. “Are gonna help us keep in contact with you while you’re swinging around. Little ear pieces so we can help you out and keep tabs on you if you need any help.”

“Where’s my bracelet?” JJ frowned beneath the mask.

“You don’t need one, dumbass. Your ear piece is connected into your mask!” Pope grinned proudly. JJ let out a scoff, shaking his head.

“Pope, you fucking genius!” He yelled, and he pulled his friend into a tight hug. John B, feeling a little left out, quickly joined the hug.

“This is so cool, dude, now we are like an actual team!” John B grinned.

Pope was the first to pull back, looking at JJ with a wild look in his eyes. “I think it’s time for Spider-Man to show the city his new look.”

JJ grinned under the mask, already beginning to take a few steps back. “I think you’re right.” And without a second thought, he left himself fall off the edge of the building.

On that October night, New York watched their own hero swing through the streets, letting the cheers and whoops of the strangers sink in. They watched their hero in a new light, a more professional one. The next day, he was no longer that kid running around like some wannabe. He was Spider-Man, the new saviour of New York and a beloved hero.

It was wild what a good new suit could do for your reputation.

**********

“Did you see the pictures The Daily Bugle released?”

“He looked so hot!”

“I’d let him save me any day!”

“You don’t even know what he looks like…”

“So? Have you seen those arms? Nothing else matters!”

JJ couldn’t help but let the smirk on his face grow as he walked through the corridors of the school. It was the day after his new suit reveal and he wasn’t going to lie, he was soaking in all the attention. He was particularly enjoying the twitter thread that was made about his ass. John B didn’t lie, his ass did look good in this new suit.

He continued his way through the sea of students before he made it to his chemistry class, not surprised that people were still talking about Spider-Man. His eyes instantly glanced over at Kiara, who was sitting at their workbench scrolling through her phone.

He grinned as he quickly past the other students and sat quite comfortably in his seat. His eyebrows raised slightly when she didn’t react at first to his appearance. His curiosity got the best of him as he leaned towards her, peeking over her shoulder to see what she was looking at. Now, JJ won’t lie to you, but when he saw her staring at pictures of Spider-Man, his ego definitely inflated a little. Okay, maybe more than a little but you get the point.

“You a fan?” He couldn’t help but ask, trying to keep his smirk to himself.

Kiara quickly snapped her head to look at him, slamming her phone down screen first onto the desk. “Can you mind your business?” She huffed, trying to calm her heartbeat a little. She didn’t even hear him come in, which is odd since usually you could hear JJ from a mile away.

“Aw, c’mon, Kiara! I thought we were besties now.” He grinned to her, wiggling his eyebrows a little. He leaned forward on the desk, bringing him a little closer to her. His forearms were pressed against the desk, his body leaning on them. She noticed how close their hands were. But after yesterday, she refused to left JJ get under her skin again. Or at least let him see how much he is bothering her. So, she stayed where she was, not moving back like he expected.

“You know my name.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement.

“Surprised?” He whispered, smirking a little when he noticed he wasn’t moving away. JJ risked it a little more and moved a bit closer.

“Took you long enough.” She replied with a shrug. JJ’s grin only widened.

“Oh yeah, counting down the days, princess?” He raised an eyebrow. He noticed her lips quirk a little, like she was fighting back a smile.

“You wish, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Shut up.”

“I think someone has a little crush, Kiara.” He grinned at her, only to witness her roll her eyes and push him away.

“In your dreams, Maybank.”

“Oh, you’re definitely in my dreams, Kiara.”

She rolled her eyes again but didn’t bother replying this time. She instead focused her gaze on the front of the class as Mr Marino entered the room, beginning the lesson. But if she had glanced over to the blond sitting on his right, she would’ve seen he was smiling throughout the whole lesson.

**********

“Thank you, dear!”

JJ nodded his head a little in acknowledgement and gave the older woman a small salute. “Always here to help, ma’am.” He said, handing her the small handbag that he had just rescued from the hands of some man who had tried to steal it from her.

“Aw, you’re really starting to win over the senior citizens.”

JJ rolled his eyes when he heard Pope’s voice through his earpiece. “Dude, I think she pinched my ass.”

“Lucky you, older woman, that’s hot.”

“JB, shut up.”

JJ snorted a little at the bickering, extending his arm out before he was swinging between the buildings with no trouble. He had been using any free time he had lately to be out in his suit, getting used to all the cool, extra bits that Pope had added. And he won’t lie, the boy really outdid himself. JJ felt like a total badass, being able to swing around and save people and feel like a real hero. He also enjoyed the change in attitude people had with him. He was Spider-Man, the city hero. He was appreciated. He was wanted. Not something JJ felt very often.

“Anything happening around town?” JJ asked, his eyes scanning the streets below, waiting to see any conflict. He couldn’t help but feel as though there was a part of him that was on edge. He couldn’t really explain it, it was like a bad shiver down his spine. It was a similar feeling he felt before that bank robbery fiasco a few weeks ago. It was a nasty wee feeling, one that had him on alert. Something was wrong, he didn’t know what. But he could sense it.

“Nah, everything seems to be fine. Maybe you should take a break, you’ve been swinging around for, like, three hours. You need to rest, dude.”

“What?” JJ muttered, so quiet that the boys on the other side barely heard him. That couldn’t be right, he can feel it. Something isn’t right, something bad is going to happen. “Guys, are you—”

He was cut off by a series of screams.

JJ’s body was reacting way before his brain did, like his hero side just leaped into action at the alert of any distress. He was swinging as fast as he could, his arms burning a little as he got closer and closer to the sound of those screams. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears, could feel his heart rate pick up. The adrenaline coursing through him, making him forget about the burning in his muscles from the three hours of patrolling he had done.

“That’s fucking weird, there is no police reports coming through.”

JJ ignored the voices coming through the earpiece, his whole body feeling rigid as he crouched on top of a building, looking at the carnage below. There, in the middle of the square stood what looked like a moving black cloud. Civilians were screaming and running away, but the black cloud just remained. His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was waiting for it to do something, to lash out. But it didn’t. He opened his mouth, ready to ask Pope if he was just imagining something when he heard the black cloud speak.

“Spider-Man, oh Spider-Man! Come out, come out wherever you are!” It spoke in a raspy, demonic voice. Whatever this way, it wasn’t human. JJ may have failed biology, but he knew that for sure.

“JJ, don’t. We are have no idea what this thing is. It could be a trap—”

“I got this, Pope.” JJ muttered, ignoring his friends’ pleas to think this through as he swung down, landing a couple of feet away from the black cloud. “You called?”

Suddenly, in the middle of the cloud, JJ swore he could see lips begin to materialise. He frowned beneath the mask but didn’t move away. His fist was clenched at the side, ready to react if the cloud tried anything.

“Ah, we finally meet, Spider-Man.” The cloud spoke again. The voice sent shivers down his spine. JJ pushed away that feeling of discomfort. Something about the cloud felt familiar, but he couldn’t tell what. It was like an annoying itch he couldn’t reach.

“Am I supposed to know who you are?” JJ questioned. “Look, dude, if you’re a fan, I appreciate it, but you don’t need to scare away a whole block of people to get my attention. You can just ask for an autograph like everyone else.”

“JJ stop provoking it!”

“You’ll know me soon enough.” The voice replied ambiguously. JJ furrowed his eyebrows together. Whatever this cloud was, it was being far too vague for JJ’s liking.

“PEOPLE OF NEW YORK, I SPEAK OUT TO YOU!”

JJ winced, clutching his ears. His body was on high-alert, his ears sensitive to pick out any small noise or rustle. He looked at the cloud and then at his surroundings, noticing how every screen—every phone, every billboard, every electrical compliance in this vicinity that he could see—was projecting the black cloud. It was broadcasting to the whole city. JJ couldn’t help but wonder where the fuck the hidden camera was. How was it doing this?

“YOU LABEL THIS KID AS YOUR HERO! YOU TRUST THIS CHILD WITH YOUR LIVES! YOU ARE FOOLISH!” The voice boomed, suddenly the black cloud began to form tentacles that were slithering from whatever was at the centre of it. “LET ME SHOW YOU THE TRUTH! LET ME SHOW YOU WHO YOU HAVE TO PROTECT YOU!”

JJ was a little too distracted by the concept of a cloud broadcasting to the city that he didn’t even notice one of the tentacles slithering towards him. It wrapped itself around his leg before swinging him into the nearest building.

JJ let out a small oomph as his body made contact with the brick wall. He could hear yelling in the distance, the sounds of people screaming. But nothing was overpowering the ringing in his ears as he slowly dragged himself to stand up.

“JJ, GET UP! JJ!”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” He muttered, blinking a few times before he turned back to look at the cloud. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and quickly rolled over to the side, the tentacle that threw him smashing into the wall not even a second later. That rush of adrenaline hitting JJ again as he quickly swung out of there, not even looking behind him until he knew he was a good distance away to assess the situation.

“IS THIS WHO YOU WANT PROTECTING YOU? A COWARDLY TEENAGER? C’MON, SPIDER-MAN! LET’S SEE WHAT YOU’VE GOT!”

JJ swore under his breath, trying to catch up with his thoughts as he watched more tentacles appear from the cloud. “Where the fuck are they coming from?” He muttered before swinging down to a lower building rooftop, crouching at the edge. He narrowed his eyes as he extended his hand out, shooting a web towards the centre of the cloud. There had to be something solid within this thing, something he can grip on to, something he can fight. But he was met with nothing. “Fuck.” He frowned before he began to crawl down the side of the building.

“You seem a bit jealous, mate!” JJ called out, watching as all eight of the tentacles seemed to snap their attention towards him. God, that was scary. “Don’t you have to tell me some wild origin story before you kill me?”

“MY AIM ISN’T TO KILL YOU, SPIDER-MAN. NOT YET!”

“Oh, that’s really reassuring, thank you so much.”

“I WANT NEW YORK TO SEE HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE. HOW USELESS THEIR SAVIOUR IS.”

“A bit of an odd wish, if you ask me.” He murmured to himself, quickly snapping his wrist before swinging around the black cloud. He watched as the tentacles reached out for him, just grazing him as he swung between the buildings.

“JJ, FIGHT BACK!”

“How the fuck do I fight something that isn’t solid? Get a vacuum? If you have one big enough, please do share. Call the ghostbusters or something!”

He heard more screams, some closer than he expected. He assumed everyone ran off, but when he turned his head to the side, he noticed a man standing there, frozen in fear. More importantly, he saw a car heading straight towards the scared man.

“Shit, shit, shit,” JJ yelled as he quickly yanked his web, spinning around and landing in front of the man, his hands extended out in front of him. Seconds later he felt the impact of the car, the weight and momentum it came crashing in at hit him strong enough to make him slide back a few feet. “Go, dude!” He yelled at the man, who had finally come to his senses and thanked JJ profusely before sprinting away. JJ groaned and threw the car away from him, huffing slightly.

“HOLY SHIT, JJ! THAT WAS A CAR!”

“Oh, no shit, Sherlock! I thought it was Barbie’s Dreamhouse.” Only JJ would be sarcastic while his life is in threat.

But it was that sarcasm that distracted him long enough for one of the tentacles wrap around his ankle, yanking him down from the small jump he had taken so the web he was currently gripping snapped with ease, preventing him a quick escape like he planned. He didn’t even have time to scream before he noticed the tentacle bringing him closer to the middle of the cloud, his eyes widening slightly.

He wiggled around in the tentacle’s grip, trying to find a way out but it was relentless. He wasn’t sure what was real or not, not sure if he imagined screaming in his head or if he actually did as he was dropped into the centre of the cloud.

Then, he felt nothing.

JJ was vaguely aware of his surroundings. He didn’t know if his eyes were open or not, but it was dark. He tried to move his arm, but it felt constricted, like he was swimming in something really thick. His brain was screaming at him to call out for Pope and John B, to move his hands and swing out of here, to do something. But another part of JJ felt completely content in this situation. He couldn’t explain it, but something washed over him, like a massive electric shock that made him aware of just how…familiar this seemed. It was similar to the feeling he had earlier.

He felt safe, understood.

And then that feeling was gone.

Suddenly, JJ found himself being thrown around in circles, something holding a tight grip on his ankle. But soon enough, that let go too and JJ was soon flying through the air, too out of it to even react fast enough to web onto something or soften his eventual crash.

JJ felt the air be completely knocked out of him, his body bouncing off the concrete a couple of times before he rolled over. It took him a few attempts to finally open his eyes, take in his surroundings, to see he was in some dingy alleyway. He turned his head to the side, briefly seeing a black blob in the distance. He could hear some muffled yelling.

“HEED THIS AS A WARNING, SPIDER-MAN. NEXT TIME WE MEET, IT WILL BE OUR LAST!”

JJ vaguely furrowed his eyebrows together before turning his head to stare at the blue sky above instead. When the ringing and the muffling was over, he could hear the screams of his friends coming through the earpiece.

“JJ! JJ, PLEASE FUCKING ANSWER, DUDE!”

“JJ, ARE YOU DEAD?!”

“WHY WOULD HE FUCKING ANSWER IF HE WAS DEAD!”

“SHUT UP, I’M FLUSTERED!”

JJ frowned a little, his whole throat felt dry and numb. There was also a metallic taste in his mouth that told him he must’ve bitten his tongue at some point. God, he hated the taste of blood. “It…It felt…”

“OH MY GOD, JJ!”

“IT FELT LIKE WHAT BUD? YOU GOOD?”

“It felt just like me.” He finally got out.

Then everything went black.

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #outer banks fanfiction #jiara fanfiction #spiderman au #marvel #tale of a slightly unstable teen hero #obx fic #my fic

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queenlokibeth · 5 years ago

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Shall we talk about the songs on louis’ “28 songs” playlist?

(Massive observation of all 28 songs ahead. Yes it took me 2 hours to make this. Skip to the end after the keep reading if you want the TL;DR)

You’re not the only one - Sam Fender

“The song is in fact about his best mate and himself “coming out on the other end of a bad place” and going out to party. He told Virgin Radio that “It’s a celebratory song about loving your mate, really”. “ - Genius lyrics

“ The fabricated smiles so wide, they're of hope Your composure is so brittle, and you hold yourself so well Inside, you cling to pieces of a broken carousel “ well yes i am crying

“We'll have this place on lockdown, it's here for you to taste“

Call me out - Sea Girls (Nautical theme, anyone?)

“And I've changed a lot since then, ask my friends The crying stopped, on top of that, my eyes forgot An old flame who got her hips on a bucket list And times missed every night since we first kissed”

“ And I've changed a lot since then, ask my friends My clothes, my frame, I've spent enough but feel the same”

“And I'll be waiting when you come and call”

“ I can burn that bridge when we get to it “

The Runner - Foals

“... The narrator is done lamenting his fate now and Part 2 sees him picking himself up, dusting himself off, and moving forward... [A] call to find a sense of purpose and perseverance despite the odds and despite the troubles we may find inside or outside ourselves.” - Genius lyrics

Nightmares - Easy Life

“...topics of insomnia, anxiety, and peer pressure.... The major chords acting to cover up the emotions professed in the lyrics, turning the song itself into a perfect metaphor...” - About the song, Genius lyrics.

“ It's all a bit of fun until somebody gets hurt I’ll take it with a pinch of salt, another bridge is burned” Burning bridges, again, you say?

“ It's all a bit of fun until somebody gets hurt I'll take it with a pinch of salt, another lesson learned But I don't need to know what's real or not no more I don't need to know what's real or not no more “

My honest face - Inhaler (pretty self explanatory title there)

“ [The vocalist] fears being met with nitpicking or criticism of the lesser parts of his performance. He thinks of himself as skilled, but not perfect. “ - About the song, Genius lyrics.

“And honey, I could play the Joker My made up smile broke your heart last night No, no, no, I didn't want to hurt ya But there's just a certain culture when you're young When you're young “

“ And honey, I could play the hater Acting like I hated her last night No, no no, I didn't want to hurt you “

“ I'll take you to an honest place Darling, I just can't find my honest face It's all over the place, it's all over the place “ So he wants to show his audience who he really is, but he can’t.

Your girlfriend - Blossoms (oh? oH?)

This one is interesting. There are many pronoun changes through the song. It’s hard to figure out at which point the girl goes from being “a friend who is a girl” to “girlfriend” and who is the speaker, who is the friend, and who is the girl.

“ I'm a boy And she's a girl With more charm than most movie stars So we met Through a friend We rent a place and she comes round to stay “ The first ‘we’ is the speaker and the girl, the second we is the speaker and his friend. This is when the song starts sounding like a dialogue to me: one person sings everything until before the last line, and the last line is a reply from the friend.

“ And now your girlfriend is ringing in my ears again “ There is a change here from “we met through a friend” (telling the story to someone else) vs this line, where the speaker is talking TO said friend, or perhaps following up on the dialogue theory, this is the friend replying to the speaker.

“ What am I supposed to do? I can tell, they get along so well” Is this the speaker talking about his friend and the girl, no longer talking TO the friend? I feel like this is the (mutual)friend wondering about his girl friend and the speaker.

“Is it possible, she likes me too?

I'm not sure if I should read between those lines “ This could be the speaker wondering.

“I should be moving out but can't 'cause we've just signed a lease “ (Again with the renting? Princess park? Hmm?)

“Thought maybe we'd go out for a movie And we can forget friends who'll be fuming Then I could walk you home in the evening And that's just being friendly “ This can be analysed in so many different ways depending on who’s speakig and to whom.

“And now your girlfriend is ringing in my ears again And when she smiles, I can't hide my jealousy Oh I can't take it, boy I hope she's faking it I heard he bought a ring today

I heard they got engaged today “ This one is interesting, because she might have ended up together with either the friend or the speaker, and whichever one she did not end up with is referring FIRST to their buddy and then moving on to address someone else, telling the story. Also, it almost sounds as if whoever is saying this is jealous OF THE GIRL, not of the guy who is with her.

Overall there is a lot to unpack with this song, mainly because of the change in pronouns and who the singer has as their audience for each line.

Empty hands - Tors

“Too late to call I've been away left you alone”

“I didn't notice you're feeling hopeless So blue-ou-ou again”

“And I'm nothing more than just a man And it breaks my heart When I break your heart”

“And I promised more than I could give And it's not the life you thought you'd live”

“Saturday nights up on the roof Sundays in bed Coffee and sleep Head for a walk Down by the sea with you-ou-ou” (Again nautical theme? Eroda anyone? Lou’s MV? Harry’s MV?)

“When I come back home I see the lights That you left on for me every night When I see you standing at the door Everything i want for evermore “ (Lights up? met you at your doorstep?)

Restrospect - Vistas

“See you find comfort in small things Which she considers the wrong things And you find comfort in hellos Not goodbyes, not goodbye And you try not to have issues With the hate you, love you, and miss yous That all come out when she kissed you Goodbye, goodbye” This is basically saying “hey i know about the stuff you like and don’t, she doesn’t! also you were feeling great until she ruined it!”

“Singing Sweet Caroline with diamonds in her eyes” (diamonds will make sense with the next song)

“Throw my arms to the skies”

“ Let me go and I'll forget Happiness in retrospect” Letting go has been a big theme y’all.

“See you find comfort in tall things Which he considers the wrong things And you find comfort in things he can't Recognise, recognise” OH HO HO HO WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT PRONOUN CHANGE? Now there’s a MAN who isn’t right for this person according to the singer.

“ And you want nothing but all this While he's stuck trying to solve it Nevertheless acquiesce till you feel those Butterflies, butterflies “

Lucy - Ten Tonnes (aHA! Lucy as in Lucy in the sky with diamonds, aka ANOTHER Beatles reference up in this bitch.)

“ Where you left your face “

“ Come away, from the window Haven't you learnt? That in dreams you can't get burned And I will meet you there Under purest skies It's where I'll be When they're finished with me” This gives me some SOTT vibes.

My Cheating Heart - Love Fame Tragedy (Pretty self explanatory song title, pretty self explanatory band name)

“Money, women, cars Leave my head among the stars 'Cause I want it all, yeah, yeah I want it all Puppet on a string is it such an evil thing”

“ So do I sink or do I float now?” The water scenes in the MVs????

Tears dry on their own - Amy Winehouse (ouch)

About the song: “She describes how a tarnished relationship has made her feel, and how she cries often. [Song] Samples Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell’s “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” Interesting sampling there, since ANMHE literally goes “ain’t no mountain high enough... to keep me from getting to you babe. Remember the day I set you free...” and just great song overall i cannot copy the whole thing here but YO.

“Once it was so right When we were at our height Waiting for you in the hotel at night I knew I hadn't met my match But every moment we could snatch I don't know why I got so attached It's my responsibility And you don't owe nothing to me But to walk away I have no capacity “ Well i am crying this isn’t it THIS AINT IT

“He walks away The sun goes down He takes the day but I'm grown And in your way, in this blue shade My tears dry on their own” Letting go, your partner leaving you for someone else... there’s a lot to unpack here.

“We could a never had it all We had to hit a wall So this is inevitable withdrawal Even if I stop wanting you A perspective pushes through I'll be some next man's other woman soon” So, Walls? Hardship in the relationship? Not being the formal girlfriend/partner but the side-chick?

“ I wish I could say no regrets And no emotional debts Cause as we kiss goodbye the sun sets So we are history”

2all - Catfish and the Bottlemen

“Life got led By people who Just wanna flood your head

... But it fits you at the time To fall for every line “ As stated by Genius: “...life is often “led” or heavily influenced by those who can rally people to follow their thoughts and ideas, e.g. friends, employers... The “fall for every line” is referring to the ones who let the people that try to influence their lives into their head and let them take over. “

Also, About: “ The song has a heavy emphasis on how you should hold the best people closest to your heart – the ones who are always there for you when you need them and the people you can count on all the time.”

“ Oh, they convinced me every time That I needed fooling So that I'd go and get it right Yeah, somewhere, they convinced me down the line When I needed fooling So that I'd go and get it right”

Reptilia - The Strokes

About the first lines: “ A shot at journalists; The Strokes, especially Julian, have never been open with the press and want their music to do their talking.”

“"You sound so sleepy, just take this, now leave me" From Genius: “Julian’s girl is talking to him, telling him that he looks “sleepy” but he probably is bored... his girl gets frustrated with him and eggs him on to ditch her.”

Honestly the whole analysis on Genius is pretty on point:

“He’s using sarcasm, the girl is trying as hard as she can to keep the relationship together, she’s thirsty as fuck and the night is barely over.... At this point Casablancas just wants to get out of the relationship. he sees this desperate need to leave, but she remains behind.... He’s waited long enough and it’s finally over between whom ever the girl is. She’s not having fun anymore and her happiness becomes sorrow, he just wants this night to be over....[About the title] Reptiles are cold blooded creatures (and the girl in the song just doesn’t care about the guy.)”

Harmony Hall - Vampire Weekend

This song sort of refers to hate groups, keep that in mind.

“ We took a vow in summertime Now we find ourselves in late December”

“ I thought that I was free from all that questionin'”

“ I don't wanna live like this, but I don't wanna die “

Runaway - KAWALA

“ Run away from the words unspoken Coast to coast going through the motions of Who'll be a better man, who'll do it better”

“ And I'll help you follow the line “

“ We're miles apart, closing up the distance I'm reaching out if you need assistance Who'll be a better man, who'll do it better”

“Today is the day I'll get on Awaiting the storm to move on I lie naked in wait to reform Let's try make it right this time now” I’m-- Bitch i’m---

“ Oh, it's all so emotional Oh, I hope that you're coping Oh, I won't let you lose it all “

Mr. Brightside - The Killers (Ah well we all know this one who are we even kidding)

Honestly this is where shit starts aligning.

About the song: “the song deals with issues of infidelity, paranoia, and jealousy”

“ Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine Gotta gotta be down because I want it all It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?” Iconic, we all know it, wild.

More About: “ The song is about the THOUGHT that one’s significant other is cheating”

And anyway, more paranoia and jealousy and fear of getting cheated on.

For now - DMA’S

“ All I need to know, she's dead to me” Well that is... harsh.

“ Quite like what I need to be, I'll send your bones to the sea “ You know the drill.

“ No, I won't be anymore, no, we won't be anymore “

“ Lately, we've lost control of everything you're biddin' for You keep me down, you set the score I've been impossible, only words are drowning out Take your head out of the clouds” There’s like 80 different meanings here.

Belter - Gerry Cinnamon

About the title: “ “belter” which is Scottish slang for an exceptional or outstanding example of something”

“ Diamonds oan' her finger and she always looks her best “ Diamonds again. Also allusion to rings ehem.

“ No happy endings, unless fairy-tales come true But she looks like a princess and there’s not much else to do I think I love her “ :(

“Is happiness an option, or has love just turned me blind?” Double :(

Dry your eyes - The Streets

The whole thing is about a breakup.

“In one single moment your whole life can turn around“

“ Please let me show you how we could only just be for us I can change and I can grow, or we could adjust The wicked thing about us is we always have trust”

“We can even have an open relationship if you must”

“Dry your eyes, mate I know it's hard to take but her mind has been made up There's plenty more fish in the sea Dry your eyes, mate I know you want to make her see how much this pain hurts But you've got to walk away now, it's over” It’s like he’s talking to his buddy who just went through a painful breakup telling him to n o t l e t i t b r e a k h i s h e a r t.

“ 'Cause I can't imagine my life without you and me There's things I can't imagine doing, things I can't imagine seeing “

“ 'Cause you said it'd be forever and that was your vow And you're gonna let our things simply crash and fall down? “ I didn’t include it before, but a few other songs also mention vows.

“ I know in the past I've found it hard to say Telling you things but not telling straight But the more I pull on your hand and say The more you pull away”

Confidence - Ocean Alley

(Random fact: I just noticed that this song is from an album called Chiarobscuro, and i didn’t include it but one of the previous songs also used that word)

“ Well, I should've said this, and I should've said that All that I know now”

Modern Love - Courteeners (quite the title)

“We got style and we got grace, we run wild and never dance alone In this town, she’s fucking famous But this town will never be her home” LA anyone?

“ But I don’t need this modern love This modern love Oh, it always lets me down”

“The popularity trap strikes again You don’t need these fools cause you’re incroyable“ Yeah not to be that larrie but the TPWK website has been telling people that they’re “incroyable” (incredible)

“ We found solace at The Star and Garter “ Oh, what is The Star and Garter? Oh you know, just “... a cult club located in their home town of, Manchester.” Anyways moving on

I am slowly losing my shit here:

“ A bare mattress, a lockless door Two Withington hearts on a pique assiette floor Give me back those awkward exchanges The fumbles In bathtubs When we were just strangers We talk about your graduation And the realisation that we might not be together forever and ever “ Withington is an area of south Manchester.

“ Wide-eyed and up all night This could be good” ANYWAYS...

Laurel Wreath - Bear’s Den

About the title: “refers to the Ancient Greek tradition of awarding Olympic victors laurel wreaths. The laurel wreath is also used in academia and as an architectural accent, for good luck.In this song the wreath is withering, and Andrew Davie uses this idea of athletic defeat as a symbol for his failures and relationship issues.”

“ Or the collapsing of a history “

“ But you found me in the morning, December in my eyes” December was mentioned in other songs, too.

“ Got your call, I needed it more than I could let on to you” WELL

Riot Van - Arctic Monkeys

About the song: “[The people in the song] As long as they had some good laughs, they don’t care if they are rich or have a job or are poor or anything. They just want to exist. “

“ Got a chase last night From men with truncheons dressed in hats We didn't do that much wrong Still ran away though, for the laugh Just for the laugh“

“ Well, they won't catch me and you”

“ Is there a certain age you're supposed to be? 'Cause nobody told me"

“ They get their address and their names took But they couldn't care less” Genius says: “ This is the police’s main deterrent for underage offenders, but the parents of these boys have obviously had so many calls from them that the boys don’t care anymore.”

Ahhh but the fun comes with painful consequences:

“Thrown in the riot van And all the coppers kicked him in And there was no way he could win Just had to take it on the chin” Also from Genius: “ Throughout society, whatever he does is never good or acceptable enough. He always gets pushed further down and down, to the point where he’s given up. He’s never going to win, there are too many people with much more power going against him. He just has to ‘take it on the chin’, ie. he has to accept that this is his life, there’s not point fighting against it because nothing will ever change.”

Please, please, please let me get what I want - The Smiths (it doesn’t get more literal that this tbh)

About the song: “ This song is about the desperation to fulfill personal desires... He has lived a life full of disappointment and maybe despair... For once he is having a good time, which is a wonderful surprise...” Also, sidenote, in live shows the title lyric apparently gets changed to “let me get who i want”.

The Less I Know the Better - Tame Impala (buddy let me tell you, the amount of gay fics i’ve seen from different fandoms using part of this song as a title...)

About the song: “...describes the pain of a man feeling left out in a love triangle”

“ She was holding hands with Trevor Not the greatest feeling ever” Y’all remember the Trevor concert incident with Harry? also the singer’s name is Kevin... who’s feuding with Trevor in the song... maybe that doesn’t mean shit.

“ Then I heard they slept together Oh, the less I know the better The less I know the better” Oh perhaps you broke up with your love and now he’s with someone else and it hurts?

“ Oh my love, can't you see that you're on my mind”

“ She said, "It's not now or never Wait ten years, we'll be together" I said, "Better late than never Just don't make me wait forever" Don't make me wait forever Don't make me wait forever” Oh shit bruuuuuh oh SHIT.

“I was doing fine without ya Till I saw your face, now I can't erase Giving in to all his bullshit Is this what you want? Is this who you are?” BULLSHIT? DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?

“Oh, sweet darling, where he wants you Said, "Come on Superman, say your stupid line" “

Tomorrow never knows - The Beatles (AHHH WE LOVE A BEATLES REFERENCE)

Song is from the Revolver album (gunshot anyone?)

“Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream It is not dying, it is not dying “

“Lay down all thoughts, surrender to the void It is shining, it is shining”

Eat, Sleep, Wake (Nothing But You) - Bombay Bicycle Club

“ Eat, sleep, wake Nothing but you” Habit? I don’t know if I could ever go without?

“ I can see where you are, dream where you are Will the song never end? Us on the bed half a meter apart”

“ I may not say it outwardly So all I have are memories Those looks at the start, the words in the dark But never a flame, we just wanted the spark”

ANYWAYS CONCLUSION TIME, or TL;DR: There is A LOT to unpack here. All of these songs vaguely follow the same theme. There’s a lot of breaking up going on, as well as moving on and third parties being involved. There’s stuff about being controlled, not being enough, wanting to be yourself, There’s references to Louis’ songs, to Harry’s songs, to 1D tracks, to Larry, to Elounor, you name it. This playlist is definitely giving us a taste of what Walls will deal with and boy is it A LOT.

#louis tomlinson #larry stylinson #larry #harry styles #mine

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randombtsprincessa · 6 years ago

Text

Accendo

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: JHope x Reader

Words: 2.2k

Genre: Fluff, Angst if you squint, Cracky??

Summary: The Awkward Moment when the Sun God falls for you.

Warning: Mentions of battle and injury.

The flick of a cool breeze brushed into your small room, bringing with it a streak of dawn light. Your lips twitched in slight discomfort but your eyelids stayed shut adamantly whiled the sunlight strengthened, twisting into a masculine shape.

The shape stayed fixed on its spot for a moment, head tilted at you before with an almighty breath, it let out a call which would rival the best cock in the world – yes, that was literal.

“Rise and shine beautiful, it’s a gorgeous day outside!”

Your eyes flew open, mouth dropping as you gaped at the intruder in your room, equal parts of horror and anger blossoming in your chest.

“Hoseok, what the ever loving fuck do you think you’re doing?” You hissed, hastily gripping your blankets and pulling them right up to your chin, narrowly missing punching your face.

“I just wanted to see my little petal before going off.” He sighed happily and to your dismay began to actually take form in your room.

Fiery red hair came first, followed by a chiseled face and a slim, athletic body as Jung Hoseok; Apollo himself in all his glory walked to your bed and clambered in beside you. It took you all of two seconds to react.

“Hoseok, get out of my bed, now!”

“Now, don’t be like that.” He grumbled, placing two hands under his head, smiling serenely. “I maybe a god, but I get tired too. Five more minutes,” he said.

You stared at the brazen god in your bed with annoyance written clearly across your face before you gave up with a huff. It was still too early to deal with Hoseok’s shamelessness and you had to be up in an hour anyway.

“Oh, I was wondering if you would go with me to Zeus’s recent bash.” He murmured.

“Nope,” you snapped immediately but the God very conveniently let out a snore.

Making sure you were wrapped safely away from the lascivious gaze he might train on you, you quickly went back asleep, later waking up to find him gone but with a feeling you were going to see your patron God very soon again.

Greek Gods…

Yes, that’s right. Your Percy Jackson stories had turned out to be right, maybe with a few intricacies. Ancient Gods still resided in modern times, in reincarnated bodies, very much alive and in the flesh.

You had been a botany student being pressured to take pre-med by your forceful parents when you’d stumbled – all piss drunk and about to collapse – on to the God of Sun…in a very similar state.

In your inebriated state you had deemed him to be a good sort of lay, all shiny hair and fitted leather and you had invited him to join you but soon enough you were spilling your tragedy to the man, who listened lying eagle spead on your floor, half closed mouth mumbling before he gave you a blinding smile and a preposterous story with an even more so solution.

He was a Greek God – ok so he looked hot enough to be one – and he could take you away and dump you in a camp where ancient medical knowledge was provided under his tutelage and patronage, because he was also the patron god of healers. That did not seem very strange to you, until of course he mentioned that the camp was in Greece.

“Dude, I’m all for guys who can make me laugh in bed but can we wait till we’re naked?” you asked and he’d smirked before snapping his fingers.

In a blaze of flames and folded light, you and he were standing in the middle of a valley, full of beautiful flowers and fruit laden trees. Over the fences you could see small huts, hundreds of them, sprawling over miles and you gaped, your entire buzz gone as you spun to the smug God.

“All of this could be yours. I’ll even see you get one of the best huts and be your personal patron. Just say yes, gorgeous.”

If he thought you were going to be awed, the next minute he was frowning when you smacked his chest – hard.

“What the hell, you can’t just drag me over to Greece! Take me back, now!” you’d screeched and it had taken him a few second to snap his fingers correctly to get you back in your living room, this time alone.

Neither did you get laid nor did you have a good night’s sleep.

Your anger hadn’t lasted two days when another call from your parents, questioning your life had made you snap at them that you were taking a med course in Greece. That had silenced them and even though you knew it was a compromise; at least you’d still be near plants.

Conjuring up Hoseok again had been another night of drinking and taking home a very, very annoying and touchy God.

Of course, having a god as a personal patron came with more jobs than one; you basically had gained a small eager Labrador who wanted to parade you everywhere. You soon learned that Hoseok hadn’t personally provided patronage to anyone since eons and while you were flattered, it didn’t escape your notice that it was due to your incomplete conquest of sleeping with him and that he was probably only doing it to get into your pants.

Not to mention, this made many of the girls at the camp hate your very guts. The only person who was willing to hang out with you was a tall, spectacled boy named Taehyung. He always made it a point to let you know he was your only friend and to be grateful for his strength at keeping your haters at bay.

Hoseok was a generous teacher though. He gave you a tour of Olympus and all the special ingredients only found there, introduced you to his family even.

Zeus or his reincarnation Jin was as beautiful as legend told, the throne next to him occupied by a regal woman named Jisoo who could only be his wife Hera.

Athena you met in a college protest, a tall man named Namjoon who yelled about government conspiracies so loudly that even Hoseok, probably the loudest God alive winced.

Next was meeting his twin, Artemis, or Yoongi in this generation, his skin pale as moonlight and hair woven silver as he took one look at you in Hoseok’s golden chariot, hanging on for dear life and face palming himself; probably already knowing his brother’s playboy ways.

Meeting Ares and Aphrodite, or Jungkook and Jimin had nearly gotten you killed.

Hoseok had sent you to retrieve a shield and while you had rolled your eyes as being made to clean up after a man, the sword at your throat from the red eyed man was enough to make you cry, before Hoseok had appeared laughing and cajoling the man.

It was Jimin who had saved you, eyeing you and Hoseok before smiling, a little giddily and murmuring to Jungkook who had smirked but not before glaring a warning at Hoseok. You had refused to accompany Hoseok on any more excursions, making him pout for a good time.

Safe to say, it was only Yoongi who you liked in his entire barrage.

“Wow, you look like shit.” Taehyung muttered first thing as you joined him in pruning the rose bushes.

“Yes, thank you,” you grumbled before he slinked closer.

“God happened to visit you that we won’t name?” he whispered, making you groan.

“He woke me up at five…can you imagine and then passed out in my bed!” You hissed back, before going off on a rant about how annoyed his presence left you.

“Um, Y/N,” Taehyung suddenly gulped and you whirled around, your pruning shears up in case someone thought you needed another bath in dung manure.

Only, it was just sparkled and shimmers as Hoseok materialized in the middle of the rose bushes.

The sharp gasp of people around him prompted him to raise his hands in a calming manner but the shit eating grin on his face told you he enjoyed it as he looked at the head of your batch.

“How are we my beautiful healers? All well, I hope,” he said.

The head woman nodded desperately in the face of his allure and Hoseok smiled widely.

“Fantastic, I have come to ask my dear Y/N to accompany me to Zeus’s bash. Isn’t that exciting?” he said.

There was a heavy pause in which your grip on the shears tightened, Taehyung took a visible step back and the girls all turned to give you unsavory looks.

“Yes, it is indeed.” The Head said and the God turned to you.

“Well, you’ll go, won’t you?” he pressed.

“I…”

You wanted to throw something at his perfect face for this new low reached but with the people eyeing your every move it was impossible so you forced a tight grin.

“Of course, my lord,”

“You’re absolutely horrible.” You said first thing as Hoseok started to open his mouth, his hands already pointing toward some glowing flowers. He wanted to show you a new batch he needed picked over the valley and while it was a good fifteen minute hike, he’d snapped his fingers and voila.

“I’m sorry?” he turned to you in confusion.

“You think you’re so cool and then pull that dick move.” You hissed.

“You mean asking you at the pruning chores? How is that low? I’d think you’d be more than glad to leave pruning and a God asking you to Zeus’s party is considered an honor.” He frowned.

“It was considered an honor. It’s the twenty first century, Hoseok! Besides if I wanted a God, I’d go for one that acted like it.” You snapped.

Darkness brewed behind Hoseok’s eyes and for a second you reminded yourself that he was, after all, a god, capable of burning you where you stood.

“I don’t act like a god?” he asked.

“Admit it, you’re being nice to me only because you want to sleep with me.”

“That’s not true! I’m being nice because I actually like you!”

“Sure, and look where that got Cassandra.” You replied snidely.

Hoseok’s face paled.

“That was ages ago. I have changed.”

You snorted.

“Make me believe that.”

Hoseok stood still for a few second before he was disappearing, turning holographic and then melting away completely, leaving you alone with a bunch of glowing plants.

Your sleep was again disturbed by a God.

You groaned in annoyance wondering why Hoseok was back. He had disappeared for a whole of two days. The sun still rose but he never showed up in your room after that fight you had.

So when you opened your eyes, you were fully expecting the blaze of heat, not a sliver of moonlight in which stood Hoseok’s twin, Yoongi.

“Y/N, you need to come with me. Now,” he said, his eyes blown wide open.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, not missing the urgency in the god’s voice as you shuffled to sit up.

“It’s…it’s that wretched brother of mine. Took on a bunch of Pythos, but almost lost; He needs a Healer.” Yoongi gulped and that was when you saw the state in which he was in.

White robes muddied, pale hair tousled, he looked like he’d just survived a battle.

“I’ll go fetch the Head.”

“No, we don’t have time and he asked for you.” Yoongi snapped before he was waving a hand, twisting light into a bag of ingredients.

“All you’ll need is in here. Come with me.” He said.

Unlike Hoseok, Yoongi didn’t transport you anywhere, instead walking with you at a brisk pace till the lake, where you gasped when you spotted Hoseok’s chariot.

Apollo’s golden sigil was splashed with mud and what looked like slime, the wheels splintered and the flag post had snapped. The glow it usually exuded was dimmed.

“He’s inside.”

You didn’t wait for any other words from the God of the Hunt, quickly moving to scramble into the huge chariot and then you saw him.

His red hair was darkened, cuts on his hands and face glowing golden with clotted Ichor, the golden blood of Gods and you placed a hand at his forehead to feel him burning up more than usual. He had a fever.

“Hoseok…Apollo, hey, can you hear me?” you asked, slapping his cheeks lightly as you fetched some bandages and clear lake water to clean his wounds.

Hoseok’s eyes opened, glowing orange before setting back to brown.

“Y/N…you came,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I can hardly not come when my patron calls.” You mumbled, placing a cool cloth against his head.

“You…you said I wasn’t a God, so I…”

“Tried to be one? By taking on some goons you know you’re going to need help with?” You asked, hurriedly running ointment on his cuts.

“It was stupid but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Don’t smite me, but you are stupid.” You sighed before settling back.

“You’re already healing, I think you’ll be fine.” You said.

“Yes,” Hoseok sighed, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

You got to your feet before looking down at your God.

“Hoseok,” you called, making him look up. “Don’t be late when you pick me up.” You said before climbing down the steps and walking away.

The god blinked in surprise before smiling in victory.

#jhope fanfic #jhope smut #jhope angst #jhope fluff #jhope #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts #accendo

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interestingshitonmadikomgezrapou · 5 years ago

Text

"On The Pleasure Of Hating" (c.1826)

THERE is a spider crawling along the matted floor of the room where I sit (not the one which has been so well allegorised in the admirable Lines to a Spider, but another of the same edifying breed); he runs with heedless, hurried haste, he hobbles awkwardly towards me, he stops -- he sees the giant shadow before him, and, at a loss whether to retreat or proceed, meditates his huge foe -- but as I do not start up and seize upon the straggling caitiff, as he would upon a hapless fly within his toils, he takes heart, and ventures on with mingled cunning, impudence and fear. As he passes me, I lift up the matting to assist his escape, am glad to get rid of the unwelcome intruder, and shudder at the recollection after he is gone. A child, a woman, a clown, or a moralist a century ago, would have crushed the little reptile to death-my philosophy has got beyond that -- I bear the creature no ill-will, but still I hate the very sight of it. The spirit of malevolence survives the practical exertion of it. We learn to curb our will and keep our overt actions within the bounds of humanity, long before we can subdue our sentiments and imaginations to the same mild tone. We give up the external demonstration, the brute violence, but cannot part with the essence or principle of hostility. We do not tread upon the poor little animal in question (that seems barbarous and pitiful!) but we regard it with a sort of mystic horror and superstitious loathing. It will ask another hundred years of fine writing and hard thinking to cure us of the prejudice and make us feel towards this ill-omened tribe with something of "the milk of human kindness," instead of their own shyness and venom.

Nature seems (the more we look into it) made up of antipathies: without something to hate, we should lose the very spring of thought and action. Life would turn to a stagnant pool, were it not ruffled by the jarring interests, the unruly passions, of men. The white streak in our own fortunes is brightened (or just rendered visible) by making all around it as dark as possible; so the rainbow paints its form upon the cloud. Is it pride? Is it envy? Is it the force of contrast? Is it weakness or malice? But so it is, that there is a secret affinity, a hankering after, evil in the human mind, and that it takes a perverse, but a fortunate delight in mischief, since it is a never-failing source of satisfaction. Pure good soon grows insipid, wants variety and spirit. Pain is a bittersweet, wants variety and spirit. Love turns, with a little indulgence, to indifference or disgust: hatred alone is immortal. Do we not see this principle at work everywhere? Animals torment and worry one another without mercy: children kill flies for sport: every one reads the accidents and offences in a newspaper as the cream of the jest: a whole town runs to be present at a fire, and the spectator by no means exults to see it extinguished. It is better to have it so, but it diminishes the interest; and our feelings take part with our passions rather than with our understandings. Men assemble in crowds, with eager enthusiasm, to witness a tragedy: but if there were an execution going forward in the next street, as Mr. Burke observes, the theater would be left empty. A strange cur in a village, an idiot, a crazy woman, are set upon and baited by the whole community. Public nuisances are in the nature of public benefits. How long did the Pope, the Bourbons, and the Inquisition keep the people of England in breath, and supply them with nicknames to vent their spleen upon! Had they done us any harm of late? No: but we have always a quantity of superfluous bile upon the stomach, and we wanted an object to let it out upon. How loth were we to give up our pious belief in ghosts and witches, because we liked to persecute the one, and frighten ourselves to death with the other! It is not the quality so much as the quantity of excitement that we are anxious about: we cannot bear a state of indifference and ennui: the mind seems to abhor a vacuum as much as ever nature was supposed to do. Even when the spirit of the age (that is, the progress of intellectual refinement, warring with our natural infirmities) no longer allows us to carry our vindictive and head strong humours into effect, we try to revive them in description, and keep up the old bugbears, the phantoms of our terror and our hate, in imagination. We burn Guy Fawx in effigy, and the hooting and buffeting and maltreating that poor tattered figure of rags and straw makes a festival in every village in England once a year. Protestants and Papists do not now burn one another at the stake: but we subscribe to new editions of Fox's Book of Martyrs; and the secret of the success of the Scotch Novels is much the same-they carry us back to the feuds, the heart-burnings, the havoc, the dismay, the wrongs, and the revenge of a barbarous age and people-to the rooted prejudices and deadly animosities of sects and parties in politics and religion, and of contending chiefs and clans in war and intrigue. We feel the full force of the spirit of hatred with all of them in turn. As we read, we throw aside the trammels of civilization, the flimsy veil of humanity. "Off, you lendings!" The wild beast resumes its sway within us, we feel like hunting animals, and as the hound starts in his sleep and rushes on the chase in fancy the heart rouses itself in its native lair, and utters a wild cry of joy, at being restored once more to freedom and lawless unrestrained impulses. Every one has his full swing, or goes to the Devil his own way. Here are no Jeremy Bentham Panopticons, none of Mr. Owen's impassable Parallelograms1 (Rob Roy would have spurred and poured a thousand curses on them), no long calculations of self-interest -- the will takes its instant way to its object, as the mountain-torrent flings itself over the precipice: the greatest possible good of each individual consists in doing all the mischief he can to his neighbour: that is charming, and finds a sure and sympathetic chord in every breast! So Mr. Irving2, the celebrated preacher, has rekindled the old, original, almost exploded hell-fire in the aisles of the Caledonian Chapel, as they introduce the real water of the New River at Sadler's Wells, to the delight and astonishment of his fair audience. 'Tis pretty, though a plague, to sit and peep into the pit of Tophet, to play at snap-dragon with flames and brimstone (it gives a smart electrical shock, a lively filip to delicate constitutions), and to see Mr. Irving, like a huge Titan, looking as grim and swarthy as if he had to forge tortures for all the damned! What a strange being man is! Not content with doing all he can to vex and hurt his fellows here, "upon this bank and shoal of time," where one would think there were heartaches, pain, disappointment, anguish, tears, sighs, and groans enough, the bigoted maniac takes him to the top of the high peak of school divinity to hurl him down the yawning gulf of penal fire; his speculative malice asks eternity to wreak its infinite spite in, and calls on the Almighty to execute its relentless doom! The cannibals burn their enemies and eat them in good-fellowship with one another: meed Christian divines cast those who differ from them but a hair's-breadth, body and soul into hellfire for the glory of God and the good of His creatures! It is well that the power of such persons is not co-ordinate with their wills: indeed it is from the sense of their weakness and inability to control the opinions of others, that they thus "outdo termagant," and endeavour to frighten them into conformity by big words and monstrous denunciations.

The pleasure of hating, like a poisonous mineral, eats into the heart of religion, and turns it to rankling spleen and bigotry; it makes patriotism an excuse for carrying fire, pestilence, and famine into other lands: it leaves to virtue nothing but the spirit of censoriousness, and a narrow, jealous, inquisitorial watchfulness over the actions and motives of others. What have the different sects, creeds, doctrines in religion been but so many pretexts set up for men to wrangle, to quarrel, to tear one another in pieces about, like a target as a mark to shoot at? Does any one suppose that the love of country in an Englishman implies any friendly feeling or disposition to serve another bearing the same name? No, it means only hatred to the French or the inhabitants of any other country that we happen to be at war with for the time. Does the love of virtue denote any wish to discover or amend our own faults? No, but it atones for an obstinate adherence to our own vices by the most virulent intolerance to human frailties. This principle is of a most universal application. It extends to good as well as evil: if it makes us hate folly, it makes us no less dissatisfied with distinguished merit. If it inclines us to resent the wrongs of others, it impels us to be as impatient of their prosperity. We revenge injuries: we repay benefits with ingratitude. Even our strongest partialities and likings soon take this turn. "That which was luscious as locusts, anon becomes bitter as coloquintida;" and love and friendship melt in their own fires. We hate old friends: we hate old books: we hate old opinions; and at last we come to hate ourselves.

I have observed that few of those whom I have formerly known most intimate, continue on the same friendly footing, or combine the steadiness with the warmth of attachment. I have been acquainted with two or three knots of inseparable companions, who saw each other "six days in the week;" that have been broken up and dispersed. I have quarrelled with almost all my old friends' (they might say this is owing to my bad temper, but) they have also quarrelled with one another. What is become of "that set of whist-players," celebrated by Elia in his notable Epistle to Robert Southey, Esq.3 (and now I think of it - that I myself have celebrated in this very volume4) "that for so many years called Admiral Burney friend?" They are scattered, like last year's snow. Some of them are dead, or gone to live at a distance, or pass one another in the street like strangers, or if they stop to speak, do it as coolly and try to cut one another as soon as possible. Some of us have grown rich, others poor. Some have got places under Government, others a niche in the Quarterly Review. Some of us have dearly earned a name in the world; whilst others remain in their original privacy. We despise the one, and envy and are glad to mortify the other. Times are changed; we cannot revive our old feelings; and we avoid the sight, and are uneasy in the presence of, those who remind us of our infirmity, and put us upon an effort at seeming cordiality which embarrasses ourselves, and does not impose upon our quondam associates. Old friendships are like meats served up repeatedly, cold, comfortless, and distasteful. The stomach turns against them. Either constant intercourse and familiarity breed weariness and contempt; if we meet again after an interval of absence, we appear no longer the same. One is too wise, another too foolish, for us; and we wonder we did not find this out before. We are disconcerted and kept in a state of continual alarm by the wit of one, or tired to death of the dullness of another. The good things of the first (besides leaving strings behind them) by repetition grow stale, and lose their startling effect; and the insipidity of the last becomes intolerable. The most amusing or instructive companion is best like a favorite volume, that we wish after a time to lay upon the shelf; but as our friends are not willing to be laid there, this produces a misunderstanding and ill-blood between us. Or if the zeal and integrity of friendship is not abated, or its career interrupted by any obstacle arising out of its own nature, we look out for other subjects of complaint and sources of dissatisfaction. We begin to criticize each other's dress, looks, general character. "Such a one is a pleasant fellow, but it is a pity he sits so late!" Another fails to keep his appointments, and that is a sore that never heals. We get acquainted with some fashionable young men or with a mistress, and wish to introduce our friend; but be is awkward and a sloven, the interview does not answer, and this throws cold water on our intercourse. Or he makes himself obnoxious to opinion; and we shrink from our own convictions on the subject as an excuse for not defending him. All or any of these causes mount up in time to a ground of coolness or irritation; and at last they break out into open violence as the only amends we can make ourselves for suppressing them so long, or the readiest means of banishing recollections of former kindness so little compatible with our present feelings. We may try to tamper with the wounds or patch up the carcase of departed friendship; but the one will hardly bear the handling, and the other is not worth the trouble of embalming! The only way to be reconciled to old friends is to part with them for good: at a distance we may chance to be thrown back ( in a waking dream) upon old times and old feelings: or at any rate we should not think of renewing our intimacy, till we have fairly spit our spite or said, thought, and felt all the ill we can of each other. Or if we can pick a quarrel with some one else, and make him the scape-goat, this is an excellent contrivance to heal a broken bone. I think I must be friends with Lamb again, since he has written that magnanimous Letter to Southey, and told him a piece of his mind! I don't know what it is that attaches me to H---so much, except that he and I, whenever we meet, sit in judgment on another set of old friends, and "carve them as a dish fit for the Gods". There with L [Leigh Hunt], John Scott, Mrs. [Montagu], whose dark raven locks make a picturesque background to our discourse, B---, who is grown fat, and is, they say, married, R[ickman]; these had all separated long ago, and their foibles are the common link that holds us together.5 We do not affect to condole or whine over their follies; we enjoy, we laugh at them, till we are ready to burst our sides, "sans intermissions for hours by the dial." We serve up a course of anecdotes, traits, master-strokes of character, and cut and hack at them till we are weary. Perhaps some of them are even with us. For my own part, as I once said, I like a friend the better for having faults that one can talk about. "Then," said Mrs. [Montagu], " you will cease to be a philanthropist!" Those in question were some of the choice-spirits of the age, not "fellows of no mark or likelihood'; and we so far did them justice: but it is well they did not hear what we sometimes said of them. I care little what any one says of me, particularly behind my back, and in the way of critical and analytical discussion: it is looks of dislike and scorn that I answer with the worst venom of my pen. The expression of the face wounds me more than the expressions of the tongue. If I have in one instance mistaken this expression, or resorted to this remedy where I ought not, I am sorry for it. But the face was too fine over which it mantled, and I am too old to have misunderstood it!...I sometimes go up to -----'s; and as often as I do, resolve never to go again. I do not find the old homely welcome. The ghost of friendship meets me at the door, and sits with me all dinner-time. They have got a set of fine notions and new acquaintances. Allusions to past occurrences are thought trivial, nor is it always safe to touch upon more general subjects. M. does not begin as he formerly did every five minutes, "Fawcett used to say," &c. That topic is something worn. The girls are grown up, and have a thousand accomplishments. I perceive there is a jealousy on both sides. They think I give myself airs, and I fancy the same of them. Every time I am asked, "If I do not think Mr. Washington Irving a very fine writer?" I shall not go again till I receive an invitation for Christmas Day in company with Mr. Liston. The only intimacy I never found to flinch or fade was a purely intellectual one. There was none of the cant of candour in it, none of the whine of mawkish sensibility. Our mutual acquaintance were considered merely as subjects of conversation and knowledge, not all of affection. We regarded them no more in our experiments than "mice in an air-pump:" or like malefactors, they were regularly cut down and given over to the dissecting-knife. We spared neither friend nor foe. We sacrificed human infirmities at the shrine of truth. The skeletons of character might be seen, after the juice was extracted, dangling in the air like flies in cobwebs; or they were kept for future inspection in some refined acid. The demonstration was as beautiful as it was new. There is no surfeiting on gall: nothing keeps so well as a decoction of spleen. We grow tired of every thing but turning others into ridicule, and congratulating ourselves on their defects.

We take a dislike to our favourite books, after a time, for the same reason. We cannot read the same works for ever. Our honey-moon, even though we wed the Muse, must come to an end; and is followed by indifference, if not by disgust. There are some works, those indeed that produce the most striking effect at first by novelty and boldness of outline, that will not bear reading twice: others of a less extravagant character, and that excite and repay attention by a greater nicety of details, have hardly interest enough to keep alive our continued enthusiasm. The popularity of the most successful writers operates to wean us from them, by the cant and fuss that is made about them, by hearing their names everlastingly repeated, and by the number of ignorant and indiscriminate admirers they draw after them: - we as little like to have to drag others from their unmerited obscurity, lest we should be exposed to the charge of affectation and singularity of taste. There is nothing to be said respecting an author that all the world have made up their minds about: it is a thankless as well as hopeless task to recommend one that nobody has ever heard of. To cry up Shakespear as the god of our idolatry, seems like a vulgar national prejudice: to take down a volume of Chaucer, or Spenser, or Beaumont and Fletcher, or Ford, or Marlowe, has very much the look of pedantry and egotism. I confess it makes me hate the very name of Fame and Genius, when works like these are "gone into the wastes of time," while each successive generation of fools is busily employed in reading the trash of the day, and women of fashion gravely join with their waiting-maids in discussing the preference between the Paradise Lost and Mr. Moore's Loves of the Angels. I was pleased the other day on going into a shop to ask, "If they had any of the Scotch Novels?" to be told - "That they had just sent out the last, Sir Andrew Wylie!" - Mr. Galt will also be pleased with this answer! The reputation of some books is raw and unaired: that of others is worm-eaten and mouldy. Why fix our affections on that which we cannot bring ourselves to have faith in, or which others have long ceased to trouble themselves about? I am half afraid to look into Tom Jones, lest it should not answer my expectations at this time of day; and if it did not, I would certainly be disposed to fling it into the fire, and never look into another novel while I lived. But surely, it may be said, there are some works that, like nature, can never grow old; and that must always touch the imagination and passions alike! Or there are passages that seem as if we might brood over them all our lives, and not exhaust the sentiments of love and admiration they excite: they become favourites, and we are fond of them to a sort of dotage. Here is one:

---"Sitting in my window

Printing my thoughts in lawn, I saw a god,

I thought (but it was you), enter our gates;

My blood flew out and back again, as fast

As I had puffed it forth and sucked it in

Like breath; then was I called away in haste

To entertain you: never was a man

Thrust from a sheepcote to a sceptre, raised

So high in thoughts as I; you left a kiss

Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep

From you for ever. I did hear you talk

Far above singing!"A passage like this, indeed, leaves a taste on the palate like nectar, and we seem in reading it to sit with the Gods at their golden tables: but if we repeat it often in ordinary moods, it loses its flavour, becomes vapid, "the wine of poetry is drank, and but the lees remain." Or, on the other hand, if we call in the air of extraordinary circumstances to set it off to advantage, as the reciting it to a friend, or after having our feelings excited by a long walk in some romantic situation, or while we---"play with Amaryllis in the shade,

Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair"---we afterwards miss the accompanying circumstances, and instead of transferring the recollection of them to the favourable side, regret what we have lost, and strive in vain to bring back "the irrevocable hour" - wondering in some instances how we survive it, and at the melancholy blank that is left behind! The pleasure rises to its height in some moment of calm solitude or intoxicating sympathy, declines ever after, and from the comparison and conscious falling-off, leaves rather a sense of satiety and irksomeness behind it... "Is it the same in pictures?" I confess it is, with all but those from Titian's hand. I don't know why, but an air breathes from his landscapes, pure, refreshing, as if it came from other years; there is a look in his faces that never passes away. I saw one the other day. Amidst the heartless desolation and glittering finery of Fonthill, there is a portfolio of the Dresden Gallery. It opens, and a young female head looks from it; a child, yet woman grown; with an air of rustic innocence and the graces of a princess, her eyes like those of doves, the lips about to open, a smile of pleasure dimpling the whole face, the jewels sparkling in her crisped hair, her youthful shape compressed in a rich antique dress, as the bursting leaves contain the April buds! Why do I not call up this image of gentle sweetness, and place it as a perpetual barrier between mischance and me? - It is because pleasure asks a greater effort of the mind to support it than pain; and we turn after a little idle dalliance from what we love to what we hate!

As to my old opinions, I am heartily sick of them. I have reason, for they have deceived me sadly. I was taught to think, and I was willing to believe, that genius was not a bawd, that virtue was not a mask, that liberty was not a name, that love had its seat in the human heart. Now I would care little if these words were struck out of the dictionary, or if I had never heard them. They are become to my ears a mockery and a dream. Instead of patriots and friends of freedom, I see nothing but the tyrant and the slave, the people linked with kings to rivet on the chains of despotism and superstition. I see folly join with knavery, and together make up public spirit and public opinions. I see the insolent Tory, the blind Reformer, the coward Whig! If mankind had wished for what is right, they might have had it long ago. The theory is plain enough; but they are prone to mischief, "to every good work reprobate." I have seen all that had been done by the mighty yearnings of the spirit and intellect of men, "of whom the world was not worthy," and that promised a proud opening to truth and good through the vista of future years, undone by one man, with just glimmering of understanding enough to feel that he was a king, but not to comprehend how he could be king of a free people! I have seen this triumph celebrated by poets, the friends of my youth and the friends of men, but who were carried away by the infuriate tide that, setting in from a throne, bore down every distinction of right reason before it; and I have seen all those who did not join in applauding this insult and outrage on humanity proscribed, hunted down (they and their friends made a byword of), so that it has become an understood thing that no one can live by his talents or knowledge who is not ready to prostitute those talents and that knowledge to betray his species, and prey upon his fellow- man. "This was some time a mystery: but the time gives evidence of it." The echoes of liberty had awakened once more in Spain, and the mornings of human hope dawned again: but that dawn has been overcast by the foul breath of bigotry, and those reviving sounds stifled by fresh cries from the time-rent towers of the Inquisition - man yielding (as it is fit he should) first to brute force, but more to the innate perversity and dastard spirit of his own nature which leaves no room for farther hope or disappointment. And England, that arch-reformer, that heroic deliverer, that mouther about liberty, and tool of power, stands gaping by, not feeling the blight and mildew coming over it, nor its very bones crack and turn to a paste under the grasp and circling folds of this new monster, Legitimacy! In private life do we not see hypocrisy, servility, selfishness, folly, and impudence succeed, while modesty shrinks from the encounter, and merit is trodden under foot? How often is "the rose plucked from the forehead of a virtuous love to plant a blister there!" What chance is there of the success of real passion? What certainty of its continuance? Seeing all this as I do, and unravelling the web of human life into its various threads of meanness, spite, cowardice, want of feeling, and want of understanding, of indifference towards others, and ignorance of ourselves, - seeing custom prevail over all excellence, itself giving way to infamy - mistaken as I have been in my public and private hopes, calculating others from myself, and calculating wrong; always disappointed where I placed most reliance; the dupe of friendship, and the fool of love; - have I not reason to hate and to despise myself? Indeed I do; and chiefly for not having hated and despised the world enough.

_______________________________

FOOTNOTES:

[1]

Panopticons was the name given by

Bentham

to a proposed form of prison of circular shape having cells built round and fully exposed towards a central well, from which the jail keepers could at all times observe the prisoners.

Robert Owen

was the first in a line of 19th century socialists who in fact carried out experiments at his cotton mills at New Lanark mill where he erected a block of buildings in the form of a parallelogram to house the workers.

[2] Hazlitt refers to Edward Irving (1792-34), the Scottish divine and mystic who took over the Caledonian Church, Hatton Garden, London, and where he enjoyed a phenomenal success as a preacher.

[3] Lamb's Epistle to Robert Southey, Esq., was published in the London Magazine, Oct. 1823. See my page on Robert Southey.

[4] "On the Conversations of Authors" by Hazlitt and which first appeared in Sep. of 1820, and which was in his book of essays, The Plain Speaker (1826).

[5] Hazlitt seems to be referring to most of those who gathered at Lamb's house, c. 1808, more Lamb's friends than Hazlitt's: Captain Burney, Martin, his son; Wm. Ayrton, musician; James White, treasurer at Christ's Hospital; John Rickman, clerk to the speaker; Edward "Ned" Phillips, another clerk and Rickman's successor; Geo. Dyer; Joseph Hume; et al. One could have seen them at the residence of Charles and Mary Lamb where they met every Wednesday night; for discussion, cribbage and whist.

#on the pleasure of hating

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superloves4 · 6 years ago

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Starlight Comics - Dick Grayson x Reader

Synopsis: Dick and Starlight get closer, while Bruce decides what to do with her.

Warning: just vague references, mostly just fluff really.

Issue 3 - Wayne

Dick knocked excited on Starlight's door, after everything that had happened the day before; he just wanted to be by her side more. She looked so helpless after accepting Alfred's help and even after getting out of the suit, Bruce still seemed to scare her.

He worried again as she didn't answer.

Deciding it was better to just get inside, he opened the door only to discover she wasn't there, the empty and still neat bed suggesting she hadn't slept in the room at all.

She run away! He thought running towards the open window, hoping that if she had decided to go away, she had not gone far. So he could bring her back.

Before he could scream for her, however, he suddenly found her face right in front of him.

She was upside down, flying in outside in his borrowed clothes and looking perplexed at him. He sighed in relief and she seemed even more confused.

"You already saw me flying," she said matter-of-factly and he laughed.

"So flying is what you do? No wind manipulation?" she shrugged, still in the same position.

"I guess, that's what they would call it." he smiled, she wasn't quite open about what had been done to her, but he could figure out and so would try to reassure her.

"It's pretty incredible." she turned in mid-air, looking at him in a standing position now, she still had that questioning look but he didn't need to wait long to find out why.

"You look different." that made him laugh, she was talking about his clothes, out of the Robin costume, he probably looked weird to her.

"Had to change, wouldn't want to let people know my secret." he sat on the window, getting closer to her as she looked at him, eyes glinting.

"Secret?" she asked interested in him.

"That I'm a hero." he grinned at her, Bruce would talk about not revealing it to anyone, but he felt she could be trusted and that she belonged there with them.

"That means saving people." it only took a nod from his part and she smiled, it was her second smile since arriving and he liked that he had been the one to cause it.

"Why do you do it? Do you gain something?" she crossed her legs, still in the air, now asking as excited as he was.

"No but because people need it" she felt as his humor changed, he was still trying to be playful, most likely for her sake, but it felt forced "My parents died not too long ago because of criminals and I want to help others like me and..."

His voice cracked and she knew memories had to be creeping in, her night had been the same, if he was like her, maybe she could help him the way he did her.

She extended her hand to him and smiled, trying her best to be reassuring and once he realized what she was doing, he smiled again and took her hand.

He did not expect her to push him.

Dick screamed before he felt the wind move around them as they flew to the roof, he observed as the ground became farther away and looked back at her, she had a concentrated expression and he wondered if it was alright for her to carry him, she was still weak from DDSG mistreatments.

She left him in the roof safely, sitting on the edge, looking contentedly at the scene in front of her.

"I had never seen so many different things before" she looked to him amazed and he sat by her side.

"Did you sleep here?" he asked concerned but she surprised him by nodding excitedly.

"I had never been this free in my life!"

"I saw the starlight! And the city lights!" she continued to list all the things she'd seen since the night before and he listened to everything, her enthusiasm contagious.

But she paused in the middle, looking perplexed again.

"I don't know your name" he fell back laughing, she looked so confused and he worried but instead it was that.

"I'm Dick Grayson," he told her taking her hand and shaking it, she looked so confused at him again, he could only laugh at her again.

She decided she would try to understand him another day, so she just smiled "So, it's Dick and Starlight then"

He smiled at her and nodded.

______________________________________

Bruce observed the two children when Alfred spoke from behind him.

"Seem master Grayson is getting along with the miss"

Bruce grumbled an affirmation before continuing "It will be good for her, she could lose control and..."

"Master Bruce" the butler interrupted him softly "It's more than that no? Seems as they shall be good friends"

He looked back at the monitor of the roof camera, the kids talking enthusiastic to each other, Dick had quickly liked her and she only felt truly comfortable near him.

Bruce turned to Alfred, realizing what the man wanted him to see.

"You think I should keep her here"

Alfred simply looked at the two children on the screen, unapologetic.

"She needs a home and peace after what she has been through" he sighed, bringing Dick had been a thing, but could he really help her overcome her past, that really sounded like a joke.

"The DDSG took her in as a baby according to what you found, sir," the butler explained, he had seen her files too and looking at him in the eyes he continued "Even after your researches, you know, she doesn't have a home anymore"

"Besides, separating them now would not be good for either of them"

______________________________________

Dick continued talking about his life in the circus as the girl looked at him, eyes shining at all the things she didn't know. Until in the midst of describing the performances they would do left his neck exposed, the bandaging reminding her that she hurt him.

Her feet quietly touching the roof of the mansion, her face hidden under her hair.

"Is something wrong?" Dick asked, he had felt they were connecting, why was she hiding away again.

"I hurt you," she whispered, hugging her arms, trying to make herself smaller "I didn't want to, but I did, don't you hate me?"

He sat down and asked to sit with him, as he did the day before.

"Not at all, I like your powers!" he told her, looking into her eyes when she turned towards him, not yet out of her shell.

"Could you show me?"

She nodded, not trusting herself not to cry or shout again, so she closed her eyes and focused as she had learned.

A small flame played around them, like a dance, while the wind picked up not only beside them but in the garden too, the sound of the trees like music.

Starlight opened her eyes and saw his blue ones looking around them in amazement, seeing it she gave it more power, the flame grew and she carefully kept it away from him, their clothes flapping as the air picked up strength.

She flew above him and tried to replicate the acrobatics he told her about, with poor results but he didn't seem bothered about it so she just continued, hearing his laugh.

"Did you liked it?" she asked

He nodded excitedly.

"You know, there are others like you, with powers, like Wally and..."

______________________________________

Bruce sighed and looked back at the screen and saw that the two were no longer there but he didn't need to worry for long as both came running into the cave.

"Something is wrong?" he asked getting up.

Dick just shook his head and smiled, showing the balls he was now holding, she had the same expression as him and it surprised Bruce, she hadn't been so incautious with him before.

"Look!"

Dick threw the balls and she used her powers to spin them around, if you didn't look close it was as if she spinning all of them herself.

They then started talking about all the things they could try before Alfred chimed in, telling them to only do it outside the house and that "throwing Dick into the air with high-pressure air was not a good idea".

They left as fast as they came and Alfred approached him again.

"Are you still worried about her?"

Bruce had initially planned to start on another case but as he sat down again he knew there was something else he had to do before.

"We will need to contact the press before they assume too much and while she has good control over her powers," he said as he typed on the computer, erasing her past with the DDSG, changing it to that of a girl orphaned as a baby "but she will need to learn how to hide them from the public, she would be too much of a target otherwise."

But as he filled her new files even Alfred was surprised.

"Wayne, sir?"

He looked at the words on the screen and felt that it was the right decision.

"She will need a surname"

______________________________________

A/N: Hello people! I had initially planned to make reader surnameless, but it didn't felt quite right to me, so I just made her a Wayne! Does it bother you?

And this way she becomes the first to be adopted (snubbing...Jason? I read that he was the first, but that was pre or post-crisis? Because I've also seen Tim as the first...so unsure, sigh)

Finally, the fluff has begun! There will be more tragedy as we go along (for obvious reasons) but for now enjoy the next very fluffy adventures (I'm not the best at comedy, but I will try!)

You might have noticed, Bruce doesn't talk, or act, or do much, it's just that my comic Batman knowledge goes: death in the family(looove it), the new 52 (which is not great as this is a reboot, but not really because people didn't super like it from what I understand, so they sort of rebooted again but not really because now it sort of has some of the good of both before and after 52? Dunno, comics logic confuses the hell out of me sometimes), Batman and Robin (or this goes with the new 52 category?), son of the demon (is this still non-canon, I've seen it said both ways so I'm not sure) and a shit ton of youtube. As you see, not a lot of early Batman, basically my official comic knowledge of Dick as Robin comes from Batman and Robin eternal (is that bad?). Anyway, will try to do that better.

I'm not super sure of this chapter (for all the reasons I just explained) so I just hope you guys like it!p.s: remember what I talked about them singing? It is mostly for the later chapter, it's just that I don't know how OOC that could be, so just letting it known from the beginning, also, it's like random musical but rather look who's talking (the scene of the kitchen).

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #dick x reader #dick grayson imagine #batfam #batfam x reader #batfamily #batman #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne #robin

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theolddarkmachine · 7 years ago

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Kingdom- Interlude: Once Upon A Night

Gajeel has had the dream about dying for the blue haired girl for as long as he can remember. Which is weird, since he’s never met anyone with blue hair in his life.

Levy has always loved myths and legends. So much so, in fact, that she was currently getting her master’s in mythological studies.

What neither of them realized was that they were living a legend all their own.

AKA the one with a knight, a princess, and a curse that keeps bringing them together just to pull them apart.

PREVIOUS CHAPTERS

AO3

THIS WAS THE UPDATE FROM HEEEEEEELL. I literally started it like five days ago T.T Wrote almost all of the update, then decided I hated it and started over, only to have it still bend me over a table and have its way with me lol Anyway, I hope y’all like it, because even though it made me want to die, I actually really do like how it turned out. I just wish it didn’t need to be so painful to get there XD Also, har har, Once Upon A (k)Night. DO YOU SEE WHAT I DID THERE. also fun fact: the name liam means resolute protection in case uh, you were wondering

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

Gajeel Redfox was always meant for greatness. It was an inevitability that was fixed in his fate, drawn out along the length of the string the mythic Greek witches had pulled for him. His father had made sure to assure him whenever he got the chance that the stars would kneel before him one day, and though he was now dead, Gajeel had never been given a reason to doubt his father.

The Iron Dragon’s own story had been one of fierce renown. Painted a hero to most and regarded a villain to others, it should have come as no surprise when he’d been slain by a crowd of enraged villagers shortly after they’d discovered their own personal bad guy was living just in the outskirts of their town. But wasn’t that the tragedy of being the hero? It was never as simple as black and white, good and evil.

That same village had been an enemy of the kingdom at one time. Where they’d seen themselves as the benevolent forces, Metalicana had regarded them as malevolent, and treated them as such. It had only been payback in kind all the years later when they’d slaughtered him in his home, led by a thief that had twisted events into his favor.

What had been an attempted robbery had been spun into a tale of unwarranted violence by a former enemy. His father had been an illustrious warrior, but even age and twenty angry townspeople could wear such a force down. By the time Gajeel had returned from the errands he’d been sent on that day, it was already too late. The pool of crimson and Metalicana’s soulless eyes haunted his dreams since.

It was the first true lesson that Gajeel learned.

Heroes were destined to be great, but never to be happy.

When his father’s friend, Makarov, came to visit days later, he’d found the then nine-year-old sharing his home with a corpse and looking almost as lifeless.

The man, who he later learned to be the king his father had once served-- even befriended-- took Gajeel in that day. Bringing him home to his kingdom, Makarov gave him all the food he could eat, water he could drink, and a plush bed to sleep. He’d even regaled Metalicana’s son with stories of their youth, words flowing freely and fondly as he spoke of his friend and times forgotten. Without any children of his own, the king treated the Iron Dragon’s son as if he were his, allowing him anything he’d asked for. It was this that led Gajeel to ask Makarov if he could begin training for the Royal Guard, knowing that the man would deny him nothing, especially the opportunity to seize the status his father had been so certain he’d obtain.

I wish to follow in my father’s footsteps, he’d said, kneeling before the king with a practiced flourish. I wish to serve by your side, just as he did.

Though the other pages had started their training two years earlier, setting him behind by circumstance, Gajeel had prospered in the training. At first, he was regarded by his comrades in arms with vague curiosity. A newcomer amongst their ranks would only mean another prospect to beat to reach the rank of a royal guard, and one that was already so far behind could hold no competition. If anything, he would offer a moment’s entertainment before he was quickly beat until he dropped out to become a stablehand.

Not much time passed before he proved to the rest of the pages that he deserved their attention, acing all their lessons and passing each test of strength.

Three years had passed since, and though Gajeel hadn’t made any friends of the other knights in training, he had made them take notice. Their mild indifference had curdled into full blown jealousy that was whispered in dark corners amongst themselves. With his head held high and chip balanced carefully on his shoulder, he’d listen to the rumors they hissed as he passed by, allowing them to feed the fire that blazed within his chest.

The king is the only reason he’s here.

He has to be cheating somehow.

I heard he’s the son of the devil.

Each statement was more kindling, fanning the flames into a roaring bonfire that lit his eyes. With its driving force, Gajeel pushed himself to work harder until no one could stand between his singleminded focus and the grandeur he hungered for.

His attention was concentrated on the single point in the distance, blinding him to all else. That tunnel vision had kept him so focused on his goal that he did not want for anyone or anything in his life. Friendships and social ties would only open him to the possibility of being let down, or worse, letting himself down. Hadn’t he learned so much from his father? He’d allowed himself to become complacent amongst others, and it ended up being his death. Gajeel wouldn’t allow others in so that he wouldn’t need to fear being stabbed in the back.

He wore that philosophy like well worn armor, pushing the other pages away from him, and those pages were all too happy to let him.

It wasn’t until one day at the stables that anyone broke through his defenses, with a solid right hook.

Gajeel had often found himself pulled towards the serene atmosphere that clung to the walls of the repository, its air still with nothing but the soft neighs disrupting the peace. Most of the other boys avoided the stable, worried they might be mistaken for something lesser than the meager position they already held, which meant it was the best place to go for an escape. He didn’t mind the near suffocating scent of horse and hay that filled the stable if it meant he could get away from the bothersome pages while he practiced.

The first thing that alerted him to trouble was the low grumbling of voices that didn’t belong in the space. Several voices tripped over themselves as the unwelcome guests fought to be heard over each other. Following the sound deep into the stables, passing the pens, Gajeel picked up one voice that stood out amongst the rest.

“Now what would a stablehand be doing practicing sparring techniques?” It was a sneering, loathsome thing, filled with all the contempt he’d grown accustomed to. The difference was that now that the arrow filled tone was aimed at someone else, it got under his skin, filling his stomach with bubbling anger that made his fingers curl into fists. His steps only quickened when he heard the snap of a body hitting the wooden slat of one of the pens and the small huff of breath that was knocked out of it.

“You aren’t in the royal guard, stablehand,” another voice hissed.

“And you won’t ever be,” said a third.

Rounding the corner at the end of the stable, Gajeel saw four boys crowded around one that was leaning into one of the pens, hand steadying himself against the wood as he glared at those that surrounded him. The boy looked to be about his age, and was nothing but long limbs and obsidian hair. His equally dark eyes were trained on the ground, tracing imagined lines in the dirt at his feet as if he was seeing a plan play out before him. Gajeel couldn’t help but notice a strange scar that sliced through his eyebrow, puckering the skin with a crescent mark free of hair. He wondered if the other pages had given the boy that mark. None of them turned their attention to the new addition to their party, all eyes trained on the flushed stablehand, waiting for what his next move might be. The pages were wolves waiting for the rabbit to make one false move that would justify their attack.

“Last I checked, you weren’t in the royal guard either,” Gajeel replied. A satisfied roll of heat rippled through him when the tallest of the boys jumped at the sound of his voice. Four sets of eyes landed on him, filled with contempt and confusion. The tallest-- presumably the leader-- recovered first, his lips turning up into a pinched smile.

“I didn’t think you could actually speak, Gajeel,” he said, tone filled with dark humor. “We’re honored you’d grace us with your attention.” Dropping a mocking bow, his eyes flashed upwards through his bangs, watching all the while for his reaction.

“And I didn’t think you could stoop any lower,” Gajeel shrugged, ignoring the growling beast beating against the cage of his ribs. “Looks like we were both wrong.”

The air of the stables became charged as they held each others gazes, the power struggle between the two boys confined to the six foot space that separated them. Small gasps from the stablehand were the only sounds that filled the silence as everything else dropped away. It felt like the calm before a tempest, the ominous blanket settling over his skin, raising the hair on his arms. The beast rammed against its confines again, the jolt of it blinding him with a short blast of red against his eyelids.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the other boy said lowly, eyes still angled towards him. Somewhere deep within their dark pits, Gajeel could see the festering glow of hatred. Spurred by the challenge in his voice, he took a step forward, fists tightening.

“It can concern me, or it can concern the guard,” Gajeel arched a studded brow. “Make your choice.”

He watched the moment the page chose to unleash his fury on the him, the corners of his mouth turning downward as he made his decision.

“Devil’s son,” the boy spat, launching toward him like a cracking whip, all his energy focused into the single point of his outstretched fist. Smiling like the demon they accused him of being, Gajeel met the attack in the space between them, turning the sloppy mistake into an advantage as he sidestepped it easily. It wasn’t much of a fight as his fingers closed over the boy’s wrist, the speed of his punch pushing him passed Gajeel, and used the momentum to pull his arm behind his back. Wrenching his still closed fist upwards towards his shoulder blades, the page cried out as as Gajeel pushed the point of his knee up into his back and pushed him to his knees.

The boy’s companions just stood around them, mouths agape as they tried to make sense of the chain of events that had landed their leader in the dirt and hay. Bending at the waist so that he was level with the page’s ear, Gajeel spoke, his voice void of any inflection at all.

“Didn’t your mother teach you not to mess with devils?” Tugging upwards on the arm for good measure, he pushed the boy away.

“If you come here again, I’ll make sure to tell the guard you do not uphold the values of a knight,” he said tersely, brows set low over his eyes as he fixed each boy with a glare as he spoke. The dismissal was clear as they scrambled to exit the stables. Anything to get away from Gajeel and the serious gleam in his crimson eyes. For just a moment, he had the very presence of the Iron Dragon.

As the boys scattered, leaving their friend to push himself off the ground, Gajeel turned his attention back to the stablehand who still leaned against the pen. His look was distant, as if he didn’t even realize what had occurred just moments before. Taking a tentative step forward, Gajeel raised a cautious hand.

“Are you alright?” He asked, fingers grazing over the scratching fabric of the boy’s tunic. Though it was as light as a butterfly’s wing, it snapped the stablehand from his reverie. Without warning, a solid fist landed its blow as it found his mouth. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth and stars danced over his vision at the sudden assault. Shock stole his senses as he ran a tongue over the new split in his lip that was oozing blood down his chin and into his mouth. Once the blinding spots cleared, he saw the look of surprise that had turned the stablehand’s face into a caricature of itself. Eyes wide and mouth frozen open with a small gasp, he looked at him with so much confusion it was almost as if he’d been the one to be hit.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, pushing back further into the wood behind him as if he could disappear into it. “I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t--”

“It’s fine,” Gajeel said, blood staining his teeth pink as he spoke. Clicking his jaw, he wiped a hand over his chin, only managing to smear the red further across his skin. Gathering blood and saliva into his mouth, he spit it on the floor beside him with a satisfying splat. “You have one hell of a right hook.”

“I’m sorry,” the other boy said again, black eyes darting to look at anything but the page in front of him. Shaking his head, Gajeel’s shoulders moved with his laughter.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he paused, waiting for the stablehand to fill in the empty space with his name.

“Liam.” The answer was so soft, he almost missed it amongst the neighing of the horses.

“Liam,” Gajeel nodded in confirmation as he offered his hand. “I’m Gajeel.”

A beat passed as if Liam didn’t know what the gesture was for, before he finally seized it and gave it a curt shake. Though he relaxed a little at the contact, his eyes were still filled with caution as he watched Gajeel carefully. It was a look he’d grown accustomed to, his wild black hair and ruby eyes standing out amongst most. Shrugging it off, he spoke again.

“I’d be happy to practice sparring with you, if you’d like.” Liam’s scarred brow shot up towards his hairline at the offer. Gajeel didn’t know why he’d made the suggestion, his own mind trying to catch up to the words that had left his mouth. He was used to his isolation, only speaking with the knights and Makarov. Anyone else was an unnecessary consequence to crossing paths with someone that mistook him as someone that enjoyed talking. Yet, looking at the stablehand, he recognized the darkness that tinged his gaze. It was the look that had distorted his own.

“Why would you help a stranger?” Liam asked, curiosity winning out over his caution. Gajeel shrugged, nonchalance shaping the bow of his shoulders as to not push the other boy away.

“I figure you can’t be any worse than those I do know. And a punch like that shouldn’t go untrained.” The truth of it all hung between them as Liam sized him up, trying to find any hint of insincerity in the words. Time stretched as he waited for an answer, watching the conflicting emotions that flit across the stablehand’s face as he considered.

“Alright,” he finally said, a small smile stretching across his face as he pushed himself away from the wall. When he wasn’t cowering against the grain of the wood, he stood a couple inches taller than Gajeel. The bonds of a friendship that would last the rest of their days settled over them as the Iron Dragon’s son nodded.

“Alright.” It was then, standing in the stables with a devil’s smile cracking his split lip further, that Gajeel learned his second lesson.

Sometimes others could give you purpose.

***

Gajeel was inducted into the Royal Guard by the time he turned 18, just a year later than his father had. It was a fact Makarov had been quick to point out with a mischievous smile. The new knight refuted it with a reminder that his father had also started training at the right age, and his own daring grin.

Over the years their relationship had evolved from that of an adopted familial bond to one of camaraderie, echoing that of the one the king had once had with Metalicana. He never said it aloud, but Makarov saw so much of his friend in Gajeel that often times he’d forget that they were not one in the same.

Those moments when he’d see the Iron Dragon stalking the halls, only to vanish in the black armor of his son, would send a sharp pain of sorrow ricocheting through his body. The king was always quick to mask the way his expression would falter as he remembered the past. They’d been a simpler time when royal politics and fate hadn’t taken away the two people he’d held dearest, leaving behind their ghosts to haunt him in the halls. After the night with the oracle, it seemed fate still did not believe it had taken enough from him.

The request for a private meeting with Gajeel had come through the guard, a formality that alerted him to the irregular nature of Makarov’s inquiry. Since becoming one of his knights, the king would skip speaking through Gajeel’s superiors, coming to him directly with orders that ranged from gathering a patrol to take around the kingdom to staying by his side as he met with diplomats from foreign lands. This strangeness of it all had him on edge as he finally entered the throne room, shoulders squared beneath the pauldrons that sat atop them.

Makarov sat on his throne, eyes shut as he rubbed his fingers against his temples. For just a moment, Gajeel noted the way age had grayed his hair and etched lines into his face. Stepping further into the room, he cleared his throat to alert the king of his presence before dropping to a knee before him.

“You wished to speak with me?” He asked, filling his voice with as much etiquette as he could. Speaking to the king as a knight and not as his adopted son was something he’d never been good at, easily slipping back into the latter whenever they’d discussed plans and orders. Makarov’s eyes opened, settling their cool blue gaze on him from where he sat. A weariness touched their corners, pinching them at the edges.

“Will you do anything for me?” The question was sharp, pointed at the edges as the words slipped from the king’s mouth without any preface. Gajeel felt his eyebrows pull together in confusion and concern as he looked up at the older man.

“As your knight, or as your kin?” He asked, letting bewilderment color his tone. A knight would follow any order from his king, having no other choice due to the oath he had taken. Kin would do so of their own accord. Gajeel would never disobey an order from Makarov, but the distinction would mean all the difference between obligation and choice.

“As you, Gajeel,” Makarov sighed, the unfamiliar veil of pleading falling over his face. “Will you protect someone for me?”

The weight of the request settled on his shoulders as he ruminated over the vague request.

“Who?” Gajeel asked. Doubt and confusion were a heated mix as they started to rush through his veins. Something was wrong, he could see it in the way the older man was hunched in his throne as if the world rest upon his shoulders and it was crushing him slowly.

“A young woman, living in the outskirts of the kingdom.” Still vague in his explanation, Makarov continued to speak. “I need you to swear that you will do whatever it takes to gain her trust and protect her.”

After a moment’s pause, his gaze boring into the king as if he could pull the answers straight from his mind, Gajeel spoke again.

“Why her?” Those two words cracked what little composure the king had clung to, its mask falling away as his features contorted with fear.

“You should not need a reason to follow my orders, Gajeel,” Makarov snapped, his voice uncharacteristically harsh as he spoke. Despair colored his tone with a muddled anger, his emotion displaced as his dark eyes bore into the knight. “I just need to know that you will do anything to keep her safe.”

Shoulders tensed and expression stormy, the king was a fearsome sight. For the first time in all the years he had known him, Gajeel was frightened by the man. He almost didn’t look human as he glared down at him. It was the look of a man that had lost nearly everything, and was ready to do whatever it took to keep what was left safe.

It was this in mind that Gajeel assented, nodding his head curtly as asking what it was that his king needed of him.

That was when Gajeel learned his third lesson.

Fear could sway even the most resilient of men.

***

The hardest thing Gajeel had ever done, was deceive the blue haired woman that opened the door of the cottage that day.

May I help you?

He had practiced the lie he would use to gain entrance into her home. Had planned how he would get the unknown woman to trust him so he could fulfill his king’s order. What Gajeel hadn’t planned for was the way her golden eyes snatched the breath from his lungs. No amount of preparation could have readied him for the way his heart stuttered in his chest, stopping momentarily before throwing itself into the cage of his ribs when she smiled up at him and invited him in.

Levy. Her name was Levy. And she had enamored him completely by the end of that first meeting. Day after day he returned under the guise of completing the job that had been set for him by Makarov, gaining her trust with honeyed words and sugared intent. He was so dedicated to the ruse, that at some point the gimmick became truth.

Eventually, he stopped returning to the castle, opting to stay with her full time under the thinly disguised excuse of added protection. Ignoring the quizzical look from the queen, the heavy handed silence of the king and the growing pressure located just behind his sternum, Gajeel became a staple in Levy’s life, and she became one in his.

When his father had told Gajeel he’d manage to obtain greatness, he hadn’t thought that greatness would so easily fit against his chest, clutched within the halo of his arms. Levy had worked her way into his heart slowly, her hold upon his affections tightening ever so slowly that he hadn’t noticed she held it completely in her palm until it was already too late. She was the other half of his soul; the light to his darkness; daylight to his moonlight night sky. Her radiance grounded him, and her brilliance enthralled him. All she needed to do was smile up at him, the sun dancing in her hair and wind rouging her cheeks, to land a carefully shot arrow between his ribs.

She built him up while simultaneously holding all the power to tear him down. But wasn’t that the glory of love? Odes, and sonnets, and epics were created in honor of the sheer heroism that came with loving and being loved in return.

Happiness filled his days, pushing his original intentions to the deep recesses of his mind. Soon, Makarov’s original request was lost in the far reaches of Gajeel’s memory, buried beneath honey eyes and azure hair. It was enough to lull the Iron Dragon’s son into a false reality, seeing only what he wanted to and ignoring the very fact he’d learned all those years ago.

Heroes weren’t meant to be happy. He had let himself forget that truth. The mistake was fatal, leading him to the final lesson that he would learn.

Love was worth dying for.

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

#gajevy #Gajeel X Levy #Gajeel Redfox #Levy McGarden #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #kingdom #PEEP THAT LIAM INFO #WHY DID I PICK LIAM?#1) BECAUSE OF ITS MEANS #AND 2) CUZ IT STARTS WITH LI AND IS FOUR LETTERS #aw man i was trying so hard in the first version of this chapter #im kinda sad cuz i really wanted to talk about metalicana's wife and stuff but it just didn't work #so imma talk about her here #she was one of the queen's ladies #and her name was luciana as a shoutout to my original protag name lol #aaaaaaaand she died giving birth to gajeel sad day

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ranger-of-estel · 7 years ago

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A Legend Returns: The Truth of Things

Leonard returns to the Waverider, and finally learns exactly who the men he'd worked alongside really are.

Also on AO3

After meeting Lily Stein, and spending a couple more hours being questioned by Team Flash Sara approaches Len where he’s taken residence leaning against an unoccupied wall. “I’m going to head back to the ship.”

One eyebrow rises, “Lisa and I were going to head to a bar later.”

Sara smiles, but it’s halfhearted. “I’d love too, but I have a few things to take care of before we leave.” She pats his crossed arms, “You two have fun.”

Before he can say more she’s moved away, sharing embraces and well wishes with the others in before disappearing out of the room. He and Lisa leave not long after, and he finds himself surrounded by the familiar sounds and smells of Saints & Sinners. Sitting in a booth with burgers and drinks.

“So,” Lisa pops another fry into her mouth. “You’re going back tonight?”

“Don’t know,” he leans back in the booth, watching her. “I could stay?”

“Stay?!” She looks at him in something between surprise and anger. “Absolutely not!”

He blinks in surprise, “No?”

“I mean,” She softens a little, “don’t get me wrong, I want you home….But-” she motions outside. “You belong with Mick, and Sara, so you have to go back to the ship.”

He nods, both knowing there is no real argument to be had. “I’ll try and stop in more, find a way to keep in touch.” He finishes his burger.

She smiles, “Sara has already promised that.”

“Has she now?” he smirks, “Plotting behind my back Sis?”

She scoffs, “Hardly, we weren’t just planning visits for you.” She teases, then quiets. After a moment her eyes meet his once more, “Sara cares for you Lenny.”

He sighs, “Sara cares for the team,”

Lisa rolls her eyes, “She hasn’t kissed the whole team.” He looks at her with some surprise, she just grins smugly. “She told me about it.” She changes to an almost scolding look, “And how she called your bluff with the gun.”

“I was more than a little on edge at the time…besides.” he frowns. “That’s been more than a year ago for her. A lot can change.”

“Only one way to find out,” she shrugs, but he can see a glint in her eye. She steals one of his fries, dipping it in the ketchup still on her plate. “Now come on, I want your help canvasing a job before you leave.”

He finishes his beer and they head out. It doesn’t take long for him to realize it’s little more than an excuse to be together, buying time before he returns to the ship. Her target is one he’s hit before; not only does she have his notes, she’s got part of his original team. But he mentions neither, finding himself equally reluctant to part with her.

They are just reaching their bikes when Leonard’s phone rings. “Mick.”

“Boss, we got trouble!” Len can hear battle in the background, “Bounty hunters.” And then the line goes dead.

“Lenny?” Lisa is looking at him with concern.

“The team’s in trouble,” he steps up to the bike. “I have to go.”

“I’m coming too.” She states, approaching her own.

“No!” he forces himself to calm down, releasing where he’s caught her elbow and evening his voice. “Not this time Sis.” He looks at her, pleading. “I need you safe.”

At first she glares, but after a moment she nods. The little girl back in her eyes once more. “Be careful Lenny.”

He gives her a small smile. “Always am.” Pressing a soft kiss to her crown before adding. “See you around, Sis.” He mounts the bike, knocking the kickstand back and roaring the machine to life as he pulls the helmet on. Then he’s peeling out of the ally, navigating to where he started the morning before.

He hardly takes the time to park before pulling the coldgun from the back of the motorcycle. Swinging his helmet to hit one of the bounty hunters from the back, saving Raymond a painful shot to the shoulder.

“Boss!” he ducks to the side, flames hitting something to his right as he slides into place with his back against his partner. They dispatch the remaining enemies with very little trouble.

“Everybody alright?” Sara asks as she approaches.

“Mostly superficial cuts,” Amaya replies, her gaze dropping to a bleeding gash on Mick’s arm. “Nothing Gideon can’t patch up.”

Sara nods, “Good,” She swivels slightly, “Ray! Call Barry, let him know we have some guests to pick up.” The man nods, reaching up to touch something on his helmet as she returns her attention to the rest of the team. “Now everyone on board, we need to get out before reinforcements arrive.”

They nod in agreement, everyone making their way back toward the ship. Leonard notes Sara’s walk is both slower and heavier than normal as she moves just in front of him. But she’s moving purposefully toward the bridge the moment they step on the ship.

“Jax, tell me she’s ready for takeoff?” she calls down one of the halls.

“I am perfectly capable of getting us into the timestream Captain.” The A.I. replies.

“Then let’s get out of here.” The moment they are strapped in she gets them out of Central City. Once they are safely in the timestream Nate makes his way toward medbay, Amaya dragging Mick close behind. Sara is talking to Jax, and Len gathers from the conversation that the men appear to have been sent by Maestro, and some minor damage was done to the ship as well. She approaches him next, “You alright?”

“Peachy,” he frowns, motioning to where one of her arms rest awkwardly around her abdomen. “You?”

“Bruised, maybe a fractured rib…” she drops the arm, frowning. “I’m sorry your night with Lisa got cut short.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner,” he replies with a frown of his own.

“Don’t worry about it Len,” she pats his shoulder, “Get some rest Crook, things are about to get interesting.”

He can’t help but scoff as she makes her way down the hall, shaking his head. “That’s one word for it.” He returns to his room, cleaning his gun before putting it and the leather jacket away. It’s late, but he knows sleep isn’t going to be an option a while, so he makes his way to Mick’s room instead.

“Hey Boss,” The other man greets him with a half nod, not moving from where he’s feeding small pieces of cheese to Axel…Whom Leonard is yet to understand the man’s attachment too. “Need something?”

“Just checking to see if Gideon got you reassembled,” he drawls, looking to the fresh skin on his partner’s arm.

“Good as new.” Mick grunts, turning to give him a curious glance. “Surprised Lisa wasn’t with you.” He motions toward the main deck. “Always came to see Sara and me off.”

“She’s been on board?” Len’s head tilts slightly.

“Course,” he nods. “She and Science girl both. I keep telling Blondie they’re going to stowaway if she ain’t careful.” Mick’s eyes hold something close to amusement, “But none of that’s why you came in here.”

“Mm,” Leonard hums thoughtfully, leaning back against the wall as his arms cross. “I was wondering if that offer for old movies still stands?”

Mick smirks, “As long as you’re getting the beer.”

Len feels a smile tug at his mouth, “I think I can manage that.” He turns, making his way toward the galley. Part of the reason their partnership has always worked so well is that they’ve never needed to spend time together outside of ‘work’; and yet, he enjoys the other man’s company when they do.

“Snart, hey!” He’s drawn from his thoughts at the ever cheery voice. Necks of four beers in hand as he turns to face the younger man. “Thanks again for saving my skin back there.”

“Well,” he drawls, “I would have hated to see that little scientist of yours upset.” Ray flushes and Leonard smirks.

The other man recovers quickly, “Oh, speaking of the ladies.” He tilts his head curiously, “How is Sara doing?”

“Couple bruises –“

“No,” Ray cuts him off with a shake of his head. “I meant after her trip.” He frowns. “I know going back after letting Laurel’s killer go couldn’t have been easy.”

“She let him go?” The question is out before Len can’t think better of it.

Raymond just nods, “All I can guess is she found out killing Damien in the past would cause other aberrations in the timeline.”

“Of course,” He shakes his head, “She seemed herself when she joined us in Central.” He adds with a shrug.

“Good,” the other man nods to himself, picking up the mug of tea he’d been fixing and turning to leave the galley once more.

Beers still in hand Leonard makes his way to the library. “Gideon, pull records for Damien Darhk.” Hundreds of files flash across the screen as he sets the drinks on the desk. “Narrow to results concerning Star City.”

“Is there something specific you are looking for Mister Snart?” Gideon asks

“I’m not sure,” he lies, walking up to begin rearranging the icons on the screen. He notes several articles with pictures of Damien but captioned as Kenneth Vender. Something about H.I.V.E. and what looks like aftermath of an earthquake. But the article he finally settles on says, ‘Beloved DA killed in uprising – Mayoral candidate claims tragedy.’

“There you are!” Mick’s voice comes from the doorway, “Was beginning to think-“ he trails off, coming to stand at Leonard’s side with a sigh. “Was wondering when you’d get around to looking this up.”

Leonard turns to the other man, “What happened, really?”

Mick shrugs, “Sara didn’t tell us much, but.” He approaches the screen. “Darhk was apparently planning to destroy the earth,” he pulled up a couple of the pictures Len had assumed linked to a massive earthquake. “Captain’s sister was trying to prevent it, got stabbed by Damien...died in the hospital.” He shakes his head, “Arrow ended up killing the guy, not that the fact seemed to settle Captain much.”

“And she let him go?” Leonard wasn’t sure if it was surprise or anger that made him ask.

Mick nods, then crosses his arms. “Not without a fight though…she spent the first part of our fight with the Legion out to kill him.” He shrugs, “But then we found you,” Leonard feels his stomach knot; the idea he’d worked alongside the man who left that broken look in Sara’s eyes gnawing at him. After another minute or so Mick shakes his head, making his way toward the desk. “Blondie doesn’t blame you.” Len frowns, Mick grabbing the beers as he heads for the door. “When you get done thinking come find me.”

Once Mick is gone Leonard turns back to the screen, “Gideon.”

“Yes, Mister Snart?” she replies,

“Give me any files pertaining the Legion Members and Sara Lance up to the present date.” He approaches the screen once more. Gideon leaves them in three neat stacks, he quickly dismisses his own name before pulling up Damien’s. Most of the information pertains to various face offs between them, but there is some further information on Laurel’s death. He’s amazed at her restraint, he knows that if there places had been changed he’d have taken the man out the first chance he had. Sara’s grown in the year, this isn’t the woman he stopped in Russia, not the woman who had to kill to fill a void. He almost smiles.

It’s gone the moment he changes to Malcolm Merlyn’s stack. He’d heard the other man talk about being the head of the League. He’d absently wondered if Sara had crossed paths with him…But as he looks at Gideon’s notes he feels bile in his throat. He’d been working alongside the very man who had ordered Sara’s death. The man behind the three scars he’d glimpsed on her abdomen in med bay. The reason her family had brought her back with the bloodlust, the reason she believed herself a monster.

“Gideon,” His mouth feels dry, “Where is Sara?”

“She appears to be moving her things into the quarters previously used by Captain Hunter.” She replies easily.

He makes his way through the ship, mind still in turmoil. It’s not until he’s standing in the doorway, Sara’s blue eyes looking up at him curiously that he realizes he hasn’t the slightest idea what he is going to say to her. “Hey Len,” her voice is borderline concern, “everything alright?”

“Peachy,” he replies instinctively, settling against her doorframe as he tries to force his thoughts into something more coherent. “You and Amaya not working out?” he drawls, motioning to the single box of belongings on the desk.

She shrugs, “Figured if Rip wasn’t going to use it there was no reason to double bunk.” She steps closer, frown tugging at her lips. “You sure you’re alright? You look pale.”

“I’m fine Assassin,” he wants to apologize. For what’s happened to her, for working with the men who wronged her so brutally. But the words aren’t there, and the ones that do come are far too vulnerable for his lips. “Just wondered what the plan is from here?”

She sighs, returning to the box and pulling out a couple frames which she arranges on the desk. “Maestro has proven himself a threat, so our game of chase is over.” She checks her hip on the desk, arms rising to mimic his. “I figure we find somewhere for a proper face off, somewhere civilians won’t get caught in the crossfire.”

“And you think he’ll take the bait?” Leonard questions.

“I think he’s angry, and he’s desperate.” She frowns, “And desperate men will do anything to get what they want.”

The ship jerks violently, causing them to throw out their hands for support and balance. “What the Hell?” Leonard growls.

“It appears that they have located our ship in the timestream,” Gideon states, tone far too cheery for the red lights beginning to flash around them. “They are trying to knock us out.”

Sara rushes by, Leonard tight on her heels. “Gideon, get the others to the bridge or tell them to strap in.” She swings into the Captian’s chair as Leonard drops into one of the ones at her side. “This isn’t going to be a pretty landing.”

Chapter 5 (x) Chapter 7 (x)

#A Legend Returns #Captain Canary #Leonard Snart #Sara Lance #Mick Rory #The Truth of Things #Chapter 6

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wiremagazine · 5 years ago

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SPOTLIGHT FILMS: 22 OF THE BEST FILMS AT THE 2019 OUTSHINE FILM FESTIVAL FORT LAUDERDALE EDITION

Photos and film synopses provided by OUTshine Film Festival

ADAM (U.S., 2019) Director: Rhys Ernst In English

It's 2006 and awkward, self-conscious Adam Freeman has just finished his junior year of high school. His cool older sister Casey (Margaret Qualley) suggests he visit her in New York for the summer. Casey has enthusiastically embraced life amidst Brooklyn's young LGBTQ+ community and invites Adam to tag along with her to queer bars, marriage equality rallies and other happenings. When Adam falls at first sight for Gillian, a smart, beautiful young woman in this new crowd, she mistakenly assumes he is trans. Flummoxed and enamored, he haplessly goes along with her assumption, resulting in an increasingly complex comedy – and tragedy – of errors he's ill-equipped to navigate.

AND THEN WE DANCED (Georgia, Sweden, France, 2019) Director: Levan Akin In Georgian, with English subtitles

Merab is a talented dancer. His burgeoning romance with stage partner Mary is thrown into disarray by the arrival of the magnetic Irakli, leading to a forbidden sexual attraction that recalls those in Moonlight and God's Own Country. Georgia is a country that only celebrated its first LGBTQ+ pride event seven years ago and its society remains conservative. Because of this, And Then We Danced has stirred controversy and many involved remain anonymous out of fear. Amid the potential for socially explosive fireworks, Swedish director of Georgian heritage Levan Akin has captured something uniquely tender and personal.

BENJAMIN (UK, 2019) Director: Simon Amstell In English

In Simon Amstell's affecting, bittersweet comedy, a rising young filmmaker is thrown into emotional turmoil by a burgeoning romance and the upcoming premiere of his second feature. It's perhaps no surprise that the imminent release of Benjamin's sophomore feature plunges him into an existential crisis. In this heightened state of insecurity, even meeting his potential dream match, young French musician Noah, doesn't soothe Benjamin's fears and self-loathing. And that's before he has to screen his film to the merciless film festival audiences. Benjamin is a low-key, intimate film, exposing the contradictions of a creative culture while perfectly balancing drama and comedy.

DEFIANT SOULS (Cuba, Switzerland, 2018) Director: Fernando Pérez and Laura Cazador In Spanish, with English subtitles

Defiant Souls is based on the true story of a woman who, disguised as a man, became the first female surgeon in Latin America. In the early 19th century, Swiss doctor Enrique Faber (Sylvie Testud at her best) travels to Cuba to search for his son, who is said to have been killed in a slave uprising. The local population is jealous of Faber's success as a surgeon and his marriage to Juana, an attractive outsider. Before long, rumors spread regarding his high-pitched voice and his gentle features, and a drama of epic proportions unfolds around one of the most scandalous cases in Cuban colonial history.

EVERYBODY CHANGES (Panama, 2019) Director: Arturo Montenegro In Spanish, with English subtitles

The Ponce Family is the perfect family. They live in the quiet, close-knit mountain town of Bambito, where everyone knows everyone and, unfortunately, everyone knows everyone's business. Frederico is the successful father, Carol the loving mother, and they have three wonderful boys. Despite appearances, perfect might not be the best way to describe the family as Frederico and Carol share a secret: Lizzie, the woman that Frederico has always wanted - no, needed - to be.

FROM ZERO TO I LOVE YOU (U.S., 2019) Director: Doug Spearman In English

Pete Logsdon is just a guy in Philadelphia whose fear of intimacy creates his history of getting involved with married men. His father and his soon-to-be step-mother are on him to settle down and find someone who's actually available. Instead, he finds a man named Jack who is fifteen years into a perfect marriage, has two beautiful children and an enviable wife, and is firmly inside the closet. Could this be the one? Featuring strong chemistry between the leads, director Doug Spearman (Noah's Arc) creates authentic characters in this highly engaging, obstacle-filled romantic comedy.

HAM: A MUSICAL MEMOIR (U.S., 2019) Director: Andrew Putschoegl In English

In this dazzlingly filmed live performance of Sam Harris' award-winning one-man musical, Harris belts out original songs and beloved ballads while playing 11 different roles to tell his own life story - from growing up gay in Oklahoma's Bible Belt to his escape for Los Angeles, where his rendition of "Over the Rainbow" on Star Search led to fame, Broadway, television, platinum records and Carnegie Hall. But after the highs and lows of a life in show business, Sam ultimately learns to ask: when is enough finally enough?

LEONARD SOLOWAY'S BROADWAY (U.S., 2019) Director: Jeff Wolk In English

Through verité documentary footage, humorous storytelling, interviews and archival film material, Leonard Soloway's Broadway captures a Broadway few ever see as told through the eyes of a legendary Broadway producer you've probably never heard of. He lives an unconventional life on his own terms and, over a 70-year span, staged over 100 shows (and counting) which generated history making headlines, over 40 Tony Awards, 62 Tony Nominations, 21 Drama Desk Awards, 29 Drama Desk nominations and 3 Pulitzer Prizes, in addition to launching the careers of famous stars known the world over.

SELL BY (U.S., 2019) Director: Mike Doyle In English

Does every relationship have an expiration date? Adam and Marklin are about to find out. Their 5-year relationship has gone from a passionate flame to a medium burn, forcing them to reconcile with each other's shortcomings all while watching their support network crumble around them. But in this mess, hope springs eternal as they all muddle their way through to try and make life work. Featuring Scott Evans, Augustus Prew, Kate Walsh, and Academy Award nominee Patricia Clarkson, Sell By asks the timeless questions… how do you know who's right for you and how do you know when to let go?

SONG LANG (Vietnam, 2018) Director: Leon Le In Vietnamese, with English subtitles

An unlikely bond develops between hunky, brooding and tough debt collector Dung and Linh Phung, a charismatic young opera singer from a struggling Cai-luong troupe (traditional Vietnamese opera). The two meet when Dung comes to forcefully collect a debt from the opera troupe, but when their paths cross again, a friendship – and then more – develops, awakening surprising, tender feelings in both men. Their story, too, soon scales operatic heights. Director Leon Le has delivered a rich drama, a smoldering relationship between two apparent opposites set against the backdrop of a gorgeous, fading art form. Set in 1980s Saigon, Song Lang is a gritty underworld noir hiding a tender, romantic heart.

STRAIGHT UP (U.S., 2019) Director: James Sweeney In English

The path to relationship bliss is often filled with self-doubt, second guessing and other methods of self-sabotage, but Todd takes this to a whole new level. After all, he is questioning his sexuality… not a good start when forging a new relationship. Todd might be gay. Rory might not care. The result is a neat, romantic-comedy drama with a twist; this is a love story without the thrill of copulation. With wit, humor and poignant moments, coupled with some of the best rapid-fire one-liners in a movie, Straight Up is a feature film about intellectual soul mates.

THE PRINCE (Chile, Argentina, Belgium, 2019) Director: Sebastián Muñoz In Spanish, with English subtitles

Chile, 1970. During a night of heavy drinking, Jaime, a lonely 20-year-old young man, stabs his best friend in what seems a crime of passion. Sentenced to prison, he meets The Stallion, an older and respected man in whom he finds protection and from whom he learns about love and loyalty. Behind bars, Jaime becomes known as The Prince. But as their relationship grows stronger, The Stallion faces the violent power struggles within the prison. The Prince is brutal, raw and cold, yet also beautiful, sincere and honest.

THE SHINY SHRIMPS (France, 2019) Director: Maxime Govare and Cédric Le Gallo In French, with English subtitles

Matthias, an Olympic swimming champion at the end of his career, makes a homophobic statement on TV. His punishment: coach the Shiny Shrimps, a very flamboyant, very bad and very LGBTQ water polo team. They have only one thing in mind: to qualify for the Gay Games in Croatia where the hottest international LGBTQ athletes will compete. It's the start of a bumpy and joyful ride. If the Bad News Bears were a water polo team, and LGBTQ, they would be The Shiny Shrimps. Faster, higher, stronger… and fabulous.

UNSETTLED: SEEKING REFUGE IN AMERICA (U.S., 2019) Director: Tom Shepard In English

A remarkable look at the untold stories of LGBTQ+ refugees and asylum seekers who have fled intense persecution from their home countries and who are resettling in the U.S. The film follows four new arrivals, each of whom have escaped potential peril in their native countries for being different. They've landed in the purported "gay mecca" of San Francisco, yet even there, building a new life in an adopted nation is a precarious undertaking. As new leadership in America continues to restrict immigrants and drastically cuts the flow of refugees and asylum seekers, Unsettled: Seeking Refuge in America humanizes a group about which few people know.

WHERE WE GO FROM HERE (U.S., 2018) Director: Anthony Meindl In English, French, with English subtitles

In Binghamton, an ESL teacher dealing with domestic abuse finds even greater violence at her school. In Orlando, two lovers drifting apart may be separated by the hate of another. In Paris, friends on an introspective night out are caught up in a brutal madness. Three acts of terror disrupt the lives of ordinary people. Will love win out over violence? With gripping performances and storylines all too familiar and frightening, Where We Go From Here is not an easy film to digest nor is it a question easily answered, but both are ultimately worth the effort.

MEN'S SHORTS

Black Hat Director: Sarah Smith, U.S., 15 minutes

Softer Director: Lovell Holder, U.S., 10 minutes

The Proposal Director: Gerlando Infuso, France, 15 minutes

Thrive Director: JamieDi Spirito, UK, 17 minutes

Touchscreen Director: Arthur Halpern, U.S., 15 minutes

Vacaciones Director: Juan Olivares, Spain, 21 minutes

Wonder Director: Javier Molina, U.S., 16 minutes

This was originally published in Wire Magazine Issue 20.2019

#wire magazine #wiremag.com #wire #miami #miami beach #south beach #sobe #fort lauderdale #wynwood #wilton manors #gay #lgbt #glbt #outshine film festival fort lauderdale #outshine #outshine film festival #spotlights #films

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kadobeclothing · 5 years ago

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Connor Swindells Interview: The Sex Education Star Is Arousing Interest

Some people are noisy. We all know one, or a few. Inane babblers, frequent moaners, heavy stompers, constant ramblers, messy slurpers. But when actor Connor Swindells walks into an east London studio for our shoot, it’s taken a few minutes for the room to clock the fact our 23-year-old star is here. Light on his toes despite the 6 foot (albeit wiry) frame – a remnant from his former life as a boxer – and with a reserved, clear and impressively precise way of speaking, he’s the sort of rising star who prefers to let the work do the talking.Look back at Swindells’ relatively short acting journey to date and there’s plenty for him to shout about though. Raised in a Sussex village, Swindells didn’t even study drama at secondary school. His first foray came at 19 when he bagged the lead role in a local am-dram play after making a bet with a friend. Two years later, he was cast as one of the film’s leads in The Vanishing alongside Hollywood A-lister Gerard Butler.The big break came in January of last year. To the naysayers, Sex Education was meant to be just another teen-bait Netflix series to soon fade into obscurity alongside its largely unknown cast. OUTFIT CREDITS | Denim shirt: Acne, Rollneck: Reiss40 million subscribers watched it in the first month, putting it in the top ten most-watched Netflix shows in the UK in 2019. With those figures, Netflix was never going to let the series get away from them. And so exactly a year later, Swindells, one of the leads from the first season, is promoting the second with us.Sex Education’s irreverent, nostalgia-inducing take on teenagers coming to terms with their sexuality became a hit with the critics. Social media took the show to its heart, especially the young, relatable cast. The Instagram follower counts exploded. Swindells has half a million. Random people started coming up to him within the first week. OUTFIT CREDITS | Jumper: Richard James, Trousers: DAKS, Shoes: Crockett & Jones“I remember the first person that recognised me in the street was a 50-year-old guy,” reveals Swindells. “Then I realised this was going to be big. This isn’t just going to be 16-year-old kids.”Despite the monumental following, Swindells isn’t much of a poster compared to his fellow male co-stars, Asa Butterfield, who plays Otis, the lead of the show if there really is one, and Ncuti Gatwa who plays Eric, one of the victims of Swindells’s high school bully Adam and an unlikely romantic interest by the end of the first series.“I mainly just use Instagram to promote my work and things I care about. It’s less about my personal life like it would be [for] other people. I’ve shared personal things on Instagram but it’s always with a cause behind it. If I’m talking about a charity, Cancer UK especially, something I care about then I’ll post about it.” OUTFIT CREDITS | Denim shirt: Acne, Rollneck: Reiss, Jeans: Rag & Bone, Boots: Crockett & Jones Swindells lost his mother to cancer when he was 7. “It’s a nice thing to give back. It’s something I think she’d be proud of.” His father was then forced to move back in with his parents, Swindells in tow and with all the struggles the loss of a spouse can bring.“It must have been really tough for my dad. He was in his late 30s at the time my mum died. We moved in with my grandparents, which was a weird dynamic. He did an amazing job. I’m really lucky he was there for me. I’m saying that with perspective though. When I was growing up I was a little shit.” OUTFIT CREDITS | (LEFT) Sunglasses: Cutler & Gross, Blazer: DAKS, OUTFIT CREDITS | (RIGHT) Jacket: DAKS, T-shirt: Uniqlo, Sunglasses: Cutler & Gross Much like his character Adam, school didn’t come easily for Swindells. Coming from a working-class background of labourers and farmers, Swindells assumed he’d follow that well-trodden path. “I was terrible at school. I just didn’t feel like I was on a progressive path.”The lightbulb moment came not from acting, but from boxing.“It kept me on the straight and narrow when I was navigating my adolescent years. I think martial arts, in general, are perfect for young people to get to grips with. There are things that I learned in that gym that I’ll hold for the rest of my life.“When you’re doing martial arts or boxing, you’re forced to be in the moment. You can’t think about anything else, because if you do, you get hurt. You can’t focus on anything but the situation you’re faced with and how to overcome that.“I’ve just started Brazilian jiu-jitsu, and the big takeaway I’ve had from it is you learn to apply pressure that’s needed in certain situations. And that can be anything. It’s about learning to control your energy in a way that’s beneficial for everyone. It’s more of a mental discipline than it is a physical one.” OUTFIT CREDITS | Shirt: DAKS, Trousers: Richard James, Shoes: Crockett & Jones That path has led Swindells away from the remote, “barren” village where he grew up to the leafy district of Islington in north London, sharing a flat with his partner, fellow actress Aimee Lou Wood and her sister. Wood is also in the cast of Sex Education, playing Aimee Gibbs, the initial love interest to Swindells’s character.Interest around their IRL relationship is high among the show’s young fans on social media. Swindells is reluctant to fan the flames. Any questions about the relationship are met with one of his characteristic stares. The sharp-as-a-dagger jawline stiffens. The dark brown eyes start to pierce.“Yeah, we met on the show,” he says unnerving glare failing to falter. Is their relationship anything like it is on the show? “When people come up to us and meet us they see I’m nothing like Adam and Aimee is nothing like Aimee at all.” Jacket: DAKS, T-shirt: Uniqlo, Sunglasses: Cutler & GrossThe message is clear. Luckily, he’s a lot more forthcoming about his bromance with other show love interest, Gatwa.“We had quite an odd relationship at the start because he thought I hated him at the beginning, but I was just really nervous about starting and I’m very quiet. When he gets nervous he gets louder, and when I get nervous I get quieter. He did not get me whatsoever and he was very anxious about doing intimate scenes with someone who wasn’t putting themselves out there.“That left really quickly though, and we became very close. He’s just a great guy. An amazing actor. I love knowing that he’s a good friend and I can rely on him and he’ll always come through. I like to think he thinks the same of me.”And will Adam and Eric’s relationship similarly blossom in the second series? “There’s potentially a lot of scenes with him in the next series too,” says Swindells, letting out a wry smile. “Can’t say much more than that.” OUTFIT CREDITS | Sunglasses: Cutler & Gross, Blazer: DAKS, Vest: Uniqlo, Shoes: Crockett & Jones Despite only being in his early-20s and with just a small back catalogue of roles behind him, he’s alarmingly calculated in what he says, always without fail, pausing to think before speaking. It’s something the secretive execs at Netflix are surely thankful for in this moment. And it gives the impression of a young man in control. Disciplined from a childhood of daily combat training. Strengthened by the tragedy of his mother’s passing.With some young actors who blow up stratospherically, especially in this 24-hour age of non-stop social media alerts, you worry about the mental repercussions. The elated highs of being on one of the most anticipated Netflix shows of 2020. The subsequent disappointments – lost roles, show cancellations, award season snubs – that every acting talent must endure.Can they cope with the rollercoaster? With Swindells, you can’t help feeling everything is taken imperiously in his near-silent stride. He’s so sure of who he is and who he wants to be. He’s just going to roll with every punch.Sex Education available on Netflix from 17 JanuaryCredits Photographer: Will BremridgeCreative Direction & Styling: Luke SampsonStyling Assistant: Andrew BurlingHair & Make-Up: Bobbie Ross Source link

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bforbookslut · 7 years ago

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Star-Crossed Lovers Learn to Thrive, Not Survive in Roni Loren’s January Romance, The Ones Who Got Away

I have given The Ones Who Got Away by Roni Loren a ☆☆☆☆ rating. It is a swoon worthy Contemporary Romance. Sourcebooks Casablanca publishes it. It will be published January 2, 2018.

The synopsis reads:

Liv's words cut off as Finn got closer. The man approaching was nothing like the boy she'd known. The bulky football muscles had streamlined into a harder, leaner package and the look in his deep green eyes held no trace of boyish innocence.

It's been twelve years since tragedy struck the senior class of Long Acre High School. Only a few students survived that fateful night—a group the media dubbed The Ones Who Got Away.

Liv Arias thought she'd never return to Long Acre—until a documentary brings her and the other survivors back home. Suddenly her old flame, Finn Dorsey, is closer than ever, and their attraction is still white-hot. When a searing kiss reignites their passion, Liv realizes this rough-around-the-edges cop might be exactly what she needs...

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Can you guys believe that it’s almost Christmas? I cannot. It seems like the year had quickly creeped up on us and passed us by! Time flew so extremely fast this year that I’m still trying to catch up. Today’s review is not YA but rather, it’s a bonafide romance and oh so definitely swoon-worthy and curl your toes worthy and let’s just get to it. As always, my reviews may contain spoilers. I say may because what’s a spoiler to you may not be a spoiler for me.

Put aside your YA goggles for a while and lend me your ears, fellow bookworms.

When the cover was first revealed, I immediately thought The Notebook, the iconic rain scene and the steamy sex that followed. That’s exactly what The Ones Who Got Away brings you: a heated young romance is rekindled, filled with tons of heartaches, tears and why-the-fucks. It is also sexy, witty and charming.

I can wax poetic about how great it is that Liv, our main character, has girl friends who are willing to drop everything to make sure she’s alright, especially when a guy has broken her heart or when the nightmares are too much. I can go on about how she’s chasing her dreams and not letting anyone tell her no. But let’s face it, The Ones Who Got Away is a romance.

And a romance means a great leading lady and a leading man with loads of angst, pain and heart-rending confessions whispered in the dark of night followed by tear-your-clothes-off sex.

The Ones Who Got Away = check, check and check.

I have a very soft spot for small town romances and there’s always very strong angst and tons of plot lines to explore. But, I’ve never, ever seen one where the lead characters, Liv, Finn and their friends are survivors of a mass shooting/gunman rampage. I’ve read one where the leading lady is a survivor of a bombing but not teenage shootout. It adds an extra level of hurt/pain not just to the romance but also to the characters psyche and it’s very believable. It also calls to a more contemporary situation and I love that the long-term effects were explored, and not just the immediate aftermath.

The shooting drives a lot of their motivations and who they are as people, hence, the title of this book.

In terms of romance plots, I think The Ones Who Got Away does nothing new and I wasn’t particularly fond Liv and Finn’s declarations of love. But, that’s a trope (or maybe not even a trope) that I see quite often in contemporary romances these days. The leads are just too willing to fall head over heels in love. There definitely are more ways than one to break a character’s heart AND keep the “I love you’s” for when it’s closer to the end.

But, I do absolutely love how naturally their relationship developed.

This brings me to another thing which I really loved: they were high school sweethearts! The tension between their former selves and who they are today was just perfect. It’s like they had unfinished business (unfinished sexual business, that is) and now, they’ve returned to find their other halves or rather, another way to see the world.

But, along with my dislike of the too-early-declarations, the sex was blah. While our first meeting with Finn and Liv finds the pair almost rutting up on the back porch of a bar (and I dare say it made my toes curl), the same sort of sexy momentum does not continue throughout The Ones Who Got Away. The sex was boring.

Moving along, let’s talk a little about the characters.

Liv is a downright sweetheart. She’s genuine and honest; for a leading lady, she’s close to perfection. Which irks me a little but she’s also incredibly sexy and playful, igniting a spark in ice cold, Finn. Her only flaws stem from her inability to break out of her routine, mundane life and chase her artistic dreams. Also, she gets nightmares and suffers from PTSD and anxiety, which although not heavily highlighted in the book, does make an appearance.

Finn is sexy, charming and cold. From the moment we meet him, Finn is the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. He’s brooding and silent, content to go through life as a stoic hero. I love that Finn isn’t flawless (unlike Liv). He also has a bit of a hero complex, after being branded the town’s hero when he takes a bullet saving Rebecca, their classmate. And, he goes through life trying to live up to it, joining the FBI and wanting to take down the guys responsible for the massacre/shooting.

Put both Liv and Finn together and it’s magic. They both belong together, they know it, we know it and their friends know it. But they can’t (read: don’t want) to be together. Finn lives a life of semi-adventure, chasing baddies and basically having no stability. He doesn’t want to put Liv through waiting for him. Liv, although she is chasing her dreams, is looking for stability in the arms of the only man to have ever sparked her curiosity and emotions.

But, they bang any way. And steamy banging in the shower, in the bed, against the wall. Everywhere.

The Ones Who Got Away is definitely set up to be part of an amazing series, featuring Liv and Finn’s other friends, Rebecca and the rest of the squad. And I can’t wait to read each of their individual stories!

The Ones Who Got Away is a great way to start the year, renewing and reviving your faith in finding your one true love. It was a great way to end my year, of course, seeing as I read an ARC but it goes on sale January 2!! So it’s a great year-starter (is there such a thing?). It’s a true and true romance with no other subplots which can be very refreshing if all you’re looking for it some pain to stab your heart and then a beautiful happily ever after. Finn and Liv are a match made in heaven; I can find no reason to hate The Ones Who Got Away and that’s why you should put it on your to-be-read lists!

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with an ARC copy in exchange for an honest review. This review edition may differ from the final edition.

#book review #the ones who got away #roni loren #contemporary romance #2018 publications #romance #contemporary #FourStars #arcreview #fire breathing bitch queue

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ki6-7-l8r · 7 years ago

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Errata.........

Don't recall when I was thrown into the world, does anyone? My first memory was in some kind of mansion where the sun filtered through a round stained glass window. A big man with a messy beard, wisping out like excremental cotton candy from his face stood over me. I saw a couple of fools, my parents looking up at me as I floated into the air. I was levitating, but the big fat Doktor just looked straight ahead, so ends this little wash of recall. I was around three years old in the house. I was at a neighbours house when a toy gun clipped my fingers and the metal took a chunk of skin out. I did not cry. The old neighbours; man and wife, laughed about how tough I was, and then giggled when I began to black out. For some reason I hated these people, I hurled a rock at their car when they were driving to go see a parade, put a big dent in the door. My mom spanked me so hard I saw my feet fly in the air. Sometimes I would walk around the neighbourhood and not remember leaving the house, ringing doorbells and running away. My Mom got tired of this and put me in preschool, sometimes sick, where I would barf until one of the teachers covered it up with sand. There was one teacher who was an evil looking woman with eyes like the demoness Lilith, Adam's first devil-wife. She and another woman gave me a ride home, but I don't remember ever getting home actually, I don't remember where I ended up on that ride. One day I was wandering around the neighborhood again, and I peeked through a mail-slot in a door and I saw a room with velvet red drapes. I saw an altar with an inverted pentagram, with candles which were not lit. The Chalice, The Bell, The Sword, I knew what these were but I had no words for them, I had somehow been in that house but I did not recall ever going there. Weird things happen when your only three, in some ways you are already old. I saw too the vast room filled with hooded figures! A giant Jackal-Headed statue black as night around 200 feet tall, was flanked by braziers wafting clouds of incense. Beneath the vast altar was a huge pit with low burning fires. The small sacrifices were hurled like soccer-balls; soaring through the air into the flaming pit. Pitiful cries and screams of torment were heard. In this way the forgotten ones of the maternity wards were given a manifest destiny. I was scared, but a priest told me that I "need not fear in that my hourglass had red sand." After my parents split up I ended up in a big house, bigger than the one before. I found crucifixes made out of wood and for some reason I liked to turn them upside-down and break them into peace signs, but the sides would not hold and would fall on the ground. I then found my sisters old barbies and scraped the boobs off of them against the wall so they would be flat chested. I was around 8 years old when this happened. When I was nine I developed a craving for wanting to drink human blood. My friends would cut themselves and let me drink their blood. Their parents found out about this and called my folks, and my folks were alarmed by this disturbed behavior. They took me back to the Doktor with the wispy beard that looked like cotton candy made out of shit. The Doktor told my parents that their was nothing wrong with me, just going through a weird phase. This Doktor pretended to talk with a German accent, but I knew he was faking!! He knew that I knew, and gave me a mean look. He had dead eyes. I was a teenager and an occult shop opened up where I lived. It was run by a real fortunate son, he seemed very fortunate which was strange in that the shop was not doing that well. I started doing a lot of acid in those days, and would practice black magick rites in the makeshift temple in the back. Once I did a ceremony to summon the 7 Crown Princes of Hell. Only Belial showed up, he materialized in the incense outside of the magic circle. He gave me two visions: The first one was of a witch cackling and stirring a giant cauldron, on a very dark night. The second was of a naked man taking in a giant beam of celestial fire; drinking it into his face, with his arms outstretched and his legs parted in a standing embrace. I still don't know what this signified. At the occult shop one day I also met a company man. I was 26 and it was a very bad year. Too much debauchery had caught up with me, as well as other things. I spent some time in nuthouse, but a nice shrink helped me recover. He gave me Dilantin and Centrax at the same time, it kept me in a mellow mood. After I got outta stir I moved in with a very weird madlady who indeed was legion. She was a lot of people in one person, and I did not like any of them and they did not like me. Except for two exceptions: I liked the little kid that came out as her sometimes, and the old medicine woman. The little girl told me all about the company, and how they like to turn one person into a whole bunch of people; and tell them to do things with the same body. Its a hobby of theirs, a game, maybe even a joke, but its a killing joke. I thought the story she told me was about as daft as a flying doughnut. After awhile I believed it but she was such a bitch I could not stand her and moved out. I did not care about all the spy stories, or politics at all. I was an occultist! She said she knew more about the Occult than I did. She was lying. The last thing she said was this: "Your just like all the bad people, because you think that life is meaningless!" Whatever. I was 31, and I met up again with the fortunate son in VEGAZ; another cult scene, but not too hairy. He was a big dip-waffle who tried to use me and did. But he needed me, as he was in the market for a MAGUZ. No modesty is not one of my traits. I cannot afford to let it be, due to the fact that I am a collossal failure. I learned to put myself in really great trance states and bring down demons into my body. I could still maintain control though, and could kick them out at any time. We called down voodoo loa, devils and demons as cute as the conqueror worm. We hurled astral shit through the vortex; flinging it at the enemies of the fortunate son. One of his enemies succumbed to the sorcery; a woman had an asthma attack and died. The enemy coven thought that our magick did this, and the girl's mother called the fortunate one and cursed him on the phone. The fortunate one got freaked out and sent flowers to her funeral, thus denying that he cursed her and denying the devils that slew a-one in his name. Like Peter denying the Savior the curse rebounded on Fortuno's head and his life turned into shit. I got sick of him using me, so I cursed him as well. I would drink bottles of rum and evoke the Petro Loa and dance around the altar, flinging hateful laughter and raging curses upon his worthless ass. It seemed to make things worse for him which delighted me. At this time too I met this guy who was a big fat liar who said his uncle invented Ritz crackers. He said he was related to a big-band leader with a big beat. He told me that he was levitated high up over the ocean and floated into a cave on a summit of the Na Pali Coast in Kwaii. When he got floated into the cave he met a Kahuna Shaman who instructed him in the delicacies of Sumerian Sorcery. This guy's mind was as fried-out as a toasted jaybird in a torched forest. And damn it, he made friends with another one of those people who was a bunch of people in one body! A girl who was a martial arts and weapons expert, on top of everything else! She knew about the fat liar's uncle and his big beat band: "Booker M.K. & The Ultras." One day she was flipping out and Fatso panicked and brought me down there. I told her that a mandala was one image, yet it had many facets, many in one, and one in many was still one. Finally she mellowed out. I was really scared, because she had a black belt in Karate and was a weapons expert, I on the other hand was a wuss who had only shot a B.B. gun at age 12. She was real nice to me and said that she would protect me from enemies, but Fatso got between us and kept her away. At that time I was just getting through day by day, and did not care. Although I did once bring down spirits that came through my body and cracked the inside of a crystal that I held in my hands. So goes it. Amused and bemused; this story is a tragedy in a laugh, and a laugh with a crying face. I found out later that Doktor Shit-Beard ate some Uranium 235 and bought the farm; ded of cancer. That's the funny part, so you can laugh now!! But you know, when the Romans sacked Jerusalem and routed the Second Temple in Palestine, they killed a lot of Hebrews and impaled babies on their swords. But the thing is, is that this has never stopped. There are many walking wounded amongst you, who are locked in gulags with invisible walls, tormented by translucent tech. hands, mocked by unseen voices. There are mindless masses and complicit Doktors who will just call all this madness. Perhaps this is why I thanked God, when I had that dream about the world being destroyed by nuclear weapons. I got out my last praise indeed; right at the moment where I lost all my atoms.

http://www.my-journal.com/jrn/md__1/jrn__24539/dt__1473750000

Welcome us nearly, inside soft floors of music. Through dope-heads dark recovered, through isles of the twisted.

Within Theatres of Perdition, we will sojourn after, to greet the dancing incubus, admire strange relations.

Unearth the Corpse of Incest Death, so we can have a festival. Weep silent pagan forests, and blaspheme all the saviours.

Let us dance around the Mayfires, and ride the maddened vine, climb secret goddess mountains, and drink the horn’ed wine.

Let’s dig up all the graveyards, reclaim relics of the doomed, assemble laughing, sacred skeletons, build temples to the Moon.

Let us know nocturnal days, lost transparent hours, sleep magic silver waves, encompass nights of flowers.

Let us weep the winsome madness, of those beyond the realms, of Space’s indifferent irony, that Time’s chalice overwhelms.

To pour primeval vision, upon partakers of the strange, who consume the droughts of clarity, the gods have doth deranged.

Let’s speak of the unspeakable, say wild atrocious things, let’s talk of God’s own truth, and the falsehood that it brings.

A Creator that’s a Liar? The Whole that is a sham? We’ll leave the dead to sleeping, the living remain Damned!

#darkart #mkultra #hypnosis #occultism #darkwave #nordic black metal #poets on tumblr #acid fascism #nihilism #horror

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mysticwxllow-blog · 7 years ago

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svadobne fotky 2015

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This is not to convey other photography lovers won't or can't carry out a very good career; it simply factors that because this is this type of significant job, you'd want a expert. (Bear in mind top above). 4. THEY DON'T GET In Addition To The Wedding photographer **Consider This Even Though You DON'T REMEMBER Whatever Else (Typically Disregarded BY MOST Bride-to-be AND GROOMS) When you have determined the shooter(s) you are looking for (by their work and also the examples they reveal to you) you will need to now think about true day time and ways in which close you can be using the services of this personal. The character from the digital photographer ought to go with you and the bash. Hello, do you such as guy? It may well sound form of proven and ridiculous to get so much excess weight within this, but if you have in no way worked well carefully having a photographer for almost any length of time (the majority of people haven't), you'll easily learn otherwise. If you like their function but don't truly "gel" with these, forget about it. Decide on some other person. Should you be not confident with who you work with, you will not be comfortable as soon as the pics are undertaken and so, you will not obtain the best pictures. Why take a chance? It is not necessarily worthwhile. You might be welcoming this person into one of the most personal and unique days and nights of your life. They will likely see (and appropriately record) some of the most sensitive and unique, instances in your life. They will glimpse in the innermost aspect in your life. You might experience more comfortable with someone that suits you and trust and find more effective images for doing this. Ideally upon having proven a comfortable sensation and partnership along with them, you will get the ability to spend an afternoon understanding them a bit before the special day. Most photography addicts well worth their sodium will also insist upon understanding you before hand. You are going to trust he or she(s) using an occasion that may be so special, the photos and sentiments will last for a long time. Wonderful wedding photography enthusiasts will quickly realize stuff, do things and observe things which typical photographers will regularly pass up. In the event the photographer is not in sync with you and the bridegroom, he will most likely overlook the shots that will make the primary difference. Bear in mind you need a professional photographer that will capture "the exclusive occasions". You will find no "excellent" shots, only "perfect' instances. Significant Be aware: Locate a digital photographer who specializes in weddings only. This may not be to state other photographers won't or can't do a fantastic career; it just causes that as this is this kind of critical work, you'd require a professional. **Most brides to be are more joyful if they choose their intuition and intuition with this just one. 5. THEY Think THE Wedding photographer Can See Mind Once you have established that you are compatible with the wedding photographer and happy with his kind of operate and are also thrilled to discover him (or her) do their magical! Ensure that you sit down along with the professional photographer and permit them to in on who may be coming and who may be critical and whom you want in. Most experts can certainly make a reason for this process. You wouldn't wish to have a gung-ho professional photographer who may possibly be aware of the bridegroom along with his loved ones and end up having plenty of photos of these and only some of your respective loved ones. (OUCH). Ensure that they understand who is returning. When picking your personal style ensure that you all determine what can happen and once. You should hate to arrive at the conclusion and learn that no proper photos ended up used of loved ones (your 90 yr old grandmother provided), only to find out that your photographer "hardly ever or by no means" requires standard photographs, when that's what you desire...... Try to remember: a). Don't assume something. b). Focus on what you would like and what your expectations are. c). If you wish it integrated, require it! (Typically wise to speak about it before hand, when possible). Discuss the the right time with the wedding event, when everything starts out, when every single function is scheduled to start out and conclusion. Which include who will almost certainly just where then when. If Aunt Susie is only going to be at the marriage ceremony instead of the wedding reception, you need to allow the wedding photographer know, so that she can be integrated (if it is exactly what you would like) Question just how long the wedding photographer is considering remaining (sadly some packages only incorporate so many hours) That's not how I think it must be carried out, that doesn't help it become negative or great, simply be conscious, and that means you get what you desire. Every person will likely be more joyful should they be on the same web site in terms of what to prepare for so when. Learn how lengthy is regular as soon as the wedding ceremony to see proofs and expect an album or DVD or whatever it is you might have arranged. Connection is important - DON'T BE AFRAID TO ASK Queries AT ANY Level From The Course of action

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