#your grace in making a reappearance in my mind reading that last comment

[koushuwu]

@superbattrash

[p---ink]

Teach Me.

Author’s Note: So. I finally made a Peter Parker Fiction. And I know the gif is Arvin Russell, but that is for a reason, and maybe you'll see it, maybe you won't, BUT TELL ME IF YOU DO. So this is an unnamed OC fiction, but its mostly reader insert, aside from the fact that she’s black (surprise, surprise) and she has brown eyes. I made her an “OC” because of that fact. Also, get ready for some fluffy head cannons of Peter P. In the not-so-distant future though. 

Summary: Maybe Peter Parker, isn't as innocent as he seems. 

Warnings: Smut. Smut. and more Smut. Car-smut. Dark-ish Peter (Not really, but he’s not his usual wholesome self) 

Song: Star-gazing by The Neighborhood. I literally based this entire fiction on this one song. Even if you don’t read the fic, you should listen to it. 

Word Count: 5.5k

“If you don’t mind me asking,” She started, pausing a bit to give him time to look up at her, “ who brings a textbook to a frat party?”

His heart stopped for a moment when he realized who was speaking to him. But then he matched her grin shyly and replied, “It’s more of a conversation starter than anything.” 

“Would you say its been working well?”

“I did somehow manage to get someone as pretty as you to speak to me.” 

The smile that was already plastered on her face, grew wider along with her eyes and brows. “Wow Parker: Who knew you could be so bold after a few drinks?

“I’ve only had one, so the rest is all me.” He closed his book and readjusted his leg inviting her to sit. Then as if just realizing, he asked, “You know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are. We went to Midtown together.” She said, getting comfortable on the couch. 

“Yeah I know. But we barely spoke to each other. Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I existed.”

“I always kept tabs on cuties like you. Especially you, actually.” She declared. 

“And you call me bold.” He muttered under his breath, a small blush creeping up.

“I’m always like this. Anyone who knows me, can tell you that. But anyone who knows you, would say the opposite. You were always so good.” 

“Good?”

“Yes! Good. Innocent. Nice. Whatever floats your boat.”

“And I remember you being, bossy, assertive, and intimidating.”

She threw her head back in laughter before stating,“You say that like its a bad thing.” Coming down from her fits of giggles she adds, “You noticed me, too? Never thought I was on your radar.”

“How could anyone not notice you.” He asked. “We had English together our freshman year. First day of class, you challenged Mr. Frechowsky, for inflicting his political views on the rest of the class. He got so red in the face, after yelling at you for three minutes straight, but everyone was more shocked at you for being unfazed.”

“I forgot abou-”

“Sophomore year, you “accidentally” tripped Amy Shuemacker,  after she made a rude comment about Ned’s weight. Junior year, you announced that you wanted to be not only the first female president, but the first who was black too. I remember telling myself you’d have my vote. Senior year, you almost had a mental breakdown when it looked like Michelle Obama was gonna run.” Peter finished, with not a hint that he was out of breath. 

“I-” She was more than taken aback. “I’m embarrassed that you remember all of that. Its been like four years since we graduated. Frankly any other person would have forgotten.”

“I think its impossible for anyone who’s met you, to forget the day they did.” He admitted to her. 

She just stared at him in awe for a moment. Mouth slightly agape from surprise. A shadow of a smile ever so present. 

Even though he was the one to say it, it was his face that turned a tinge pinker than before when he realized the weight behind his words. He swallowed thickly, averting his attention to the patterns that lined the carpet, fearing that he made her uncomfortable. In all honesty, he used to have a proper crush on the girl, rivaled by even Romeo’s adoration for Juliet.

This was the same girl he once described as ethereal. He once told Ned that fairies wove the strands of her hair, and butterflies still lived there, claiming that he saw them playing beneath her braids. The sun literally lived under her skin, and it was the secret as to why it would glow, and why her smile was so bright. He would swear to anyone that listened, that the harp was made with her voice in mind, and that it, her voice, played a better melody. He used to be lovestruck. Guess those feelings still lingered. 

If you asked him, two minutes ago had he gotten over it, his answer would’ve been yes. Would’ve been. 

His sudden fluster—which she found adorable by the way, broke her from her trance as she grinned and said “Don’t act bashful now!” playfully shoving his arm as she uttered the words. 

Quickly recovering from his earlier hiccup, he slowly returned her grin and tried to retaliate but before he could, “We have to go. Now.”

They looked up to see an irritated looking preppy girl impatiently scowling down at them. She couldn’t have been much older than 21, but no one told that to her clothes and aura. Her olive skin couldn’t hide the frown lines that had been assigned to her, nor the bags that would put a raccoon to shame. Besides the current circumstances that she would tell them in the next minute, Peter could tell on his own that the girl needed a date with sleep. 

“What’s the matter Li? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, aside from the fact that Angie locked herself out of the apartment again.” She said sarcastically, muttering this last part under her breath “I swear I’ve had it with that girl.”

“Ah I see. Well then we better get going.” The girl affirmed, standing from her seat, making Peter rise from his. “Peter it was so nice seeing you. I hate to leave, I would’ve enjoyed catching up a bit more.” She said, turning to grab her coat. 

“Well then we should catch up soon.”

She turned to nod her head, seemingly interested in his suggestion. “I’d love that. When did you have in mind?”

“How about now? if its a ride you’re looking for, I can drive you home.” Peter’s inner sixteen year old self, screamed at this opportunity. Time alone, with his four-year crush? He couldn’t not take advantage of the moment. 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s all the way on the other side of town.” She informed him. 

“But you’re not asking me to do it. I’m offering, because, ‘ya know; I haven’t seen you in a while and I’d like to catch up, too.” He said, second-guessing himself and praying that he didn’t come on too strong. “Ya know. Only if you want to.” He added just in case. 

Taking too much time debating whether or not she should say yes, the girl’s friend did it for her.  “Sounds great! I’ll see you at home.” Spinning on her heels,  and walking out of the door.

“Well.” The girl started, smiling at her old schoolmate. “I guess that settles it.”

“Shit!” He cursed, killing the engine completely, and slamming his head back on the headrest. After a couple minutes of trying to get it to start, the boy gave up like his car did.

It had been a full three hours since  Alisha left the party. The time was spent competing about who could find out more about the other. He learned that she still had a thirst for changing the world and community around her. She learned that the boy had been bitten by a radioactive spider and was now New York’s most friendly vigilante. She never knew that Peter could be so hilarious. 

They were stranded on some back road, miles away from civilization, with rain coming down on the roof of the car like they owed it money.

“Peter, what did you expect?” She began to question, giggling as she spoke. “This car is so old, Fred Flintstone has a newer model.”

“Hey!” He cried, “Don’t badmouth Karen. She just needs a little work.”

“You mean a lot of work. Karen is ancient.”

“She’s been good to me.”

“Should I call Triple A?” She asked, ignoring his dramatics. “The rain will probably let up by the time they get here.”

“I’ve got this.” He sighed, readying himself to leave the car. “Besides, triple A doesn’t know Karen like I do. They won’t be able to give her the love and patience she deserves” He explained, the car’s rickety door sounding as he disappeared into the rain. 

She heard that same distinct sound not ten seconds later, as he reappeared, soaking wet from the rain’s onslaught. His white t-shirt clung to his body, while beads of water raced down his skin. His messy locks, traded their dark brown hue for a jet black one, and his dirty converses shone a little brighter than they did before he left the car. 

“Maybe that wasn’t the best idea.” He admitted, the leather making a squelching noise as he glued himself back to his previous seat. 

“The offer for triple A still stands.”

“No. I’ll let this play out. But maybe I can call you an Uber.”

“There’s no way I’m leaving you out here all alone. We’ll let this play out.”

“But this may take a while.”

“I’m the reason you’re out here in the first place. And I like your company, so i’ll stay.”

Peter knew he couldn’t argue with that one, so he let silence befall the two of them. It stayed like that for a moment. It wasn’t quite awkward, but it was definitely palpable. 

She thought to say something, he did the same, but neither could quite let their words come to life. It was unlike the girl he knew before, who said the first thing that came to mind. Unlike himself, who did the same, but in a less graceful way. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of deafening quiet, Peter begins with, “How long have you and Brad been a thing?” The question fresh on his mind, since her phone rang yet again, with his ugly mug lighting up the screen. It was the fourth time she ignored the notification. 

It was rare for Peter to hate a person. In fact he didn’t hate many at all. But there was something about Brad that always made his stomach clench. Didn’t help that he was sniffing around his girl. 

“Hmm.” She pondered, tapping her chin with her index finger. Acting as if she was carefully thinking about it.“For about for-never and a day” She finally answered.

“Oh I thought, that since—“ Peter stammered, growing embarrassed by his assumption, and the disdain that coated his words.

“Anyone would have, with him blowing my phone up.” She sighed. “But alas, nothing will ever come of us. No matter how much he wants it to. Wish he’d take a hint.”

Back to silence. But this time it didn’t consume Peter. It gave him a bit of hope, enough hope to ask her his next question. 

“Back at the party,” he started before pausing, which prompted her to question, yes, before he could properly collect his nerve to ask her what he wanted. 

“Back at the party, you mentioned you always kept tabs on me. Especially me. What did you mean by that?”

“I may have had a small crush on you.” She answered without missing a beat. This of course took him by surprise, but not for long. 

“Why did you never act on it?”

“Because I quickly realized you weren’t my type.” She said as if it was nothing in the world.

“Ouch. What did I do to make you realize that?” Peter asked. Though his tone was light-hearted, he tried not to let on that he was hurt. 

“Nothing.” She replied. “You were just yourself. Peter Parker, the innocent good boy who would never harm a fly.”

Peter thought to himself for a moment. He thought long and hard before he decided to bring up the word she had uttered more than once tonight. “There goes that word again: innocent. What makes you think I’m innocent?”

“Come on Parker. Ned told me you once donated a one hundred dollar bill you found lying on the sidewalk to the local homeless shelter. And that was after you couldn’t find its original owner. That’s got innocence written all over it.”

“Does that make me innocent or a good person?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“There is a big difference between the two.”

“I disagree. The two are definitely interchangeable. Good people are the ones who haven’t been corrupted yet.”

“So does that mean you aren’t a good person?”

“I think I’m a neutral person. Not exactly good, not exactly bad. Just walking the tightrope. I probably would have taken the money, and felt bad about it later.”

They both chuckled at her statement, letting it end that segment of the conversation. Though Peter was done fighting with her about her type’s moral compass, he wasn’t done with the subject all together.

“So,” He paused, and she braced herself, taking notice of how every time he did that, a question she was reluctant to answer followed. “what exactly is your type?”

An uncomfortable breathy laugh passed through her lips as she answered. “I didn’t exactly know it at the time, but I’m able to put it into words now.” She admitted, taking her time as she explained. 

“I guess ideally you were my type. Nice. Harmless. Smart. But I was also looking for someone who knew how to take control. I’m in control of everything in my life, so it feels good to meet a person who lets me relinquish that. Or in more crude terms, a person who has the ability to fuck my brains out.” She declared as she leered in his direction with a small smirk playing her lips. 

She was only teasing. But she could feel that the air had grown thick on the side of the car that Peter had resided in. For a split second, she could have sworn that she saw something snap in him. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, making her feel as though she had imagined the entire thing. 

But she knew that couldn’t have been right. Known for many things, her vivid imagination wasn’t one of them. His breath hitched. His shoulders tensed. She hadn’t imagined that. What he said next, after what felt like an hour of silence told her that she didn’t imagine anything at all. 

“Did teaching me, ever cross your mind?” He asked. His grip on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white. She saw his Adam’s apple bob after he spoke, and his chestnut eyes focused on the rain that splattered against the windshield. 

“U-um I-,” She stammered, Peter catching her by surprise. She had to really think about his question. “I suppose it never did.”

“You still want me?” He asked her, turning his attention back on her. 

“Huh?”

“Am I still your type? Aside from the fact that I can’t take control?” 

She just swallows, before nodding.

Noting her surprise, but not relenting he says, “Then teach me.”

“What?” She questions, fearing she misheard him. 

“Teach me.” He repeated, only elaborating when she scrutinized his face. “Show me exactly how you want to be touched. Kissed. Fucked.”

The way he said the word, fuck, was so filthy. It almost made her lose the rest of her composure. Not like she had much left. He had already rendered her speechless, now he was ruining her panties.

No. She wouldn’t let it play out like this. She had a reputation to uphold.

She peered over her shoulder, then back to him trying to assess whether or not he was serious. When his face showed no sign of amusement, she swung her door open, to trade her passenger’s seat for the back one. 

The rain’s onslaught was still vicious, so her previously dry form was borderline drenched. July’s summer heat, did no favors in keeping her warm, and she had no idea if she was shivering from the rain or her nerves. “Are you gonna come keep me warm or what?” She challenged, trying to find her confidence again.  

It was only seconds before Peter joined her, but it was no question that his body was shaking with anticipation. He looked at her expectantly, surveying her every move. From the way her eyes flitted to the ground, to the way her hands busied themselves by rubbing at her thighs. She was nervous. 

It must have been a snowy day in hell.

“What should we do first?” She asked. 

“Does the instructor usually ask the pupil what lessons they should start with?”

“Kiss me?” She suggested, half-ignoring his comment. 

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Peter remarked, amusement glinting in his eyes. 

Annoyance overtaking her tone now, she demands this time, “Kiss me.” 

“Say please.” He teased. 

“Damn it Peter, fucking kiss m—”

And then he glued his lips to hers. They were sweet and gentle, like him, but still managed to convey his longing. He hoped the kiss would capture all the times he imagined doing it when she would flash those pretty brown eyes his way. When she would speak in a way that put an angel’s timbre to shame. Even when she would fucking breathe, he imagined kissing her until his lips fell off. He hoped the kiss would make up for all of the ones he was dying to share with her over the years.

The pads of his fingers roamed over her silky smooth skin, starting at her cheeks, ending at her neckline. He tasted the flavor of her strawberry chapstick, the same one that made her lips feel and look as smooth as butter. When he inhaled and tasted the faint scent of minty watermelon on her breath, he decided he couldn’t get enough. He wanted to kiss her until he committed to memory every bump on her tongue. Then he would be satisfied. 

“Like this?” He whispered, pulling back to inhale the same air as her, almost turning feral at the sight of her swollen lips and blown pupils. “Or,” he started, leaning back in to go again, searching her eyes, “like this?”

Whereas kiss one was innocent and sweet, the way that Peter portrays himself, kiss two was the definition of what he could be…or maybe what he already was, she couldn’t tell. He was filthy with the way his tongue glided against hers. The hot wet muscle played hers like an instrument, before locking the two together. One of his hands planted itself on the nape of her neck, forcing her to feel every measure against her mouth. She couldn’t move if she wanted to, not that she wanted to. Just like him she wanted to relish the taste of him. 

With his nose pressed against her cheek, and hers against his, they kissed like they wanted to touch the other’s souls. They began breathing in the rest of the other’s air, like they wanted to swap lungs. Exploring the other’s bodies, like they would die if they didn’t study the exact texture of the other’s skin. 

It took everything in Peter to restrain himself. To keep his thumbs from traveling beneath her shirt. He nipped at his tongue to keep from nipping at her lips and skin. He tried shifting in his seat to distract himself from the shifting going on in his jeans. 

It certainly didn’t help the growing tent in his pants when the girl planted her thighs on either side of his, rocking and rolling her hips to alleviate some of the tension in her panties. 

She took over the kiss, setting the pace and overcoming the surprise from Peter earlier.

Her fingers, that were previously glued to his face, began fumbling with the hem of his shirt, peeling the wet material off and over his head. She marveled at his sculpted chest for a moment, before Peter followed suit, pulling her dampened top over her arms and flinging it over the seat. 

A throaty groan passed his lips when she resumed her measures against his hips. Grinding herself down on his hardening member. 

Her breathy whimpers intensified when his surprisingly warm hands traveled along her skin, caressing her soft flesh. She was getting more worked up the more Peter mimicked the movement of her hips, grinding upwards while simultaneously pinning her waist down. 

She tugged harshly on the patch of hair that lived on the back of his neck, eliciting one of the sexiest groans she had ever heard. His heavily lidded eyes that held the same fire as hers, both scared and excited her. 

As she leaned in closely, preparing her words carefully she ordered him to, “Kiss me here,” before planting her lips on his neck. Flattening her tongue to lick a stripe up the exposed skin, she began swirling the appendage before nipping, licking, and sucking until his skin had a reddish purple hue. 

She got lost in the feel of him, succumbing to the sound of his hisses and moans only to yelp a moment later, when Peter mimicked her earlier actions.

With a fistful of her hair, and her exposed neck jutting out towards his lips he licked a stripe against the skin, just as she did earlier, only his measures were steady and calculated, taking note of every flinch and hitch of her breath. He found her sweet spot in seconds, focusing all of his attention there. 

With her nails digging into his flesh, and her hips stuttering, Peter knew he had her where he wanted her. “Like that?” He rasped, pulling away to admire the strings of purple and blue that littered her skin. 

“Fuck yea Parker; you learn fast.” She gasped, attempting at a laugh, as she peeled her chest off of him.  She took a hand of his into hers, grasping two of his fingers as she bought them to her lips. 

Hollowing her cheeks as she sensually sucked and lubricated his digits, she bought his other hand down to her shorts, beckoning him to unbutton them. “Touch me here.” She murmured, eyes taking in the wide curious ones staring back at her. 

With the newly slick fingers, Peter did as she told him, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and finding her nub instantaneously. “Right here?” He enquired, when her breathing turned shaky. 

“Mmm, god yes!” She praised, as he worked his fingers over her. 

Setting a consistent pace, Peter lightly grazed her clit, every time he ran his fingers up and down her folds. “Am I doing this right?” He questioned, flicking and teasing her core. 

“Mhm” She mewled, “fuck y-your fingers feel so good” Her speech was now becoming slightly incoherent.

“Yeah?” He groaned, “What about my mouth?” He asked, just before unclasping her bra a little too effortlessly with one hand. Latching his lips against her perky chest, he massaged the other mound with his free hand.  

Words were lost on her, as she became a wanton mess. She couldn’t fathom how he could be so skillful with both hands. How a person could multitask the way that he did was indescribable. His hand on her clit didn’t let up, but neither did the one that tweaked and pulled on her nipple. Not to mention the hot tongue that darted and sucked meticulously at her other. She couldn’t stifle her cries if she tried. 

Riding his fingers, she pressed his head further into her chest,  becoming greedy with his touch, as she sprinted towards her orgasm. She thought that this feeling couldn’t get any better. 

Of course, Peter was full of nothing but surprises tonight, and needed to prove her wrong. He let two of his fingers slip inside of her, while a thumb replaced the ones that were glued to her clit. Rubbing circles against her sex, he pumped the two fingers furiously in and out of her hole. 

“Does that feel good, baby?”

But the girl didn’t answer, Her mouth hung open as if she wanted to, but the words were jumbled somewhere in her throat. Her face twisted into pleasure, and she couldn’t do anything but succumb to his measures against her body.

It wasn’t long before she felt her stomach spasming, the heat pooling to her core, her already sensitive flower growing even more sensitive, as she came into his palm. 

Her juices coated his digits, her walls fluttered around them, and her skin was now hot to the touch, as Peter forced her climax out of her. 

Tears flooded her eyes, as she took in as much air as she could. When had she stopped breathing? Maybe sometime during the earth-shattering orgasm her old classmate was giving her. 

Once the ringing in her ears subsided, and her lower region began to cool again, she thanked the boy and praised him as she said, “You did so well,” before planting hot wet kisses on his shoulder and neck.

She stopped when she felt his body shaking. Coming back up to eye him, she asked what he found so funny. 

Peter tried to hide the smirk that plastered his lips but he couldn’t hold his act any longer. “You just don’t get it do you?” He asks as he casually licks and sucks at his fingers, just as she did earlier, relishing in the taste of her essence. 

The confusion on her face and brain was evident. “Get wha—” He had her pinned on her back, before she could utter the last syllable.

The tight space was cramped, but the boy had more than enough room to stalk his prey. He hovered above her, ridding her of the rest of her clothes in one fell swoop, before delivering his monologue. 

“I don’t know what it is about girls like you, but I swear you drive me crazy.” He admitted, before removing his jeans in a quick motion. “You always assume that just because I’m a nice guy, I won’t be able to fuck your brains out.” He informed, before revealing a hidden condom and rolling it on before lining himself up at her entrance. “But I hope that if tonight proves anything to you,” He starts, eyes finally darting up to land on her horror-filled ones, “it will be that your mindset can land you in a whole heap of trouble.”

And with that, he grasps the door above her head, before sinking himself into her.

Groaning at the feel of her, Peter’s facade dropped completely. Her tight little cunt feels even better than he imagined, and he hopes that he feels better than she ever imagined. 

He starts slow, with the intent of her feeling every ridge of his cock, as it threatens to invade her stomach. Her soft tits bouncing with every thrust, send a jolt through his body every time her nipples graze his chest. The way his name falls off her sweet tongue, has him in shambles, as he picks up his pace, throwing slow and steady out of the window. 

Her cries are loud in his ear, as he ruts against her sex. He’s so thick, its hard for her to think straight. He can feel the indents of her nails as they dig into his lower back; she tries to press his ass closer to her, never wanting him to leave.

Maybe if it were any other guy fucking her, she would have felt the seat buckle digging into her back. Maybe she would have felt her sticky sweaty skin on the leather of his back seat. Maybe the awkward position her head was in would have spoiled her experience. But with Peter, she could only focus on the pleasure. 

His thrusts were relentless now. His hot breath was fanning the side of her cheeks. His previously damp hair, stuck to her neck, as he drove himself further into her skin. Nothing could distract him away from her in this moment.

Nothing but the faint glow of her phone, that is. It’s buzzing, and vibrations immediately catching his eye, as he held his head up. That same dangerous smirk that she saw earlier returning. 

“Look who’s calling, baby.” He purred, overcoming the stutter of his hips. When he held her phone up for her to see, her heart sank at the mischief behind his words. Brad. “Should we answer it?”

“No, Pete!” She cried. 

“Oh come on, that would be rude wouldn’t it?” He dared, before delivering a particularly hard thrust, that sent her mind into a haze. “We can stop so you can take this—”

“No! D-don’t stop” She begged, prying the phone from his fingers, and fumbling with the answer button. 

“Babe? Hello?” Brad’s irritating voice answered flooding, her phone’s speaker. But the girl didn’t answer immediately, because she was too busy trying to stifle her whimpers. 

“Hey Brad!” She finally choked out, sounding somewhat normal. How she managed to do it, she couldn’t say. 

“Wow! Finally. This is like my eighth time trying you. I almost can’t believe you answered. What are you up to?”

“Should you tell him what you’re up to, babe?” Peter devilishly whispered against her skin.

“Nothing!” She whined into the phone. 

“Whoa. Are you okay? You sound a little off?”

“You should tell him you sound like this because I’m making you feel so good.” Peter suggested, driving her body up and down the seats. “I bet he’d wish he were me right now.”

“I-I’m just a feeling a l-li-little sick is all.” She breathlessly stuttered.

“Should I come over?”

“Ah yes Peter!” She wailed, when the boy starts circling his fingers against her clit, while simultaneously grinding slowly but roughly into her. She’s no longer paying attention to the man on the other end. His curses don’t faze her, nor does Peter’s actions as he releases the phone from her grip. 

“Hey Brad. Remember me.” He casually asks, ignoring Brad’s threats. “Yeah no man, don’t worry about her: I’ll make sure she’s real good and taken care of.” He promises, before ending the call, and tossing the device into the passenger’s seat. “Think he finally got the hint?”

Peter then takes the girl’s hips into his hands, lifting her inches off the seat, before pulling her body onto his dick at an ungodly speed.

Crying. She’s literally crying, with tears streaming down her face. Her voice is becoming hoarse with moans. She had never experienced such intense sex in her life. 

Peter brings the hand that was previously plastered on the glass down to the girl’s face. “would this be the definition of fucking your brains out, baby?” He grunts, in reference to the girl’s constant repetition of his name. It’s the only word she can remember, as he fucks her into the chair. 

His movements shook the car. The heat that their bodies radiated, fogging up the glass. The scent of their sex now embedded in the fabric of his seats. The boy was completely untamed. 

Her screams were one among the things that set him off. The way her body writhed against his was another. The stutter in her speech another. But the unbridled lust that her eyes held, was the literal icing on the cake. 

Thank fuck she came before him. Her tight little hole constricting and clenching his dick. And when he started slipping in and out, her eyes glued shut, and her chest started to rise and fall, he knew that she had came. 

A sweaty fucked out mess before him, she needed Peter to finish her off before she was satisfied. “Drown me in your cum” She begged, and it was like he knew exactly what she wanted. 

Unsheathing himself from her, he ridded himself of the condom, and started tugging violently at his cock. Fucking his hand, not unlike the way he fucked her earlier, he spurted his milky white seed all over her supple brown canvas, a husky groan roaring from his chest as he threw his head back in pleasure. His seed extinguished the heat that resided in her skin, and she closed her eyes shut, letting her head fall back down on the seat. 

The image of his white paint, all over her stomach, chest, and tits, bleeding into his memory, as he came back down from his high. 

Once back down to earth, reality began to sink back in. Immediately recomposing himself, Peter blurted, “Fuck are you okay? Was I too rough?”

His sudden outburst almost made her jump out of her skin, but she quickly recovered. “Oh god no Parker! I loved every minute of that.” She lazily smiled reassuringly.  “Do you always fuck like that?”

Peter returned the smirk, blushing before saying, “I’ve always wanted to fuck you like that.” 

After planting a final kiss on her lips, he reached into the center console, to scavenge a few wet wipes, cleaning her skin before discarding them. 

Moments later, they reunited with their lost articles of clothes, pulling the fabrics over their limbs before crawling back into the front seat.

When Peter put his seatbelt back on, and cranked the car up with no effort, he felt the heat of the girl’s eyes on his skin. 

“What?” He asked, dumbfounded by her glare. 

“Was there ever anything wrong with the car?”

And then as if just realizing Peter mouthes oh, before telling her simply “No.” Adding on that he just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. 

“Well how the fuck did you know I wasn’t gonna just take your offer for an Uber?”  She asked, more impressed than pissed.

“Because you’re a neutral person, and a neutral person would feel too bad about doing that.”

“There’s a lot of things I still have to learn about you Parker.” She admits, sinking down into her seat. Heat rising to her cheeks, as a new crush began to develop. 

“Don’t worry. I’m willing to teach you.” 

 A/N: So like...don’t be afraid to tell me what you think. I swear I dont bite...unless you're into that. also this was edited it, but probably not well, so tell me if you see an error. 

[duxhess-kryzewan]

Obitine First Kiss?

- Drowning -

When they had first landed on Corellia, Obi-Wan was relieved to be somewhere that had plenty of fresh water. The last planet they had been hiding on was dry and dusty and even Satine - born and raised on a desert planet herself - had became sick of the terrain.

The novelty quickly wore off the longer they trekked through the jungle. The forestry was dense, the humidity unforgiving. Every breath he took came with the unsettling sensation of drowning on dry land.

Qui-Gon had left them the night before last, leaving Obi-Wan with coordinates on where to meet the following day. He had a contact - a long time ally - who resided on miles away from the forest they were hiding in. If all went according to plan, they would have a new and unrecognizable ship and a safe means off the planet. All he was tasked with was keeping Satine safe in the mean time.

He didn't like to read too much into why Qui-Gon was so keen on leaving them alone together.

"The sky looks like it'll be clear tonight." Satine comments as they move into a clearing.

"It' seems so," He says, "Let's just hope it stays that way."

Storms were frequent and often unpredictable. One minute the sun would be shining, only for the clouds to roll in mercilessly pelt the planet with rain.

"From desert to storm," She huffs, "I can't tell which is worse."

He observes her intently as she walks; how her damp hair clung to her neck, how she would periodically run the back of her hand across her brow line. He sympathized with her discomfort. The air felt sticky, the breeze heavy as it blew past them. Satine had long since abandoned her attempts at maintaining her regality. There was no point anymore. She had been with them long enough to know they wouldn't judge her in the slightest for slipping out of her Duchess façade, and the climate made it nearly impossible to look the part.

Not that it mattered much. Obi-Wan didn't think there was anything that could make her any less beautiful.

He tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. An irrevocable attachment to her was the last thing he needed.

"Can we stop for the evening?" She asks.

He marvels at the gentleness in her voice. Before, in the beginning weeks she had been placed under their protection, she had huffed and whined until he relented and gave into her requests. The near death experiences and friendship they managed to forge over the passing weeks had humbled her some, and gave him enough insight to realize she was more than just an entitled Duchess. He was grateful they had found a way to be more civil to one another.

“As you wish."

They were nearing one of the many lakes that covered the planet anyway; a more than ideal place to set up camp for the night. Fresh water was something neither of them took for granted after their stay in the desert.

When they stop Satine wastes no dropping to the ground and leaning back against one of the trees that surrounded them. Foliage was another thing they both had become more appreciative of recently. The cover of trees, the simple ability to rest against something other than the hot sand, even the always lingering dampness of the soil.

He busies himself looking around around for wood dry enough to start a fire. It was by no means necessary for warmth, but it would be there luck that the temperature would drop with the arrival of night time, and it wouldn't hurt to have a source of light. The stars might have been bright on Corellia, but he would be hard pressed to consider it enough illumination for them.

His mind had been so preoccupied on setting up camp that he hadn't even noticed Satine's absence until a splash broke through the silence.

"Satine?"

He turns just in time to see her disappear below the surface of the water, and for a fleeting moment panic floods through him. What if she can't swim? What if something was in the water? And why is she in the water in the first place?

The relief he feels when she reappears is almost insurmountable.

"What are you doing?" He half yells, trying his best not to let the worry in his voice show.

She grants him an amused smirk, and something about the sparkle in her eyes sends a warmth trough his chest, despite how hard he tries not to let it do so.

"Cooling off, Obi-Wan." She says matter-of-factly, "You may not mind being covered in sweat and grime after trekking through the jungle all day, but I refuse to stew in filth."

He has to repress the urge to laugh. Roughing it may have humbled the young Duchess, but there was always going to be a part of her that was prim and proper.

"I'm a bit more preoccupied with your safety than worrying about my personal hygiene."

He glances to the pile of discarded clothes at the waters edge and is grateful for cover twilight provided him. If Satine could see the blush that colored his cheeks at the thought of her undress she would never let him live it down.

Satine scoffs and swims closer to shore, "As if you have to choose one or the other. Honestly, Obi-Wan."

She was right, of course. He hated the stickiness from the humidity and sweat that clung to his skin, but it hadn't been at the top of his priority list.

"Priorities, Duchess."

She laughs lightly and disappears under the water again.

The fire he was attempting to start was a lost cause, he decided. There was too much moisture for a flame to start. As much as he didn't like it, they were going to have to fair out without one for now.

So he settles for laying out his cloak in the driest area he could find and depositing their items on top of it. Qui-Gon didn't leave them with much, but the few items they did have were more than essential to their survival the next few days.

Obi-Wan decides that, so long as she is content in the water, he'll sit along the lakes edge and meditate. It had been too long since he had a chance to do so, and this was he could keep an eye on her.

​He settles at the waters edge, lightsaber and top layer of his clothing discarded beside him. The muggy air proved to be a challenge when taking a deep breath, but the sounds of the water and quiet of the night soothed him.

That was, until an unexpected splash of cold water hit him.

He sprang to his feet, the sudden chill catching him off guard. Below him, he found Satine smiling mischievously, still partially submerged in the water.

"Have you lost your mind?" He manages to sputter out.

She laughs, "Don't act like it didn't feel good. You know as well as I do the temperature is less than favorable."

He glares at her, but there's something to her smile that almost makes him forgive her. Rarely over the course of their time together has he seen anything resembling genuine happiness grace her. For all of the things that drive him crazy about her - and there were many, many things - there were just as many that made him adore her in ways a Jedi certainly should not. Seeing her smile was one of them.

“I was meditating."

"You do that quite enough."

"Its an integral part of connecting with the force."

Satine rolls her eyes, "Yes, so you've reminded me many times."

They had managed to cultivate something close to a friendship during their time on the run. Qui-Gon had insisted that he try and get along with her, both for the sake of their mission and for the sake of the Duchess.

He's sure neither Qui-Gin or himself could have anticipated the less sudden feelings that would blossom between him and the Duchess. Feelings that most definitely went against the code.

It scared him that part of him didn't care.

"Swimming in a random lake on an unfamiliar planet doesn't seem very becoming of a Duchess," He counters with a smirk, "Especially one so preoccupied with appearances."

"Neither is being on the run with a Jedi, but I've had to learn to adapt with what's given to me."

Her smiles falters for a moment, and suddenly he's filled with guilt. He could feel her emotional struggle through the force; how much anxiety and guilt she carries for leaving her planet in the midst of a civil war.

"I'm sorry," He says, "I didn't mean to imply anything."

The smile returns. It's softer, more understanding, but there all the same. He likes to see it on her.

"Forgiven," She stands, the shallow end of the water only reaching her waist, "Though I would appreciate your assistance."

She reaches out a hand towards him, all while he tries his best to ignore the way her wet underlayer of clothing clings to her. He hopes the cover of nightfall masks his blush.

"As you wish, your grace."

He takes her hand in his, fingers gripping her smaller ones tighter than what was strictly necessary, and just as he goes to pull her up onto dry land she roughly yanks him towards her.

He topples into the water, barely managing to catch his balance before he was submerged completely.

"Satine!"

She backs up quickly into deeper water, swimming away from him with a newfound sense of urgency. It doesn't stop the laughter though, or the wide smile she wore. It was the first time he's seen her that amused, and if he wasn't so distracted by his sudden frustration he would marvel at just how beautiful happiness looks on her.

"Have you gone mad?"

Satine laughs some more, "Oh please, it's just water Obi-Wan. You're doing little more than bathing and cooling off. Master Qui-Gon wouldn't be too pleased if I was left alone because you suffered heat stroke."

It was pointless to argue that the temperature wasn't near hot enough for heat stroke to actually overtake him and, though he would never admit it, the cold water did make him feel a great deal better.

"I'm not much use as a protector while unarmed and in the water." He decides to counter with, though he knows its a weak point. If the situation suddenly became dangerous he would just as well protect her here as he would on dry land.

Satine doesn't answer him and instead disappears once again below the surface of the water. The sky was clear, but not even the planets stars could provide him enough light to see where she had vanished too.

He had grown accustomed to the many facets of her over their time together. There were versions of her he learned how to handle; from a stubborn Satine to a solemn one. A mischievous Satine however was uncharted territory, and he didn't know whether to fear her or be amused by her.

There's only inches separated them when she ascends out from under the water, and he quickly settles on terrified.

He's utterly terrified, because never has another person looked so beautiful to him as she did in that moment. Lips parted slightly, wide eyes staring back into his.

"Satine..." It's a warning, but he knows deep down his heart isn't really in it.

"Obi-Wan."

She's kissing him then. Gently; a ghost of a touch that he almost isn't convinced is real. Her lips are cold from the water, breath warm against his skin.

Before he can think better of it, his hand finds hers under the water, his other sliding up the slope of her neck and coming to cup her cheek.

"We shouldn't be doing this." He whispers against her.

Satine pauses for a brief moment, "No we shouldn't."

He wonders what it says about them that neither make a move to stop.

It crosses his mind what Qui-Gon would say if he found them like this; pressed together in shoulder deep water, disregarding the promises both of them made to their people and to themselves.

Her hand slide up the back of his head and tangles into his hair, her fingers grasping his Padawan braid tightly between them.

"We should stop." Satine says before kissing him hard with a newfound sense of urgency.

"We should." He agrees, kissing her back with just as much force.

Her legs suddenly wrap around his waist and it renders him breathless. The code was cracking around him with every passing second, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to stop kissing her.

It dawns on him then; that he has fallen irrevocably in love with Satine Kryze.

[fiveisnumber1]

Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 2860

Warnings: I’m sorry.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

_________________________

Pt 10 - Time Moves On (With Or Without You)

In the Hargreeves household, the day started out like any other one, with breakfast. With the ring of a bell, the uniformed children all filed in one line into the dining room and made their way to their seats. Quietly standing behind their chairs with their hands behind their backs they waited in silence for their father to arrive. Once he entered the room he stood behind his seat before commanding,

"Sit."

With that word the children pulled out their seats and sat at the table to eat, each of them quietly doing their own things. Luther and Allison exchanged small smiles to each other across the table, Diego secretly scratched a knife into the armrest of his chair, Klaus fiddled with some special paper under the table, Ben read a book by Anton Chekov and Vanya quietly ate her meal. There was one child who was having trouble keeping quiet on this day and that was Five. Although he had already done so much with his powers during missions and practice sessions he wanted to do more. He knew he could do more. Five wanted to time travel and it ate him up inside that his father wouldn't allow him. Instead of eating he stared down his father from the opposite end of the table. Anger and frustration building up inside him. When his anger boiled over he grabbed his knife and stabbed it into the table. The loud sound caused everyone to look at him.

"Number Five?" Reginald questioned

"I have a question." Five stated with contempt in his voice

The other children looked at their brother with concern and shock in their eyes.

"Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. No talking during meal times, you are interrupting Herr Carlson." Reginald replies

Unhappy with his father's response Five forcefully pushes his plate forward before saying,

"I want to time travel."

"No," Reginald says

"But I'm ready!" Five explains sitting up from his chair "I've been practicing my spacial jumps just like you said."

Five then jumps from his spot at the table to right next to his father's seat.

"See?" Five comments aggressively

"A spacial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel. One is like sliding along the ice the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn." Reginald explains

With his hands balled up in his pockets, he cocked his head to the side and angrily said,

"No, I don't get it,"

"Hence the reason you're not ready," Reginald replies

From down the table, Five can see Vanya shake her head no as if to tell him to stop pushing the issue.

"I'm not afraid." Five retorts to his father

"Fear isn't the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind are far too unpredictable. Now I forbid you to talk about this anymore." Reginald commands

Five couldn't believe what his father was saying. Ridiculous how he didn't believe that Five could do it. Five was going to time travel and was going to prove that old angry man wrong. Turning on his heel he runs away from the table leaving his father, Grace, and his siblings behind.

"Number Five. You can't leave the table you haven't been excused! Come back here!" Reginald yells

Five didn't care what the old man had to say though. All he cared about was proving he was ready to time travel. He ran out the front door and through the gates of the house in which he lived. Angrily walking down the street he was determined to jump through time. The one thing he didn't expect was you latching on to him. You had seen Five leave his house from out your living room window. You quickly called out to your mom telling her you were heading out before teleporting your molecules over to your friend and grabbing on to him. With a flash of blue, he had jumped through time and brought you along with him. You didn't notice though because you were too busy trying to get him attention.

"Five!" You called out as he walked for a little bit taking in the surroundings

"Not ready my ass." Five mumbles to himself

With another time jump, the two of you were in a winter scene.

"Five!" You called again

Five had heard you this time and stopped. Turning around he saw you holding onto him. You let go and took a step back.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Five yells

"I saw you leave your house from my window and you looked upset so I wanted to make sure you were okay." You reply 

"I'm fine." Five states

"You don't seem fine is there anything I can do?" You question concern evident in your tone

"You can go home." He answers

"But Five-" You start but are cut off

"You wouldn't fucking get it (Y/N)! Just leave me the hell alone!" Five yells

Before you can say anything he turns on his heel and jumps again leaving you standing there alone.

"Well screw you too I guess!" You yell at the spot where he just was

Turning around you make your way back to your house. Looking around you see the snow around you. You could've sworn there was no snow when you left and even if you just didn't notice it you wondered how you couldn't with the amount of snow on the ground. Shaking your head you make the walk back home wondering what could've gotten into your best friend. When you make it back to your house the door is locked. You were confused, your mom never leaves the door locked when you tell her you're going out. You start to knock on the door but when you get no response you start to bang on it and yell out,

"Mom? I'm home!"

When  you get no response you try again banging and calling louder,

"MOM! I'M HOME! IT'S COLD OUTSIDE LET ME IN!"

You were about to call again when you hear a voice behind you say,

"Whacha doing kid?"

When you turn around you see a garbage man putting trash in the back of the garbage truck for the houses around yours.

"I'm calling for my mom to let me in. My family lives here," you explain

"Yeah don't we all wish our family could live in that house." He replies with a scoff

"What? No, I do live here." You reply

"Yeah, and I'm the king of England. Nobody has lived in that house for eight years." The man replies

"What do you mean eight years, it's 2002." You state

"We're you banging on that door with your head? It's 2013." The man states "The family that lived there's kid went missing 11 years ago. They stayed in the house for three years but just up and left when they couldn't deal with the grief. Rumor has it they went off the grid and can't be found."

You look at him confused and he says,

"Whatever. It's not my business." 

He then gets on the back of the truck and you can faintly hear him say,

"Weird kid."

You turn back around to look at the door. That man had to be crazy, you had only left a few minutes ago, there was no way it was 2013. Phasing inside the door the room is dark but you call out to your parents again,

"Mom! Dad! I'm back home." 

You get no response. You make your way over to the light switch to try and get some light in the but they don't work. Maybe there's a power outage from the snow? You then open the living room curtains but when the light from outside shows in there's nothing there. The TV, the couches, the coffee table, nothing. The room was empty. 

"Mom? Where did the furniture go?" You call out again

All you heard was silence. You made the way around the rest of your house. Emptiness was everywhere. Running upstairs you went into your bedroom. Everything was there like it was when you had left that day. Bed, toys, clothes, everything still in its place. Maybe your parents were just redoing the whole house. You made your way to your parent's bedroom you started yelling,

"Mom! Dad! Please tell me you're in there!"

You were about to bang on the door with your fists but with one hit the door slowly swung open. There was nothing here. Their bed was gone, their clothes were gone, your parents were gone.

"No, this can't be real..."

Your heart started to race a little faster. Where could they have gone? You only left a few minutes ago. You needed answers and if there was anyone who could explain what was going on it was one of the Hargreeves. They had to know what had happened. Without even a second thought you transported yourself from your parent's bedroom to the foyer of the Hargreeves house. In a panic, you started shouting the names of the Hargreeves kids,

"Ben! Diego! Allison! Vanya! Klaus! Luther! Five! Anyone?"

Frantically you looked around the empty house when you heard a voice behind you say,

"Excuse me, can I help you."

You recognized that sweet soft voice. Turning around you saw Grace standing there. She looked shocked.

"(Y/N)? Is that you?" She asks

"Of course it's me! Who else would I be?" You question

Grace slowly makes her way over to you. Gently cupping your face she looks at you and says in awe,

"You look the exact same as when I last saw you."

"Well of course! You only saw me yesterday. This last hour has been so crazy. First I chased after Five and he told me to leave him alone, and then I went home and no one answered and some garbage man told me how nobody lives in my house and my house is empty and according to the garbage man, it's 2013. Ridiculous right? Where are the kids I need to ask them some questions."

"Oh no, sweetie..." She says with a sympathetic look in her eyes

Grace doesn't say anything else she just looks at you sadly. Your heart dropped. This couldn't be real.

"Grace please where are the kids?" You pleaded tears starting to form in your eyes

"Well- they uh- they're not here anymore." She replies softly

"No! That can't be true! None of this can be true!" You shout before running off

"(Y/N)!" Grace calls but it's too late because you had already run off

There was no way that they weren't here. You ran to the library, typically Ben or Vanya would be there but when you got there you found nothing. Diego to Klaus was usually in the kitchen but nobody was there either. Running towards the bedrooms you opened every door looking for your friends. You checked in the courtyard, the dining room, everywhere. Tears leaving a path of where you had been. Each one of them was empty, abandoned as if no one had lived there. You ran back downstairs to check the parlor but when you got in there it was empty as well. All that was there was a painting of your best friend hanging above the fireplace. You turned your head and saw Grace standing there silently.

"I'm so sorry (Y/N)" she whispered

Your heart raced faster. You couldn't believe it. You didn't want to believe it. You turned your head back to look at the painting of your friend. The realization of your situation had started to set in and your body started to shake. You collapsed to your knees unable to support the weight of your body anymore. It felt as if you had just been punched in the gut and all of your breath was taken away. The tears started to fall faster from your eyes as you screamed,

"NO!"

Your voice was filled with grief as you let out painful cries of immense sorrow. You wrapped your arms around yourself to stop your shaking but it was no use. You were barely able to breathe as you screamed your pain into the empty silence of the house. There was no other sound except for you and at that moment you knew that you were alone. Your family was gone, your friends were gone, the person who mattered most to you was gone. The pieces of your life had fallen apart and you didn't know how to get them back.

At the same moment when you were coming to the realization of your new existence so was Five. After he had told you to leave him alone he had jumped once more through time. He looked around him and saw nothing but fire and destruction. With fear coursing through his veins he turned back around and ran as fast as he could towards the Umbrella Academy. When he arrived at the destroyed remnants of the building he called out into the rubble,

"Vanya! Ben! Dad!"

He received no response from inside the building so he turned around and shouted,

"Anyone!"

All that he could hear was the crackling of flames around him. This wasn't where he was supposed to be, he needed to get home. Five immediately tried using his powers to go back in time. 

"C'mon" he begged of his power

But there was nothing he could do. Realizing it was too late and he was stuck he turned back to look at the remains of what was once him home. Collapsing to his knees the feeling of sadness overwhelmed him. There was nothing left. Slowly he regained his strength to stand and made his way around the house. Finding an area that wasn't consumed by flames, he carefully started to explore. Out of the rubble, he saw a hand sticking out holding an eye. Curiously he walks over to the hand and takes the eye out of it. He examines the eye before moving to see the person there. It was a man. He then looks to his left and looks out amongst the rubble of the building. Running over to another man he spotted he roughly tries to shake them but it is useless as they don't move. He then passes a female person before heading over to another man. He stares at the figure and sees the marking on his wrist, an umbrella in a circle. These weren't just people, these were his siblings. He could feel himself getting choked up as he stood there amongst their lifeless bodies. They were his family and they were all gone. Before he could fully acknowledge the sight he heard a faint gasping coming from further back. Running towards it he sees another figure impaled on some metal rebar. He makes his way over but when he sees who it truly is his heart sinks.

"(Y/N)!" He calls out rushing to your side

Five kneels next to you and takes in the sight of you. You were older but not as old as his siblings. It must've been because you took those jumps through time with him. 

"(Y/N)" He says softly

Slowly you turn your head to him. You couldn't tell if you were imagining things but there was  Five, your best friend, right in front of you. His blue eyes were full of sorrow.

"Five? Are you my angel here to take me to the light?"

"No, I'm here I'm real." He says tears forming in his eyes

He looks at the metal going through you. He had to get you out of here. He needed to.

"(Y/N) it's gonna be okay I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to be alright!" He says choking up

Five frantically starts looking for anything to stop your bleeding and help keep you alive.

"Five." You lightly call out

"Yes." He says turning his attention back to you

"The book." You say looking towards your hand caught under some rubble

Quickly Five removes the rubble and grabs what you were asking for. It was the diary you had gotten for your 13th birthday. Surprisingly it was undamaged compared to the world around him. Gently he brings to book to you.

"Here." He says

"Keep it." You reply weakly pushing it back towards him

Five places the book in the ground and turns back to you. Using what last bits of your strength you have, you lift your hand to the small boy's face and place your hand on his cheek. Five uses one of his hands to hold yours against his face. You can feel some of the tears that had fallen from his eyes on your hand.

"Are you still mad at me?" You ask faintly

"No, never. I could never stay mad at you." He replies his voice choking up more

"Good..." you answer quietly

You wrap your hand around your locket and then lay your head back and close your eyes. The smallest of smiles on your face as you let out a breath. Five watches waiting for your chest to rise and fall again but it doesn't. Grabbing your shoulders he starts to shake you.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N) wake up! Please I needed you here! I need you with me! Please!" Five cries out

It was too late, you were gone. Holding what he could of your lifeless body he lets all the tears flow from his eyes. His painful cries of sorrow echoing throughout the empty landscape. He had lost you and was completely alone. And so in the same exact place, in two different times, you and five dealt with the same harsh truth. Everything you loved was gone and life would never be the same.

Taglist: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @eddiomyspaghettio @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind @vicassa @2cuteforyourlies @taylorsmakingfuckingmacandcheese @n1ghtsh4d3-67

[doc-pickles]

anywhere i want (just not home)

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

For the love of my life, the inspiration behind TS week, the wind in my sails… Happy later birthday @odd-birds-and-booksellers I hope you enjoy this

Always, Your Computer Wife,

Nina

+

We gather here, we line up

Weepin' in a sunlit room, and

If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

The pain in her cheek is still stinging as she struggles to open her eyes. There’s the faintest hint of sunlight filtering through the large window of her bedroom, a new day just beginning only hours after she’d finally been left alone long enough to find some peace.

The bed next to her is cold and empty, Paul having left for work while she was still crying and groaning in pain. He hadn’t spared her a second glance as he’d gotten dressed for the day, stepping over the puddle of blood that had collected on the floor where she’d laid for hours as he kicked her mercilessly, hurling harsh blows and leering insults as she’d tried to protect herself.

She pulls herself up and drags her barely conscious body to the shower, rinsing off the dried blood and sweat as she tends to the wounds she can see. She already knows she has at least one bruised rib and a sprained ankle, but she can’t do much about it now. For now all she can do is rinse off, lay in bed and hope that tonight doesn’t bring more of the same.

+

Jo bolts upright in bed, hand pressed to her chest as she attempts to slow her breathing down. The dream echoes in the back of her head, the painful memories replaying themselves in vivid technicolor right before her eyes.

She knows why they’re haunting her again, knows that he’s looking for her right now and that he won’t stop until he’s found her. Paul has made that much clear with his texts and letters, little signs to make it clear that they’re not done yet.

A hand closes over hers and she almost jumps before she remembers where she is. Jo squeezes Alex’s hand back, letting him pull her back down and into his embrace. As soon as his arms circle around her she can feel her body begin to calm down.

“It’s not even 2 AM, try and get some sleep, you need it,” Alex’s voice in her ears convinces her to close her eyes, even if sleep is far off the feeling of him so close helps to relax her. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

'Cause I loved you, I swear I loved you

'Til my dying day

It’s later that same day when Jo receives another text, the ping stopping her during rounds and prompting her to make a flimsy excuse to Meredith as she rushes to the nearest bathroom.

Can’t wait to see you soon, both of you.

The text lingers in her mind as her breakfast reappears, tears flowing as she tries to drown out the overwhelming noise in her mind. Paul didn’t make empty threats, that’s one thing she knew for sure. The texts she was receiving were just the tip of the iceberg for whatever he had in store for her.

“Jo? You in here?”

She can barely respond to Alex in between crying and being sick, her body overwhelmed as she tries to keep herself calm. Jo can hear Alex saying something incomprehensible as she begins to hyperventilate, his voice growing further away as her breathing became more ragged.

The last thing Jo registers before everything goes black is Alex holding her against his chest, his fingers threading through her hair in an attempt to calm her as his heartbeat echoed unsteadily in her ears.

When she comes back around Jo’s not shocked to find herself laying in a hospital bed, an IV and monitoring wires hooked up to her pale skin. Before she has a chance to overthink anything though Alex is in front of her, his hands running down her cheeks and wiping away the tears she hadn’t realized had collected there.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you,” Alex’s voice is soft as she meets his eyes, his gaze causing her to melt into another round of tears. “Oh Jo, it’s okay.”

“It’s not! He’s going to kill me, he already knows where I am and this time he’s going to make sure I don’t survive,” Jo chokes the words out, her fingers ghosting over her protruding stomach. “Alex, he's not going to leave me alone until both of us are dead. I can’t put our baby at risk like that.”

The thought almost makes her sick again, her daughter kicking against her hand as she draws in a deep breath. Of all the wild and unexpected things her and Alex had been through, their daughter was by far her favorite. Even with a few weeks left until she arrived Jo already felt a fierce instinct to protect the little girl growing in her womb.

“I’m not going to let him get anywhere near the two of you, I promise,” Alex brushes back a few strands of hair lingering on her forehead, pressing a kiss to the cool skin as he settles into the bed next to her. “You’re safe with me Jo, both of you are.”

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

Jo wants to believe Alex, she really does. Since her breakdown over Paul’s threats he had been by her side whenever he could. His presence was comforting but it did little to calm the raging mental battle she was fighting inside her head.

Now though, as she stares down at her daughter sleeping peacefully in her arms, she knows that she made the right decision. She just hopes Alex agrees with her.

“She's perfect, you did so good,” Alex had repeated the words over and over since Isla had made her appearance almost six hours ago, but they still prompt a smile on Jo’s face. “I love you two so much.”

“I love you, we both do,” Jo leans up and captures his lips with her own, lingering a little longer than she normally would as Alex’s fingers trace her cheek delicately. “Would you do me a big favor? I left my robe at home and it’s freezing in here. Could you go home real quick and grab it?”

Alex nods, a grin on his face as he stands from the chair at her bedside and gathers his keys and wallet. Jo watches him intently, memorizing every movement and expression that makes him exactly the man she fell in love with. He leans down to press one more kiss to her forehead then Isla’s before promising to be back soon.

As the door to her hospital room shuts, Jo looks down at her daughter, tears splashing onto the newborn's cheeks as her mother watches her, “Your daddy loves you very much, don’t you ever forget that.”

And you're the hero flying around, saving face

“Alex, are you coming to work today? It’s been a week,” Meredith’s voice rings out from the doorway of the loft, but Alex can’t bring himself to answer her. She’d been by everyday since he’d come home, her voice prodding at him the only sound in the loft.

He’d gone home to get Jo’s robe like she’d asked, finally finding it tucked away at the very back of the closet instead of hanging in the bathroom like it usually was. On his way back to her room, he’d stopped in the hospital gift shop and grabbed the fluffiest pink and white teddy bear sitting in the window. He had told the cashier that his daughter had just been born and showed off the photo of Jo and Isla that was already his phone lock screen.

And then he’d gone upstairs, the missing robe and teddy bear tumbling from his hands as he found an empty bed and bassinet, Jo and Isla’s bags gone from the room that they’d occupied not even an hour before when he’d left. He’d asked every nurse and doctor on shift but no one had an answer for him. When he finally made it back to the room, he saw the note hastily scribbled across a spare piece of paper, his knees giving way as he read the words printed in Jo’s recognizable script.

I couldn’t let him find us, I’m so sorry. Please don’t worry, we’re safe.

Love you always.

J & I

He’d sat on the floor of the hospital room until Meredith had come to collect him at the bidding of the nurses on the floor. She’d given him a sympathetic look and held him as he cried, only letting his guard down for his closest friend.

The reality hadn’t truly sunk in until he came home later that night to an empty loft filled with baby gear and the scent of Jo lingering on every surface. He’d screamed then, throwing pillows and couch cushions and anything he could find in an attempt to get some of his emotions out in the open.

It hadn’t helped though, the sadness he’d felt morphing into feelings of anger and helplessness. Alex knew that Jo was acting out of desperation, doing what she truly thought was right, and he couldn’t be mad at her for that. No, his anger was directed at the man that had pushed her to that point, had scared her and haunted her every move so horribly that she’d fled Seattle with their newborn daughter in tow.

As he ignores Meredith for yet another day, Alex let his mind wander to Jo and Isla for a moment. He knows Jo would never run with their daughter if she didn’t have a plan to keep her safe, but just the knowledge that they were out there without him broke his heart.

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

His fingers press down the collar of the light blue button up once more before sliding the black suit jacket over it. He examines himself in the mirror of the hotel room one last time before turning to leave. He’d only been to Seattle once before for a medical conference, but this trip held a much more important air to it.

Brooke, his Brooke, was close. Closer than she’d ever been before and he couldn’t wait to see her again. He was delighted when he’d found her again, even more so when he found out that she was a doctor giving him the perfect opportunity to drop in on her. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he saw her.

We gather stones, never knowing what they'll mean

Some to throw, some to make a diamond ring

When Alex finally makes it back to work he’s met with an abundance of pitying looks and unhelpful comments. He knows most of his coworkers have good intentions but he’s in the verge of screaming at the next person who interacts with him. All he wants to do is work and try and forget that his daughter and the love of his life aren’t waiting for him at home like they should be.

“Alex! I have someone I want you to meet,” Arizona’s bubbly voice almost makes Alex roll his eyes, the blonde not doing much to improve his demeanor since he was in no mood to meet anyone new. “This is Doctor Paul Stadler, he’s an expert on laparoscopic surgery techniques which is always helpful when we have tiny humans to save.”

Alex can feel his blood run cold as he turns towards Arizona and the man standing next to her. Whatever picture he had painted in his head fades as he stares at the man in front of him. Despite his bright grin Alex knows exactly what Paul is capable of, what he had done and threatened to do to Jo.

“While I’d love to meet your whole team Doctor Robbins, I’m not here on business today. I’m looking for Doctor Wilson actually.”

“Oh,” Arizona’s face falls, gaze turning to Alex as his jaw tightens. “Actually she’s-“

“She’s gone, she left,” Alex’s voice has an edge that makes even him flinch at how harsh and cold it is.

Paul eyes Alex for a moment, looking him over before speaking again, “That’s unfortunate. Would you happen to know where she is? I’d love to speak with her.”

“Well get in line then because I've been waiting for her to come home for the past three weeks,” Alex slams the iPad in his hands onto the counter of the nurses station, eyes ablaze as he stares Paul down. “You harassed her for months on end and scared her so much that she ran away with our daughter hours after giving birth.”

Paul attempts to conceal the smirk on his face but fails, causing Alex to step towards him with clenched fists. Arizona steps between the two men, fixing Alex with a hard stare.

“Back up Alex. I know that you’re upset about Jo but-“

“But nothing! He’s the reason my girlfriend and daughter are gone!”

“Okay why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” Arizona’s hands squeezing his shoulders finally breaks Alex’s gaze away from Paul whose face has broken into a full on shit eating grin. Arizona and Alex exchange a look and he can tell she’s holding back her anger now as well. “Alex, go home.”

How can I when they’re not there?

The question echoes in his mind the whole drive back to the loft, Alex’s heart constricting as he sat on the edge of his and Jo’s bed. The loft was still empty, sounds still echoing off the walls as he sat alone. His mind brings up the image of Jo and Isla sitting in their hospital room as he walked away, not knowing that was the last time he’d see them.

He leans forward, reaching into his dresser and rummages around his sock drawer for a minute before pulling out a velvet box. When Jo had told him she was pregnant he’d immediately gone out and bought the ring. Not because of Isla, but because starting a family with Jo was all the confirmation he needed that she was it for him. Now the box sat collecting dust in his drawer, it’s future uncertain as he wondered exactly where Jo was.

You know I didn't want to have to haunt you

But what a ghostly scene

“And this is your daddy and your Auntie Meredith. They love you so much,” despite knowing that the infant couldn’t understand what she said or even clearly see the photo she had pulled up on her phone, Jo made sure that Isla knew about all of the people they loved in Seattle. “Your daddy misses you so much, baby girl. I’m sorry I took you away from him, I know that makes me a crappy mom.”

“You’re not a crappy mom,” Jo looks from Isla to the man sitting next to her, his hand settling on her shoulder as he fixes her with a knowing look. “You did what you had to do.”

“Some days it doesn’t feel like that,” Jo sighs, her head falling to his shoulder as she fights back tears. “I took her from her dad! I took her away from the only family she’ll ever have, Link. And why? Because I’m scared?”

Link pulls back from Jo, meeting her eyes as he speaks, “You had every reason to run, you know that. I’ve seen what he’s capable of, I wouldn’t want to worry about that all the time if I were you. Especially with a newborn, I get it. So don’t feel too bad for yourself, I think you made the right choice.”

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

'Cause when I'd fight, you used to tell me I was brave

“Jo?”

The lights in the loft are off but Jo’s car is parked out front. When he switches the lights on Alex sees Jo shoving clothes into a tote bag, tear stains tracking down her cheeks.

“Jo what are you doing?”

"I'm going to Stephanie’s for a few nights, just until I can figure things out.”

Jo’s voice is nervous and she's talking a mile a minute. She still hasn't looked up at Alex but he can see the bright red hives cropping up on her neck already.

"I'm sorry it was an accident but I’m going to

fix it. It's my fault, I'll fix it!”

"What are you talking about,” despite the fact that he's spoken up more than once Jo seems to be in a world of her own.

“Don't worry about it, you don't need more stress,” Jo’s hands are shaking as she closes the bag she's holding. "It's still early, it'll be an easy fix. I'm going to fix it, I have an appointment scheduled."

It clicks for Alex then just exactly what Jo is talking about. He sinks to his knees next to her tilting her chin up so she’ll finally look at him.

“Are you pregnant?”

"I'm sorry, I missed my birth control it was an accident," Jo’s tone is frantic now as more tears begin to fall. "I have an appointment, I'm going to fix it-“

"Jo slow down, I'm not mad so stop apologizing,” Alex wiped at the tears that had collected on Jo’s cheeks. "You don't want our baby?”

Jo blinked up at Alex as if nothing he was saying was making sense to her.

“What's actually the matter Jo? Why were you so scared to tell me?"

“I… I'm married."

“What?"

“I'm married to a guy who nearly beat me to death. And when I got pregnant I thought he'd

be happy and maybe he'd let up, instead he yelled and screamed and then he,” Jo pauses, eyes downcast as she looks down at her hands. “When he was done with me for the night I wasn't pregnant anymore.

“He wouldn't let me get birth control though so the next time I just solved the problem quietly. And when it happened a third time I ran. I ran and changed my name and never turned back,” Jo finally looks up and meets Alex’s gaze, eyes watery still as he watches her. “I had a miscarraige that time, probably because of how banged up I was. But it got me out of there. So when I started having the same symptoms again I freaked out.”

“Oh Jo…”

“Alex, I’m terrified of my past and of losing you and losing this baby… I’ve already lost far too much. I don’t want to lose any more.”

“You’re not going to lose me. I’m all in with you even if it means we never get married. You and this baby mean everything to me. That is if you want it.”

“Of course I do, I want this more than anything. I want kids with you, I really do but…”

“Okay then we’ll do it.”

“Really? You dont think I’m too damaged or crazy?”

“Yes Jo, I want all of that,” Alex pulled Jo into his lap, placing a hand over her stomach as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I love you and you’re just about the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

Look at how my tears ricochet

The room is spinning when she pries her eyes open, dried blood making the task difficult. She tries to sit up, but the pain radiating from her stomach keeps her down. She knows if she moves she’ll make it worse, but her body is in pain and she can’t lay in this position much longer.

As soon as she makes a move, the pain is back. She thinks it’s his foot that’s making contact with her ribs now, digging into her back as her body curls in on itself.

“Stop! Please!”

The cries are useless, they always are, but she hopes that maybe they’ll convince him to end her suffering sooner or throw the next punch a little softer.

“Please stop! Stop!”

Her shoulders are shaking as she blinks her eyes open again, a pair of blue eyes staring down at her in concern.

“It was just a nightmare, you’re okay and you’re safe,” Link’s words help to steady her heartbeat a little, her eyes moving to Isla who's peacefully sleeping in his arms. “I woke you up because I just turned the news on. Take a look.”

“Former Harvard University professor Paul Stadler was arrested early yesterday morning on charges of battery and assault against his girlfriend, who is still being treated for her injuries at Massachusetts General Hospital. Since his arrest, three more women have come forward with allegations against Stadler ranging from ongoing harassment to physical violence and sexual assault. Boston PD is asking any other victims to contact them at this time.”

Jo stares blankly at the television in front of her, eyes welling with tears as the news footage continues to roll. She wasn’t alone and she was so close to being free from Paul’s hold on her.

“You have to go to Boston, your testimony could put him away,” Link’s voice snaps her out of her reverie, eyes moving from the television to him. “Jo, he’s going to prison. You can finally be free.”

The hope that had ignited her heart just moments earlier was crushed as she played through the possibilities before her. What if she testified and Paul wasn’t put in prison? What if he continued to harass her? What if he hurt Isla? Or Alex?

“I can’t. I can’t face him again… There's too much on the line,” Jo looks away from Link, her tears finally falling. “I have too much to lose.”

“And you’ll be stuck right here if you don’t do anything!”

“At least I’ll be safe then.”

“And what about Alex? You’re okay never seeing him again? Never letting Isla see him?”

Jo stands suddenly, facing Link with an angry expression, “You don’t get to make the calls here Link! I appreciate everything you’ve done for us but I can’t risk everything when there’s not a guarantee that it’ll end up well.”

Jo storms out of the room then, complex emotions overwhelming her as she sinks into her bed. She wishes things were easier, were more black and white instead of the fuzzy grey she’d become so accustomed to. But they aren’t, they never would be with Paul and now she’d dragged Alex and Isla and even Link into the pools of grey she’d spent so long trying to avoid.

And I can go anywhere I want

Anywhere I want, just not home

Alex watched his phone ring for a moment, debating on picking up at all. He doesn’t recognize the number and he doesn’t know anyone from California. But he still clicks the green accept button, hoping whoever it was wasn’t going to waste his time.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I’m so glad you picked up.”

Alex freezes, stares at his phone for a moment, then brings it back up to his ear, “Jo? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” there’s a long pause and Alex almost thinks she’s hung up before she begins to cry. “I’m so sorry Alex. I’m so sorry we left you. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I know, I get why you left. I hate it but I understand,” a sigh leaves him as he rests his head against the wall next to him, tears forming in his eyes as well, “Are you okay?”

“Yes we’re both fine, I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t have somewhere safe to run to,” Jo sucks in a breath, as if her next words are taking everything out of her. “Paul is going to prison.”

“I know, I saw. Are you going to testify?”

“I don’t know. I want to but… There's too much at risk. I don’t want him to hurt you or Isla.”

Just the sound of his daughter's name tugs at Alex’s heart, the tears that had been welling in his eyes spilling onto his cheeks.

“If you don’t go you’re going to be living in fear for the rest of your life. But if you do, you can get closure. And you can save more people from getting hurt by Paul.”

She lets his words sink in for a moment before he hears her voice again, “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you and Isla both,” Alex can hear shuffling in the background, a deep voice and then a small cry.

“I have to go, Alex.”

“Wait Jo-”

“I love you. We both do.”

“I love you too.”

The line goes dead then and Alex can’t help the sob that breaks from his chest. He misses Jo, misses Isla, misses the feeling of wholeness that came to him when he would climb into bed with Jo at the end of every day.

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood

But you would still miss me in your bones

Alex doesn't know what drives him to fly to Boston, but he feels a small sense of relief when he sees Paul Stadler in the defendant's seat. A sick feeling makes itself at home in the pit of his stomach as he watches half a dozen women testify to the horrors that Paul had put them through, detailing the ways he had tormented them. Jo had never gone into detail to him but if what she went through was even half as bad as what he was hearing then he understood why she had gone to such extremes to hide from Paul.

He watches as the final woman testifies and finds her seat again, the courtroom silent except for the prosecuting attorneys whispering among themselves. Finally, one of the lawyers stands and addresses the courtroom, “Your honor, we’d like to call our final witness. The prosecution calls Brooke Elizabeth Stadler, now Josephine Alice Wilson, to the stand.”

Alex feels the air leave his lungs as he watches Jo approach the bench. Her hair is shorter and a dirty blonde color but she’s still the same woman he knows so well. The dark blue dress she’s wearing sways lightly as she takes the stand, stating her name and swearing in before she begins to give her testimony. Jo explains how she and Paul met, how they married, and then she goes into the abuse she endured. Alex listens to the detailed accounts she gives, accompanied by the numerous hospital reports.

“And then one day I got sick of it and I ran. I knew Paul would find me though so I fled the state and changed my name. I started a new life and I have a beautiful daughter,” Jo finally meets Alex’s gaze and he gets the overwhelming urge to wrap her up in his arms and hold her close. “But Paul found me again and he was threatening me so as soon as my daughter was born I ran again. I left behind my new life, the only place I’ve ever felt safe because I knew he would find me again and I couldn’t risk him hurting my daughter.”

The air in the courtroom is thick as Jo’s words sink in. Alex knows he’s not the only one who’s been affected by her testimony and the words of everyone that went before her. The prosecutor thanks Jo, the defending attorney waiving their right to question her. As she steps down from the stand she meets Alex’s gaze for a moment before turning away and going back to her seat.

And I still talk to you (when I'm screaming at the sky)

And when you can't sleep at night (you hear my stolen lullabies)

“Jurors, have you come to a decision?”

“We have your honor,” there’s a tense silence in the courtroom as the decision is handed off to the judge. “We find the defendant Paul Stadler guilty on all charges.” A breath of relief leaves Alex as he turns to look at Jo. There’s tears streaming down her face and the slightest hint of a smile as she looks at him. Before he can get up and go to her though she's surrounded by the other women who had testified, all of them crying in relief.

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

She sees him about fifty feet in front of her, his back to her as he stands almost perfectly still. She watches him for a moment, his slumped shoulders and overall defeated attitude and for a moment she feels guilty for what she’s put him through in the past three months. Before she can dwell on the feeling for too long Alex is turning towards her, looking over her with that same sad expression he’d been wearing in the courtroom.

There’s a moment where all Jo and Alex do is stare at each other before she finds herself rushing forward and launching herself into his embrace. His arms are holding her tightly, refusing to let go even as she begins to cry into his chest.

This moment, the feeling of being in Alex’s arms again, is all Jo has wanted since she’d left Seattle.

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

“Alex, I’m so-”

“Stop, you don't need to apologize to me,” Alex pulls back from Jo, one hand coming to cup her cheek. “I get it, I understand where you’re coming from. I know why you ran so don’t ever think of apologizing to me. I’m just glad that you’re safe.”

A fresh round of tears springs to Jo’s eyes as she looks up at Alex, “I don’t deserve you. I’ve put you through so much.” Alex blinks down at Jo, not believing what he’s hearing. Their relationship had never been one sided, they’d both supported each through tough situations and had come out stronger at the end. In his eyes this was nothing more than another speed bump.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you back Jo. I love you and all of this? None of it changes how I feel about you,” Alex leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Jo’s lips. “I love you and I’m glad you’re back in my arms.”

And you're cursing my name, wishing I stayed

“Hey! I just heard the verdict!”

Jo turns at the sound of Link’s voice, a wide smile spreading across her face as her best friend comes into view. It’s not so much the blonde man’s presence that makes her grin as it is the infant in his arms. Isla is wide eyed as she looks at Jo, the three month old blinking up at her mother with a sense of wonder.

“Hi baby girl, I have someone who’s very excited to see you,” Jo eagerly takes her daughter from Link before turning and looking at Alex. “Isla say hi to daddy, he missed you sooo much.”

The look on Alex’s face as he takes Isla from Jo’s arms is priceless, tears welling in his eyes as he lets out a watery laugh. The little girl snuggles comfortably into his arms, as if she had done it a hundred times before and Jo can’t help her own tears as they leak onto her cheeks.

“You three get together, I think this moment needs to be remembered.” Alex and Jo both heed Link’s instruction and wipe their tears away to boast wide grins. The photo of the three of them squeezed together after a grueling ordeal graces their family mantle for years to come. Even when there are dozens of other family photos, pictures from Alex and Jo’s wedding, and the birth of their second daughter, the photo of Jo, Alex, and Isla standing in front of the courthouse in Boston remains the centerpiece of their living room as a reminder of the sacrifices they all made to keep their family together.

Look at how my tears ricochet

[purplebass]

#2 Celbratory Fic! And it's another one with Jesse and his uncles + cousins. This time, Jesse spends time with uncle Gabriel, Thomas, Anna and Grace. You can just say is a continuation of this other fic I've posted a few days ago. The next fic will be about Grace and Christopher (also: anon, I hope you don't mind I'll use your prompt!). I also hint at this in this fic. So, happy reading! ✨

Characters: Jesse Blackthorn, Thomas Lightwood, Gabriel Lightwood, Anna Lightwood, Grace Blackthorn, Lucie Herondale

Jesse sat across his cousin Thomas in the carriage, and it was a bright morning. He forgot how hot the weather could turn towards the summer season, and wished he hadn’t worn a coat, because the air in the vehicle was stale, and he was sweating. Too late. Too late and too bad the windows seemed to be stuck, but at least they had almost arrived at his uncle Gabriel’s house.

“Are you adapting well?” Thomas asked him.

“Uncle Gabriel and aunt Cecily are very kind,” he said. He accepted to live at their house for the time being, while he continued training to become a shadowhunter. “And Anna decided to give me her room while I’m there. I can’t express my gratitude enough.”

Thomas smiled. “Don’t mention it. You’re part of our family. But even if you weren’t, we would still help you, Jesse.”

Jesse couldn’t help but grin, and blush a little. He remembered when he was a child. His mother never failed to mention how his uncles and their families were corrupted, evil, and they needed to be kept at arm’s length, if he ever were to cross paths. But his relatives had been nothing short of welcoming.

“Looks like we’re here,” Thomas announced, glancing outside. “By the angel, uncle!” he exclaimed next, as he opened the door to get off.

Jesse exited after him, and saw his uncle Gabriel touching the side of his shoulder. “Is everything alright?” he asked. Thomas seemed to have stormed inside already.

Gabriel looked up, and winced a little. “Yes, yes. I wanted to open the door for you, but Thomas beat me to it,” he shrugged. “Did you have fun at Gideon and Sophie’s?”

Jesse nodded. “They took me around Idris. It was really nice,” he said. He had seen Idris already, when he was a ghost. But seeing it during the day was something entirely different. He liked the shadowhunter city, and the life that came with it. Although, if he had to be honest, he preferred the area where Blackthorn Manor was located, at the edge of Brocelind forest, where there was nothing else but vegetation around him. And Herondale Manor.

“I’m glad, I’m glad,” Gabriel replied. “When you’re ready, we will accompany you to the manor like you asked last time. Do you still want to renovate it?”

“I think it’s my duty as the last Blackthorn alive.” It felt weird to utter the word alive without thinking himself dead. I am alive. I am alive. I am living. “And I want to see if there is something that can be salvaged from the ruins. You know, family heirlooms, and things like that.” There weren’t many things in the manor that Jesse had cared about, because admittedly, there hadn’t been much to begin with. He hoped that most of the items he used whenever they were there, like the old books which probably belonged to his father or grandparents, hadn’t been destroyed in the fire. He had cherished those books. They were one of the few goods that had given him a glimpse of how his father might have been around his age. He didn’t live that long, after all.

Sometimes, he found himself thinking about Rupert. How life might have turned out, if he hadn’t lost his life before he was born. Now his uncles, aunts and cousins were the closest thing he had to a family. His uncle Gabriel offered to teach him how to use the bow and arrow, which had surprised Jesse. He hadn’t asked anyone to help him with training. He was happy someone offered to help him.

“I’ve always wanted to learn how to use it, but we didn’t have one at Chiswick,” he told Gabriel in the training room of the London Institute, where there was more space available to practice.

Gabriel had made a face. “Strange. There was one which belonged to me, but maybe,” he had shaken his head, lost in thought. “Nevermind. Let’s get started, shall we?”

And then he had spent the day learning how to hold the bow and shoot. It hadn’t been easy, and his shoulders were a little stiff, but he had managed to pull a few good shoots by the end of their session. His uncle had patted his shoulder lightly and had congratulated him. It felt good.

“Not bad for your first time,” he had commented. “How did you find the bow?”

“I think I like it.”

“If we train more, you will get even better. No pressure.”

Jesse wasn’t sure if the bow and arrow was his weapon of choice, but he surely wanted to know more about it. “Thanks, uncle Gabriel,” he had replied, making his uncle’s face brighten.

It was the first time he had called him uncle.

Gabriel and Jesse reached the drawing room. Perched on an armchair, newspaper in hand, sat his cousin Anna Lightwood. “About time, cousin. My tea’s got cold,” she said, twirling the cup in her slender fingers for show. It was empty.

Jesse had heard a lot about Anna. Had seen her while he was a ghost as well. She had a reputation for being fashionable and very direct, confident. Two things he didn’t think he was, but not everyone was perfect, and he was sure that Anna had demons of her own. Perhaps, someday they would talk about it like cousins did. He believed.

“You know that our family’s carriage is slow, Anna,” said Thomas from the window, his arms crossed on his chest.

“Right. Anyway, you’re here, finally,” she said, rising from her seat. “Are you excited that we’re about to redo your wardrobe?”

“I trust your judgement” he answered. “But please, don’t make me ridiculous.”

“You, ridiculous?” Anna’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You could never be ridiculous with such features. Trust me on that. I will make your black hair and green eyes combination shine.”

“If you say so,” he pursed his lips. “Grace,” he said then, as his sister crossed the threshold. She had been staying at the Lightwoods as well, but lately she had been spending more time at Grosvenor Square, where the Fairchilds lived. She told him that she liked to help his cousin Christopher in the lab, and that she wanted to learn more about science. Jesse couldn’t object about that, because he knew that his sister could never truly pursue what she wanted. He just wanted her to be happy, and if science was what she was interested in, so be it.

“I’m sorry I’m late, but I had to change.”

“Did my brother burn something again?” Anna asked. “Last time I wanted to watch what he was doing, he ruined my tie.”

“And he almost burnt my eyebrows once,” Thomas reminded them.

“Nothing of the sort,” Grace said. “It’s late, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we go?” she asked hurriedly, as if she didn’t want to continue that conversation. She barely talked about what happened in the lab, and he guessed she didn’t want to. Not that he wanted to know. He respected her privacy, but not everyone did.

Thomas stayed behind because he had something to do, whereas Jesse, Anna and Grace decided to take a walk to get to the shops where they could find something for him. They didn’t disguise themselves, which he liked. It made him feel part of the world again, to be seen by people. The street Anna had taken them teemed with pedestrians going about their day, and they reached the clothing shop soon. It had a big sign on it, and some dresses on display.

Anna decided that purple and burgundy were Jesse’s color, and she chose a couple of waistcoats. She insisted that she would pay, saying they were a welcoming gift. Now they were visiting the third shop, which was a three floor building which sold different items for men and women alike. He believed they had bought several pieces already, but Anna was convinced that he needed a coat for the winter season, even if it was almost summer. Ah, and a bathing suit. Really? As she was looking around to find the perfect piece, he decided to take a tour around the store, since he had never seen one like that before.

He was by himself as he waited, because Grace excused herself that she also needed to look for something. He walked around and glanced at the accessories and the clothes, until something caught his eye.

“I don’t think that is her style,” Grace said, reappearing by his side as if she had appeared out of thin air.

He lifted a brow. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he feigned ignorance. “And how do you know what her style is?”

“You’re right, I have no idea about that. Although I’ve paid attention to her, I’m not sure.”

“About what?” he peered at her as she was checking something from the same rack.

Grace gave him an unreadable look. “She seems fickle. I’m worried that now that she managed to bring you back, she won’t be interested anymore.”

“I understand your concern, Grace,” he told her flatly. “But I can assure you, it’s nothing like that.”

“Has she told you she loves you already?”

“How do you know that?” he asked, blushing, glancing away.

“She did,” Grace said, inclining her head. “I can’t believe it. I thought she would never.”

Jesse didn’t know how Grace had realized that, but he could tell that she understood his feelings, and she didn’t want him to get hurt. He was about to ask her something, when Anna interrupted them.

“This looks refined, cousin,” she commented. “Lucie will like it,” she added, before she stormed away again.

Jesse and Grace exchanged a glance, and the latter grinned. He felt his cheeks warm, and he walked away before his sister could notice he was blushing.

...

A few hours and several bags of clothes and accessories later, they all went back to the Lightwood residence. Anna was pleased with what she had chosen for Jesse, and said that she’d be looking forward to seeing him in one of them at the next event, whatever that might be.

“Anna has a good eye for fashion,” Grace commented, holding two bags of clothes as well. “Do you think she likes us?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Jesse shrugged. It was a curious question he did not expect.

“Well, you’re her cousin, whereas I’m -” Grace stopped mid-sentence, making Jesse wait. “Lucie.”

She turned abruptly, as if she had been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She glanced at Grace, then at him. “Hello, Grace. Hello, Jesse.”

“What are you doing here?” Grace asked bluntly. It sounded a bit like an accusation, but considering the conversation they had had in the shop earlier, he expected it. Grace was wary of Lucie.

Lucie sighed, and managed a smile. She wasn’t wearing a hat nor gloves, and he suspected she had been waiting for them. He glowed inside. She came to see him. Which excuse would she use today? He bit his lip expectantly, amused.

“I had to run an errand for… for aunt Cecy,” she mumbled, clutching her hands nervously. “She needed something to do something, I guess.”

Grace wasn’t convinced at all, but she let her go. “See you next time,” she just said, then gazed up at Jesse one last time before leaving them alone.

Once Grace was out of sight and out of earshot, Lucie advanced. She offered him her best smile, which he exchanged with one of his own.

“Nice excuse you’ve got here, huh,” he said.

“Was it that obvious?”

“She already knows, Lucie,” he revealed, to which Lucie just nodded. “You know that Anna took me shopping today,” he changed the topic quickly. He opened his arms, and she hurried to him and put her hands behind his back, and her head on his chest. He closed her in an embrace, and interlaced his fingers behind her neck.

“Did you buy a lot of things?” she asked excitedly. “I can’t wait to see you in one of the suits you bought with Anna.”

“You will see them soon enough, I think. Isn’t there a party next week? At the London Institute?”

“Is it?” she glanced up. “I didn’t. Why has no one notified me?”

“Do not sound so angry,” he chided, a smile dancing on his lips. “No one knows.”

“Are you teasing me, Jesse Blackthorn?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I have something for you,” he said, and produced a small pouch from his pocket. “Here.”

Lucie examined it, and then looked inside. There was a silver comb with a butterfly decoration in it. “It’s precious,” she told him. Unable to hide her joy, she hugged him again, this time more tightly than before. “I really like it.”

“I’m glad,” he remarked, caressing the back of her neck. “I had to make up for the one I couldn’t retrieve from Chiswick.”

“Nevermind about that. I like this one more,” she said, and raised her head so that he could kiss her.

Someone cleared their voice, and they separated. It wasn’t a secret that they were together… to most. But probably, not everyone had caught up.

“Does Will know about this?” Gabriel asked, but they could tell he wasn’t serious, just curious. And he was smiling.

“Come on, Gabriel. Leave them alone,” Cecily intervened, taking her husband’s arm to lead him away, winking at them. “They were just embracing.”

“He will know next week,” Jesse said, making Gabriel and Cecily stop in their tracks. “That I plan to spend the rest of my life with Lucie, however long that might be.”

Lucie opened her mouth in surprise, and looked at him. “Jesse, are you...”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Undoubtedly, yes!” she exclaimed, embracing him again.

“Did he just propose to her or it’s my impression?” Gabriel wondered out loud.

“He did. Yes, he sure did,” Cecily said, and dragged a blabbering Gabriel away, while Jesse basked in his own happiness with Lucie, and he felt alive.

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed, send me a PM): @princesslucinda @kit-12 @immortal-enemies @lucian-evander @esa-emery @danieldyers @blackthorn-trash @rinadragomir @fortunesandfables @itsdaughterofthemoon @silvenys@thomastair3 @livvyheronstairs @ holding-infinity-and-a-book @lovelaces @axoloteca @autumnangel20 @cordelia-cardale @lucie-blackthorns

[aphrodites-law]

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (5/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction.

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4]

If there was someone or something overseeing their lives, pulling the strings of their destiny and purposefully nudging them toward specific paths, then Clarke wanted a fucking word with them.  

It was a surprise, if not a shock, when she saw Lexa stroll into the shop with her laptop bag slung over her shoulder. It was barely a week after Clarke had resolved not to think about her anymore, a plan that hadn't always been successful. Lexa walked toward the counter with a proud chin, as if nothing had changed.

"Good morning," she said.

Clarke could have thrown a mini Bundt cake at her if Wells hadn't nearly burnt his apron making them.

"It was," she answered, deciding that professionalism was not in the cards today.

“I’ll have some pie, please."

“Humble?”

Lexa set her jaw. “And what would that taste like?”

Clarke smiled sardonically. “Bitter.”

Lexa held her stare before looking at the display. "I think I'll try the mini Bundt."

"For here or to go?" Clarke asked as she rang it up.

Lexa seemed disappointed to see that her usual seat by the weeping fig was occupied.

"Looks like it's busy."

"Faithful clientele," Clarke retorted, and then, "for the most part."

Lexa exhaled sharply before pulling out her wallet to pay in cash. "No problem, I'll have it to go."

Clarke put the mini Bundt in a paper bag. "No coffee?" she asked, though she didn't care much for the answer.

"Not today."

"I'm sorry we're fresh out of kale juice." It was a snippy comment that Clarke knew she was above making, but Lexa's sudden reappearance had touched a nerve.  

Whatever Lexa wanted to say, she visibly stopped herself. She grabbed her mini Bundt and then pulled out a sheet of paper from her bag.

"Would you mind if I put this up? It's the ad for interviews."

"I offered, didn't I?"

"Offers change."

"I don't go back on my word," Clarke answered stubbornly.

Lexa challenged her stare before nodding and walking toward the board. She scanned over each flyer, seemingly trying to figure out which one she could put hers next to. Finally she pinned it near the middle right. It was a sober flyer; no bold colors or giant fonts, but eye-catching in its minimalism compared to the busier ads surrounding it. As always, Lexa stuck to the basics.

Carrying her mini Bundt, she gave Clarke one last look before leaving. Clarke noticed the tip she'd left and hung her head before going back to her doodles. It was going to be a slow, rainy day.

* * *

It was a slow, rainy week. The wind came first; strong gusts that swept up old leaves and knocked down hats. A downpour followed on Wednesday, unrelenting and miserable. Customers came into the shop drenched, sticking their umbrellas in the already full rack by the entrance before rubbing their cold hands together.

Clarke liked watching their faces; the expressions of relief at finally finding some shelter and comfort from the brutal rain. It was gloomy outside but the café was everyone's home for a little while, the colors still warm and the plants still thriving. She couldn't help but enjoy these moments regardless of the cold, remembering this feeling was exactly why she'd gotten into this business in the first place.

Still, Clarke was human. An hour before closing time she was already fantasizing about hot tomato soup and the comfort of her bed. She'd finished chatting with a regular when Wells came in looking like he'd run a mile to get here. He usually left much earlier than she did, but sometimes swung back to check on things before driving to meet Raven at the theater.

"You want to read this," he told her with barely contained excitement, clutching his phone against his soaked raincoat.

He rounded the counter and showed her the screen. It was an article from the Costial Gazette with a damning title:

Finn's Coffee & Bagels: Neither Fresh nor Clean

"What is this?" Clarke asked, skimming the article. There were mentions of false advertising, misleading business practices, trouble brewing with the Federal Trade Commission, mentions of artificial preservatives despite claims of the contrary, and, to top off the proverbial shit cake, an anonymous employee detailing horrid management. It was a scalding report - one Clarke had dreamed of writing herself.  

Understandably, Wells couldn't stop grinning. "This is good, right? Especially the FTC stuff. Bad for him, good for us."

Clarke was about to answer when a thought struck her. She quickly scrolled back up: By Echo Blake and Lexa Woods.

Clarke shut her eyes closed. So maybe she'd jumped to conclusions when she'd seen Lexa at his shop. Maybe she'd made it personal. Who wouldn't? Lexa was still… Lexa. Impossible to read and impossible to understand.

"Titus will drop him for sure," Wells mused aloud. "How the hell did Finn get the old man to carry his brand anyway?"

"Money. Connections. Empty promises." Clarke had no doubt about that. "That's mostly how Finn gets what he wants."

Wells was still smiling from ear to ear when he texted Raven a link to the article. "Looks like it finally bit him in the ass. We should send the Gazette a Thank You cake."

Clarke leaned her elbows on the counter and let out a noncommittal grunt.

"What's wrong?" Wells asked. "I thought you'd be happy about this."

"Oh I'm happy. Just thinking about the humble pie I'm gonna have to eat myself."

* * *

Naturally, Clarke had to wait another week before Lexa dared show up again. She'd noticed that her ad had attracted some attention - curious customers reading it and then pocketing a tear-off tab - and was anticipating Lexa would come in to either replace it or take it down.

When she did, it was during the usual afternoon lull and Clarke felt nervous. Now that she knew her anger had stemmed from… well, a combination of things but also an overreaction, she was embarrassed by the way she'd previously spoken to Lexa.

When Lexa walked in, Clarke was cleaning one of the coffee machines. It was her distorted reflection that she saw in the nozzle; her discreet gait as she walked toward the board and unpinned her ad. Clarke figured she would leave immediately, but Lexa approached the counter. Her eyes scanned over the display glass.

"Can I get you anything?" Clarke tentatively asked.

Lexa looked up and readjusted the strap of her satchel. "Are there any baby Bundts left?"

Clarke shook her head. "All out. It's pecan tartlet week. But Wells liked making them, burnt apron aside - we could put them back in the rotation this month."

Lexa seemed surprised Clarke even suggested something that would please her. "That's alright; I'll just wait."

"Regular coffee?" Clarke asked.

Lexa nodded while looking away. "Sure."

As Clarke poured Lexa's regular in a paper cup, she couldn't help but feel like this was their first conversation all over again. Odd and stilted but also one that she didn't want to end so soon. Clarke capped the coffee and turned to her.

"I read your article on FC&B. It's really good." She gave her the cup. "Personal bias aside."

A small smile graced Lexa's face and Clarke felt a thrill. "My co-writer did most of the investigative work."

"But you did some too," Clarke remembered, knowing Lexa would also recollect the time Clarke had spotted her in Finn's shop. "Tried their juice and everything."

Lexa's nose scrunched subtly. "If that's what you want to call it. But still, Echo deserves the credit for the piece. It was her story from the beginning; I was mostly a sounding board."

Something about Lexa dismissing her own work bothered Clarke. "Don't do that."  

"Do what?"

"I've read your stuff before; I know there was some of you in that article. Just take the compliment, Lexa."

There was that fierce light in Lexa's eyes again. "It's not fully mine to take."

"I guess they just put your name on there to fill space?"

Lexa pressed her lips together, unimpressed with the sarcasm.

Clarke huffed. "Why are you so-" She couldn't even finish her question, unsure where to start. Why couldn't they communicate normally? Why did every sentence feel like a mountain to climb? And how on earth did Lexa push her buttons without even lifting a finger?

"You're frustrated," Lexa pointed out.

"I am."

"With me?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No. I've been told I can be frustrating before."

She said it with such a jaded expression that Clarke couldn't help but laugh. "God, how could I ever think…"

"Think what?" Lexa asked without skipping a beat.

Clarke shook her head and walked to the end of the counter. "Nothing."

Lexa followed. "You know, I'm not the only one who sidesteps questions."

There was something unnerving about her tone, like she was challenging her, and Clarke wasn't known to be a graceful loser.  

"You don't want the answers."

"Try me. You might be surprised."

Clarke scoffed, then decided she wouldn't back away any longer. "What do you really want to ask, Lexa?" It was the same turn of phrase Lexa had used on her at the bar; the frustration of unspoken truths reaching a boiling point. 

"What did you see?" Lexa inquired, never once looking away from her.  

Clarke hesitated. They couldn't do this here, now… could they?

"Clarke," Lexa said, almost like a plea. 

Clarke wasn't sure she'd ever heard her name said that way. She waited a beat. "Fine. I saw you."

Lexa visibly swallowed. "What about me?"

"You're a journalist. Guess."

"Good journalists don't guess. I would need some information to first form a hypothesis and then-"

"You kissed me," Clarke interjected, fed up with logic.

Lexa's mouth clamped shut, so Clarke continued:

"And I mean you kissed me everywhere. Is that enough to form a hypothesis?"

Lexa processed for a moment, her cheeks a shade darker. "It explains… things."

"Why?" Clarke paused, thinking it through. "Did you have…"

"Yes."

"The same?"

"Not exactly."

"Well? Spit it out."

Lexa looked around them, but no one paid them any attention. "I was making coffee. In my underwear.”

Clarke frowned, unsure she'd heard her correctly. "You're kidding, right? I make coffee every day, how is that so embarrassing you couldn't tell me?"

"No, you don't understand," Lexa weakly said. "I don't… like… coffee. Hate it. Any hot beverage actually."

"You hate coffee," Clarke repeated incredulously, eyes going to the very cup Lexa was holding.  

"But I was making it," Lexa reiterated. "In an apartment that wasn't mine. With doodles framed everywhere. After recognizing the style, I figured… I was making it for you."

Clarke stepped back, bewildered. She had never once thought that Lexa might've seen the same thing she had, or something close, or even seen her. She wasn't even sure what that meant, if anything at all.

"Oh."

"Yes."

It was like everything had shifted in the span of a few seconds, the before and after she had revealed what she'd seen. It was different now. Lexa knew, and she knew, and everything that had brought them here took on a different meaning. Lexa starting a dialogue; Lexa inviting her to a play; Lexa catching her eyes from across a room. She had been trying to solve a puzzle too; trying to understand what she might've missed before.

But.

Something between them never quite… locked. For the first time, Clarke realized that Lexa was just as wildly out of her depth as she was. Even in her anger she'd put Lexa on a pedestal; seen her as the diligent journalist with the clever words and the impenetrable stare. Now she saw Lexa as someone looking for answers just as she was. They'd both been trying to form a connection based on a vision - maybe that was the problem.

"Well, that kind of takes the surprise out of it," she said, finally exhaling.

Lexa opened and shut her mouth, unsure where to go from there. She settled on a mute nod while Clarke fiddled with her hands, glancing toward the front door and praying for someone to walk in. No such miracle happened quickly enough.

"Thank you for telling me." Lexa had gone quieter; introspective in the way Clarke was used to.

"Yep." Clarke rubbed the back of her neck. "It's probably for the best that- I mean, it's a relief actually."

"It is. I'm sorry if I acted strangely," Lexa said. "I was confused."

"Right. Because we barely knew each other."

"Exactly."

"And I mean… we were both clearly trying to see if there was something… there, and, I don't know that-"

Lexa's eyes flashed to hers. "No, of course not. I'm just a customer."

Clarke frowned. "I didn't say that."

"But it's true. We were drawn to each other because of something out of our control. It's something I've heard a lot in recent interviews. A guy walking up to a woman after he had a vision of her dress. A wife divorcing her husband because she had a vision of herself accepting a drink from a stranger."  

Lexa seemed to have gone back into business mode and Clarke didn't know if it was some sort of deflecting mechanism. Regardless, Clarke had never felt this awkward in her life. Like she might trip on her own feet if she even moved.

"So the visions push us to act a certain way," she tried to catch on.

Lexa nodded. "I'm exploring the theory that they're just one thread among hundreds of others. No one is forced to pull that one specifically. Nothing is ever inevitable."

Clarke didn't know what else she could do but nod in acknowledgment. That was it? People got life-altering information from their visions but she got a theory from the woman she shared the supposedly most exciting event of her life with?

"I'm glad we could clear the air."

"Absolutely," Lexa agreed.

Silence stretched for what felt like a minute before Lexa looked at her watch. "Speaking of interviews, I have a phone call soon."

"Great. Hope it's helpful."

"I'm sure it will be."

When Lexa started to leave, Clarke suddenly remembered something. "Wait!"

Lexa looked at her with wide eyes, practically in disbelief Clarke would want to prolong the excruciating moment.

"One more thing," Clarke said.  

"Yes?"

Clarke took a deep breath. "Was it a date?"

Lexa frowned. "What?"

"When you offered me a ticket to Lincoln's play. When you mentioned the after party. Were you asking me out?"

"You'd mentioned wanting to see a play," Lexa stammered. "I had the spare ticket."

"Did you want to pull the thread, Lexa?" Clarke asked, feeling a surge of confidence. Now that the secret was out, she needed to know everything. She needed their bizarre back-and-forths to have an explanation.  

Lexa froze. "I'm a journalist; I investigate. You were my only lead."

It affected her more than it should have, considering Clarke had promised herself she wouldn't let Lexa Woods get to her again.

Lexa must've noticed. "I didn't mean - you're obviously not just-"

"It's fine. I get it. I wanted to be sure too." Clarke turned to grab a towel for the counter. "It's like you said: nothing is inevitable. I'm glad we got it squared away."

Lexa nodded weakly. "So everything can go back to the way it used to be."

"Sure."  

"I look forward to tomorrow's new batch," Lexa told her politely before leaving.

Clarke dropped her towel and sat on the stool they kept behind the counter. Lexa was back in her life, but somehow it felt worse to return to normal. Somehow all Clarke could think about was that Lexa wanted to pull their damn thread but something was keeping her from it.

And maybe it was time to admit she might’ve hoped Lexa and her were inevitable.

- 

[part six]

[hyliangrace-a]

ZELDA, HER APPEARANCE & HER FEELINGS REGARDING IT  /  

talking with amber about the differences between the appearances in our respective zeldas got me motivated to finish this headcanon, finally ! i love zelda’s ocarina of time design, because y’know, imprinting on your very first zelda game & all that, but there’s always room for improvement, right ? these are my ( questionable ) improvements ! this headcanon ... got away from me little bit when i started to talk out my reasoning for zelda’s choice in how she presented herself as queen. i intended on talking about how she looks in other verses, too, such as when she’s a spectre in the queen’s shade universe, but i feel that would suit better as an entirely separate post, so, that’ll come in time ! i hadn’t intended on putting this post under a read more, because i feel it’s a fairly important headcanon & i’d like people to read it, but - surprise ! - it’s really long, & it would feel really rude to just leave it uncut, so behind the black it goes - that, & it also deals with body issues & negative perceptions of one’s body, so please keep that in mind if you’re sensitive to that sort of content. that said, & i’m aware of the irony of this sentence after the last, but i hope you guys at least find it an enjoyable read !  ♡

the three basic tenets of her appearance which have appeared in most of her predecessors & descendants ( pale, blue-eyed, blonde-haired ) apply in most, if not all, of my verses for zelda  but there are only a few verses of mine where i would say zelda’s appearance is exactly as it is within the game & the official art provided by nintendo - primarily the earliest arc of my canon verses, when she’s still the little princess, & the au which follows the events of the child timeline, where she never goes on the run & so never becomes sheik. she’s still quite fit, thanks to horseback riding & regular exercise, overseen by impa, but it’s in this au she most embodies the slim, graceful princess look nintendo gave her. one constant in all her adult verses, however, is her height - by the time she’s fully grown, she’s 5′8″.

in my other main, canon-inspired verses, well - zelda goes on the run at age ten, & it’s from that age impa begins to teach her how to fight, as she knows that she cannot protect her forever, & she’s going to need to become self-sufficient if she wants to survive. it starts off with basic things, graduating into an intense regime, but the result is, by the time link awakens from his slumber, zelda, even whilst disguised as sheik, is broad-shouldered & visibly muscled. i choose to interpret the tanned skin, red eyes & shorter hair as part of a glamour zelda put up, out of fear that ganondorf was searching for girls matching her description á la wind waker, but the muscles get to stay because whilst her appearance might be fake when under this alias, her feats are not. she did, after all, manage to survive seven years in a monster-infested hyrule, stay in the heart of death mountain without a visible goron tunic, & for whatever reason, was at kakariko village before link when the seal holding bongo-bongo back began to break, & i choose to interpret that as her being prepared to fight it. she also managed to make it through the haunted wasteland to the desert colossus / the spirit temple, sans lens of truth, & as she presents as an androgynous, masculine-leaning figure, she might have also had to prove her worth to the gerudo in battle, just as link did - after all, even though the gerudo, such as nabooru, openly disavow ganondorf by that point in time, it would be madness to declare her true self in his hometown.

this piece of fanart by lord-lorens is, honestly, the closest thing to how i picture zelda’s body type whilst she masquerades as sheik, & afterwards, when she reassumes her identity as princess. ( is there a gossip stone out there saying princess zelda has an eight pack ? there’s nothing in canon to disprove this, so yes. ) the only thing which stops it being entirely perfect for me is my headcanons of where across her body zelda is scarred ( which could be another, much smaller headcanon, so i’ll leave it for that ) but considering everyone’s interpretation of how zelda lived as sheik is varied, it was bound to happen - but god, minus those, i just want to pin this somewhere on my blog with an enormous sign next to it which says  ❛ this is how my zelda looks, as both sheik & a princess. ❜ but, with that in mind, lets move on.

i think it’s interesting how similar zelda’s outfit is as an adult ( which she ISN’T, she’s SEVENTEEN, but i digress - ) to the one she wears as a child, & my interpretation of it is that it’s very deliberate - & another glamour. ( seriously, where the fuck would she get a dress like that ? ) zelda hasn’t been seen in public, as herself, in seven years. the last people saw of her, as mentioned by those in castle town prior to drawing the master sword, is her fleeing the castle on horseback with her attendant, & that might have been the first glimpse some people had of her at all. when ganondorf is sealed away, & she re-emerges, she’s dressed similarly in order to spark recognition in people’s minds, & also because she knows that it may be difficult to prove she is who she claims to be, considering the king is dead, & impa has ascended as a sage, & can’t vouch for her. surviving nobles who interrogate her on her memories are able to confirm her claim to the throne, but if she had just strolled into kakariko village in casual dress, it’s very likely she would have absolutely been dismissed.

because of this, zelda’s feelings towards her appearance end up... complicated. in the aforementioned child timeline au verse, where she has a privileged, but more normal, adolescent socialization, she’s quite accepting of her own appearance & how feminine it is, because in that timeline, she fits the mold of what people expect a princess to be - she’s tall, she’s graceful, she’s pretty, & she’s rewarded for fitting that ideal. in her canon universe, where a life on the run left her with an entirely different body type, an indifference to feminity, many insecurities about her suitability as queen of hyrule, especially in her first years of being on the throne, & a desire to conform to others expectations of her ... it’s a perfect storm, whose origins can be traced directly to her choice to homage her childhood dress during her reappearance in hylian society. 

insecurity & fear feeds a lot of her choices in how she presents herself at the beginning of her reign. her body type is what some would call androgynous, others vaguely masculine - broad shoulders & small breasts which combine to give the illusion of her hips being narrower than they are, & she though she herself is content with that, she fears scorn by others because of it, so she works to minimize these features, & she plays up to feminity. her wardrobe primarily consists of dresses, gowns & robes, all loose fitting, all sleeved to at least the elbow, preferably in a style which leaves her biceps covered, & indistinct beneath the fabric. the gold pauldrons she wears as an adult feature in most, if not all, of her garments until her official coronation, seven years after ganondorf was sealed away - they provide her a measure of security, give her a regal appearance, & do a lot of heavy lifting, in conjunction with the sleeves of her gowns, to hide her shoulders & biceps, to the point where people are surprised at just how muscled she is when they come off - she hides the results, but even as queen, she still trains as she did when she was in hiding. most people are accepting of how she looks, but as is always the way, the few harsh comments she hears deafen her to the compliments - the only thing zelda wants, in the end, is for hyrule to recover, & for her people to thrive, & for that, she needs to be a good queen to them. to be a good queen, she must live up to their expectations. her attempts to live up to that via her appearance lead to her first breakdown, three months after her coronation.

it’s not just her appearance, of course - there’s enough stress to go around trying to get hyrule back on its feet again in a fair way, whilst trying to make her own mark as queen & live up to her parents’ peacekeeping legacy - but the nitpicking from a few members of her court, & the constant moving of goalposts as she attempts to satisfy their criticisms of her appearance, is the catalyst for her eventual declaration that she is done trying to satisy other people’s unreasonable explanations. the queenly mask she wears for other people’s benefit is suffocating her, so she decides to break it, & forge a new one. if she is going to be feminine, it is because she chooses to be, not because people expect her to be. if she wishes to dress as a man does, who can stop her ? if androgyny is what she feels, she will not deny herself. so, after a good cry, zelda does what every twenty-four year old going through a tough time does - she cuts her hair. she no longer tries to hide her body or disguise her frame. she is the queen, & the people will accept her as she is.

& most do ! hyrule has some strange looking people in it. a queen with a pixie cut is not the end of the world. she keeps it short for a good while, as a symbol of both her & hyrule’s fresh start, but eventually she begins to let it grow out again, with its length varying at ... well, various important points in her life. a short bob when she begins the programme to build new villages & settlements in hyrule. shoulder length when she begins courting to secure the throne for the future. waist length when she marries. she cuts it to above her shoulders once more when her first child is born, & keeps it mostly at that length until the end of her life, mostly for practical reasons. she was never ashamed of her body, before or after she became queen, as it was proof of her survival, but she became a lot more confident in herself as queen after she stopped letting other people, & her own well-intentioned, if misguided, fantasies of what a queen should look like dictate her life. that doesn’t mean to say that was that, every dark thought about her appearance swept away - there were days afterwards where she still despaired of her appearance, of the image she was projecting to others, of the judgements being passed on her & her country that came from her looks alone - but they were infrequent compared to the constant anxiety she felt about her appearance prior to the night she took a knife to her hair. they also weren’t enough to stop her from maintaining her physique, either - the training regime she began as a child continued into her late sixties, when she finally felt confident enough in the kingdom’s safety to stop, but the results of it meant that zelda was powerfully built through her whole life. even the birth of her children, which softened her body, couldn’t diminish much of her muscled appearance. shedding the weight of others opinions ( of her appearance, at least ) allowed her to stand tall until the end of her days. her body told the story of her life, & eventually, she was proud to let people see it.

[kusholofer]

Flamboyant

Photo by Haley Black from Pexels

Romantic | Short Story

kush o lofer

I have been in the cafe for the past half an hour, waiting for her. No she is not late, I was too soon. 16 o’clock, she said yesterday, I looked at the phone, there was still five minutes. 

As the time was approaching, my heart was beating faster and my breath deepened. I am among those boys who never talked to a girl in school, even in college. Nay not lame, :D  but never been on a date, so, yes, i am nervous.

I looked out of the glass window, I am in an entirely different world. This country is contrasting India, its people, its sparse crowd, its culture, unspoiled roads, quiet streets, its atmosphere, and its vicinity to nature. I like everything, everything except the weather. It was a bit too cold for me. It was just September and it was almost as cold as Delhi, in  December.

The door belled. I turned to the sound, it’s her. For a second, I thought to tuck under the table, that nervous I am,  idiot. I grinned on my gracelessness. I could feel every heartbeat, my heart was running like wild horses, and my breath... I tried to control my breath.

I stood and waved for her, she looked at me, she smiled, I am already smiling, almost grinning, idiot, at the same time trying not to look like an idiot.

The first thing I noticed were her lips, painted dark maroon. I stared at her lips till she was standing across the table. I blink and again to break my gaze.

‘Hi’, she said with curling up the corner of her maroon lips, a  smile.

‘Hi’ I conveyed the same, Controlling my breath not my heart.

She pulled her chair and we sat.

“You are a surprise”, she said.

“Pleasant, I assume” I commented.

Her smile widened.

“You are looking beautiful, elegant”, I emphasized the last word.

Now i notice, she was wearing a frock and  a shrug. A dark reddish-grey cowl on top of it, matching her lips, eh, her lips. With minimal touch-ups like dark mascara eyes and the bloodied lips. No accessories.

Simple, except the lips. Simple because I am on the opposite end of the spectrum.

“Thanks. And you are rather…” she paused, “different”, she said, tentatively.

“Oh!”, I raised my brows unable to understand, whether it is a compliment or contrary, ‘okay’.

“I mean in a good way”, she snapped.

“Ah! thank you”, i tilted my head as a bow.

She ordered a cappuccino and I ordered a latte.

“Actually, I was thinking the same thing. Our fashion sense is worlds apart. I am a bit of a poser in my dressing”.

She nodded, “you were right, you have that vibe”.

I raised my brows asking, “what vibe”.

“Boho! As you told me over a chat” she said, looking at my wrist.

I was wearing a thicket of  colorful threads on my left wrist and a few bracelets were dangling on my both wrists, left and right. Couple of beaded rosaries peeked out of my muffler, which was looped around my neck. And the two metal beads hanging from my beard. 

“On the other hand you are simple and so graceful”, i appreciated.

“Accessories encumber me, I like it simple”, she said.

“With a few highlights”, I added, trying to stare at her lips.

She smiled to concur, her smile widened, and grinned.

Then I realized that my index finger was rubbing my lower lip. I flinched, O dear!

She chuckled.

I didn’t do it consciously, it just happened. I am not a Romeo type, nor it was a sensual gesture or something. “Sorry”, I concisely shy away. I looked outside the window, I didn’t know what to say. I can sense her gaze on me, I turned back to her. She swiftly moved my gaze away from me and then back to me. We made eye contact for a second then we both shy away.

We stay silent for a few moments. Not making eye contact.

Breaking the awkward silence she spoke up, “can i ask you something”

“Obviously” 

“why you disappeared and then, here you are, suddenly reappeared”, she enquired.

“I am sorry, the first thing I should have done is to apologize for doing such a thing”.

She nodded, “You must have a reason, I understand. You can tell me” she said, but there is an assertion in her voice. 

I waited for her to say something more but she waited too, for my answer. “I can’t tell you, I am sorry”.

She nodded, “alright, then I am not accepting your apology”, she affirmed yet there is a mild smile on her face.

“Leila, I am not saying that I will not tell you it is just, tut, I can’t tell you right now but I will tell you.”

She shrugged, like saying, so be it that way, no problem.

We both silenced. Here is a problem, I know she is shy, so I am. We both waited for the other one to break the silence.

At last, after a minute or so, again she was the one who broke the silence. ‘What brings you here to Romania. Dracula, or something else.’

I almost chuckled and almost threw up my coffee but I resisted. “Yeah, a Dracula with dark eyes and bloodied lips who is ready to suck her coffee”.

She laughed, understanding my joke, that’s a relief. ‘“So, are you one of those minorities who don’t like Dracula”.

“Possibly. I would say, I like Vlad the impaler more than the Dracula”

“Then in a way you like Dracul” she stated

I nodded like I agreed but i didn’t even understand what she meant, so I asked, “how is that?”

“What?” 

“Why did you say, I like Dracula?”

“You just said you like Vlad” 

“Yes, Vlad the Impaler, not Vlad, the Dracula’, I clarified my point.

“Vlad’s last name was Dracula, from the House of Draculesti” she said, like it was so obvious.

Obviously not for me, not everyone is a student of history. “So you are saying Vlad the impaler is Vlad... Dracula”

“You don’t know that”, she sounded a little surprised. “Yes, his name was Vlad Dracula” she added.

‘So does Dracula mean vampire or...’, I asked, trying to hide my embarrassment.

“Dracula meant dragon in Romanian”.

“Ah!” I exclaimed, I don't know what to say next.

Another wall of silence. And again she was the one who broke it.

“Do you like to walk”

“I will love to”.

I called the waiter for the bill

“Sorry, I didn't ask if you are hungry”.

“No, I am okay”. “Split the bill” she said to the waiter, and then looked at me, maybe reading my reaction.

“No, no give me the bill”. I paid. “I hate splitting”, I paused, “I mean, can’t you, I, I mean I, sorry, I mean I. Can’t I pay your bill. I don’t split, even with friends.

“I agree”. She nodded.

“Yet you asked to split”, I shook, “even with my friends, either they pay the bill or I do”. I paused “And we are more than friends” I said, a bit hesitant, looking at her expression.

She blushed a little, or maybe I am just imagining things. “We are?” she asked as a question, jestiing or serious, I don't know.

“You know, my intentions. Since the first week”

“Do you know my?”

“No.” We both laughed.

We walked out of the cafe and strolled on the streets silently for a couple of minutes. I was still in awe of being in east Europe, Romania, Brasov.

The city is on par with modern technology, with a presence of medieval essence. The Dracula-themed hotels, restaurants, museums, and other structures are present here and there, all over the city and in its vicinity. As told by the locals, the whole Transylvania had a Dracula influence.

“Do you intend to remain quiet”, she shaded her eyes from the sunlight with her hands.

“Huh, I am just admiring the view and the walk with you,

The sun on your skin, you are glittering in,

Your open brunette hairs waving to your waist”,

I paused, and looked at her pair of lips,

“And, I loved your garnet lips”, I sighed “your lips, I want to caress them with my finger tips”.

She coy away with a smile. I sighed, I didn’t believe I said that. After a few breaths she turned to me, “that was beautiful, so you do poetry”.

“It flares, when I fall high”. Obviously I am not very poetic but as I said, high.

“And right now you are high on”, she asked.

“Someone”, I almost grinned.

“Flamboyant” she uttered softly. “Isn't a right advective”, she said, turning toward move forward.

Understanding her notion, still, I asked, “for”.

She looked at me, “someone”.

We wander on the street of Brasov, conversing in silence. I spoke my mind to her in silence, she spoke her mind to me in silence.

[buckylokistark]

Paintings ~ Part II

Summary: Loki fled his home, too tired of being the cause of his father’s constant disappointment. With help from Heimdall, he escapes to Midgard, the last place his father would look for him. In dire need of a job, he meets Y/N, a struggling artist trying to be recognised for her work. Can they help each other or are they holding one another back?

Masterlist

previously on Paintings: “Depends, are you Y/N?” You opened and closed your mouth a few times. Having recognised his face, you realise you were standing right in front of none other than Tony Stark, former CEO of Stark Industries and billionaire.

__________

“Uhm, huh- yes, yes I am. Pleased to meet you, sir.” You held out your hand for him to shake, trying to stop stumbling over your own words. Seriously, it’s English, what’s so hard about that?!

Tony Stark then took your hand, shaking it with a firm grip before releasing it and sitting back down. Wait, when did he get up?

“So, you’re making the new artwork?”

“Yup, that’s me, I’m the one.” God, you’re still acting like a fool. Get it together!

“So modern art is your niche?” You nodded. "And you’ll do any modern style?"

“Well, I focus on expressionism, although I am not bad when it comes to surrealism, for example Salvador Dali and his melting clocks. Kubism, abstract expressionism, acrylic, watercolour, I can do almost all expressionistic art forms with most materials.” You take on a proud tone, happy to talk art. This is where your comfort zone lies, your escape route, your go-to topic for a safe conversation. 

“You’re in luck, I want something expressionistic, never been one for surrealism. You had anything in mind?” He was completely down to let you handle anything, as long as he knew what 'anything' contains.

“Not really, I need to make a painting suitable for a person but also make it suitable for their home and perhaps other occupants of the room. Would you rather we schedule a time for me to come take a look or do you want to email me some photos?” You got out your agenda, having always preffered writing things down instead of typing. It might have something to do with forgetting typed things, only remembering them when on paper.

“I think a visit would be better, right? Makes you get a feel of the room, the space, a more in-depth experience for a better result.” He was just grasping at ideas now, sipping his coffee calmly and leaning back in his chair.

“Hmm, yeah, you’re right, but some people are too busy or aren’t comfortable in letting me in their house so they email me.” It was indeed more difficult, but they weren't comfortable so you just had to work with what you had.

"Not to sound like an absolute douchebag, but my team did a background check and everything, they wouldn't let me just choose someone, they had to check them thoroughly. You're very lucky, by the way. I had to persuade them to let you do your thing. I believe you know what part made them doubt you?" You did know what he was talking about, and shame filled you to the brim.

About twelve years ago, you had an enormous fall-out with your family, resulting in them sabotaging your income by spreading awful rumours about you. Your income did decline drastically, making you nearly bankrupt. In the desperate need of money, you ended up working for Strak Industries, a company solely focused on copying and faking Stark Industrie products. From securitysystems and phones to merchandise, everything was copied. You got a job of replicating the stuffed animals as close as you could get with cheaper materials. The pay wasn't great but it got you back on your feet, ready to continue painting. Stark Industries and Strak Industries got in a huge fight, legal authorities getting involved. Because you had workes your way up to manager of the production of all the stuffed animals, you were put in a bad spot.

"yeah, sorry, I was on the brink of losing everything," you ended up saying, cursing yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. "losing everything?!" You could've said anything and you chose that?

Stark gave you a look, but thankfully didn't comment on the words.

"So, when do you want me to come by? I would prefer as soon as possible, but it's up to you." He opened his phone, looking on his agenda for a possible date. Scratching his goatee lightly, he pursed his lips before sighing and saying, "Would coming thursday work? Two days away?"

"Yes, absolutely. Any time in mind? Perhaps early morning or afternoon?"

Stark tought for a moment, excusing himself to look more thoroughly on his phone to see when he'd have time.

“How about 5 o’clock in the afternoon? would that work for you?" He tilted his head, eyes so intense it seemed as if they were looking right through you.

After finetuning the details, you finished talking and drove back to the shop, cursing yourself for taking so long.

Soon you arrived at your atelier, seeing Loki through the glass window reading a book.

You smiled to yourself. Loki was the kindest soul you've met in your life, gentle and soft like nobody else could ever be. It made you wonder if there was a possibility for something more. something intimate.

a crow, as black as the night, flew past, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your eyes followed the black bird before wandering back to the shop. Finally you moved, slowly walking towards the entrance.

the bell above the door jingled softly, letting Loki know someone entered. He looked up and smiled, slowly closing his book and moving towards you with so much grace it was impossible to look away. 

“Hi Loki, I got to go, still need to finish that two window piece for Mrs. Barton and the final sketch for the mural that one woman, what’s-her-name, wanted. The blue, winter, ice-y vibe?” You rushed to the back of your shop, throwing your bags in a corner and running up the stairs to put on your older clothes, the ones that were allowed to get a bit of paint on them.

“The woman’s called Idina Menzel, the one who voices the lead character in that new movie, Frozen?” Loki has listened to you praise the trailers with such emotion, he took it up himself and researched the main characters, discovering that the woman who ordered a mural two weeks ago from your shop. The mural made more sense now, as well. 

The words Loki spoke made you halt. Lead character in Frozen? She asked you, a small, unexperienced artist, to paint a mural for her? A smile began to grow on your face. Spinning around, you ran back to Loki. 

“Oh my- she- she ‘s famous and bought something from me? This is huge! I will be known by a few circles of famous people now that Tony Stark and Idina Menzel ordered from me! Do you understand what this means? I can finally get recognised for my work, I can finally earn enough to buy my own place!” You barrelled full force into Loki, hugging him close. Loki himself slowly hugged back, unsure of what exactly to do. 

Loki smiled. You were happier than you’ve veer been all year, even with the stress of performing good for famous people. Lost in his thoughts, Loki looked out the window. A black raven sat on the little bench across the street, looking right at him. No, he thought with a shock as his eyes grew large, not an ordinary black raven. This little bird was Diaval, loyal assistant to Maleficent, Loki’s distant relative. What is he doing here? 

“Loki? Is something wrong?” His eyes flew back to yours when your words registered in his head. 

“No, love, nothing’s wrong. I just realised I forgot to do something, could I be excused for a bit so I can go home and finish it?” He glanced outside, seeing Diaval still sitting there, quietly waiting. You let go of him, nodding your head.

“Of course you can, no problem. I got nothing planned for the rest of the day so the shop won’t be empty, you’re free to go.” With that, you hugged him one ast time, saying a quick goodbye before turning around and walking to your current project. One last look and wave, and Loki was out the door. 

“Where is she, Diaval?” The raven flew to the right, landing in a small alley and morphing back to human. 

“This way, she’s bought a new place down in Queens when she heard you were staying here.” Loki groaned. Ever since they found out about each other, Maleficent started acting as his big sister, watching all his moves like a hawk.

He followed Diaval into the alleyway, preparing for the inevitable Apparition he had to make. 

“Alright, name the address, I’ll take us there,” Loki said, making his disdain clear in his voice. Diaval rattled the location, and off they were.

“Where are we?”

“The back of the diner a block away from your house, she put anti-Apparition-wards up, didn’t she?” At the last part, Diaval sheepishly nodded his head.

"Hello Loki."

"Maleficent." As was expected, Maleficent looked as stunning as the gods themselves, flaunting her body with a black. Maybe it was a family thing?

"I have come here to talk to you about important matters." As the words left Maleficent’s mouth, Loki's eyes flicked to hers. Important matters? With her resources it must be life-threatening to come to him for assistance.

"There have been... unusual sightings in Europe. It appears to be a form of magic, more powerful than I have ever seen in my entire life."

"You have any leads on the exact location?" 

"It seems to be traveling. I have people running tabs on it. It started in England, then went off the radar for a while before reappearing in France, where it travelled through Belgium, into Holland. They're travelling east, getting closer to Germany as we speak."

What could there be in Germany, the northern part of it, that would be attractive to someone who possesses magic? You got the big cities, Dusseldorf, Berlin, maybe Hamburg? Or perhaps...

"Cologne. They're heading for Cologne." Maleficent looked at him weirdly. 

"Why would they go to Cologne?"

"I visited this woman, truly magnificent, who took care of all mutants from Holland, Belgium and Germany. The school of Xavier was too expensive and small for mainland Europeans, so I helped set it up just outside the city," Loki admitted with a sigh. He had hoped to never see her again, one time was more than enough and he doesn’t know how she’ll react to him suddenly appearing out of nowhere after leaving her alone for eighty years.

__________

Taglist: @birdgirl90 @lunawitch19 @bird-with-pencils @shesakillerkween

[its-jwang2017]

Part 1: Property Damage and Raising Taxes

A hush fell over the gym as Jackson and his opponent took their starting stances on opposite sides of the mat. At this point, with ten seconds left, there was no question that Jackson would take home the first-place trophy. With the other contender four points behind, Jackson felt confident in his ability to defend against the upcoming attacks and mentally prepared himself to push for another point to end the match. He could feel the stares of the audience members to the right of him and the judge's keen eyes to his left. His teammate's cheers and shouts of encouragement were a dull roar in Jackson's ears, with his focus solely on the barley perceptible shifts of his opponent's body. As it were, the other seemed to favor his left side to which Jackson adjusted his offensive strategy accordingly. As hot as the gymnasium was, Jackson could barely feel anything except the weight of the sabre in his hand. 

A flash of red registered in Jackson's peripheral and he let a small smile grace his face under his helmet. Mark had finally arrived and took up his usual front row spot on the bleachers.

Just in time to see me win

As the ref signaled for quiet in the gym and the area was silent once more, a faint rumbling sound could be heard coming from beyond the walls of the room. A murmur broke out amongt the crowd members and just as the ref was about to start what should have been the last round of the tournament, the wall behind the judges table blew inwards. Concrete, drywall, and floorboards went flying in all directions, the force of the blast knocking the people nearest off their feet with the judges getting the brunt of the pressure.All of this registered a second too late for Jackson, who was woefully unprepared to be sent flying just as he was about to attack. A startled shout involuntarily left his lips as Jackson was sent careening through the air, headfirst towards the smooth, wooden floor.Honestly, I should have seen this coming was Jackson's last thought as his head made contact with the floor's wood paneling and the world went black.

________________________________________________________________

Jackson is going to be so pissed! Mark thought to himself as he flew towards the direction of the recreation center where his best friend's match was held. He had just finished with a minor robbery in the Rogers Park area when he realized how extraordinarily late he was. His cardinal red super-suit was a stark contrast to the blue sky above him and the speed at which he flew made his hair stick back against his head. A black mask protected his eyes against the pressure of the wind, allowing him to search the neighborhoods quickly for the familiar sports complex below. As he weaved in and out of the high rises of Chicago, he quickly checked his watch. Realizing the match was almost over, Mark desperately increased his speed, dangerously close to flying into a band of pigeons along the way.

Finally, Mark spotted the familiar sign "Halas Sport Center" after flying for what seemed like an eternity. The Loyola facility was a welcomed sight and Mark quickly landed in a nearby alley, hidden from traffic cameras and people's perspectives. From behind a garbage can, with a flick of his wrist, his superhero costume molded back under his skin and in its place, his civilians' clothes reappeared. As Mark rushed out of the alley, to anyone's eyes, he was just another college student making a mad dash through the city.

Jogging up the steps to the gym, Mark quickly adjusted his navy blue, JYP Prep t-shirt and black, ripped jeans. His hair was a lost cause, but Mark tried to adjust his red locks into an "overslept bedhead" look instead of a "long haired dog with his head out of the window" vibe.

"Mark-hyung! You're so late! Jackson-hyung is almost done with his match!" The receptionist yells as soon as he sees Mark walk through the doors. Upon seeing Mark's startled expression, the receptionist rolls his eyes and gestures down the hallway on Mark's left. "Down this hall, on your left! Maybe you'll see the last couple of seconds."

Spurred on by the receptionists commanding tone, Mark takes off down the hall, throwing a "Thank you!" over his shoulder as he rushes to the tournament. The familiarity of the kid at the front jogged a faint memory. Were they in the same Korean class? Probably, since the kid used honorifics to address Mark. What was his name? Jin-something?

With a shake of his head, Mark dispels the nagging thoughts from his head and races towards his destination.

A couple of heads turn towards him as he bursts through the doors of the gym, but he notices that most of the people's attention is directed at the two players in the center of the room. Internally, Mark thanks every deity he can think of that he didn't disrupt Jackson's focus and entered before the next round begun. Luckily, there are enough people in the audience to provide a buffer for Mark's abrupt entrance. Quickly, Mark takes his seat at the front and center of the bleachers, with only a few people grumbling at him as he walks by. Just as he reads the point counter displaying "Wang: 14, Rodgers 10" in proud, red lights, the wall blows in.

Time moves slower after that. Mark stares in horrified fascination as the judges, gym equipment, and tournament displays are sent head-over-heels through the air. Dust, debris and rubble begin creating a smokey atmosphere in the once pristine area, while the coaches and fencing teams are roughly shoved to the ground. Mark can do nothing but watch as Jackson is catapulted into the air with a terrified shout, and the sound of his head hitting the ground creating a sick feeling in the pit of Mark's stomach. He feels the pressure of the air hit him and the rest of the audience, pinning them all against the steel seats for a brief moment.  He registers all this right as two shadows step through the dust elicited from the blast in tandem with the beginnings of the screams of the civilians.

With people running every which way, the injured either screaming on the ground or knocked out on the floor, Mark begins his tactical reconnaissance to find the best way to control the situation. Jackson's unconscious form and the gaping hole in the far wall does nothing for Mark's anxiety, but he tries his best to put his emotions behind him.

First order of business: Suit up! Mark thinks as he joins the throngs of people racing for the exit. For now, he is not in a place to help people escape. Every second not suiting up leads to more casualties in the future (as Mark learned the hard way). He tries his best not to get pushed around by the swarm of fleeing people and, once out of the gym, ducks into the nearest doorway he sees. Conveniently, he finds himself in an empty bathroom. Racing into one of the stalls and locking the door, he takes a deep breath (which he immediately regrets. God, why are people so gross in America?) and lets his clothes mold back into his skin. The fabric is soon replaced by his super suit, covering him from neck to feet, with the white letters "RD" emblazoned on his chest. His mask drops over his eyes, encompassing most of his face with the exception of his mouth and chin. Once the transition is complete, he races out of the stall...

And freezes once he sees two girls, who were definitely not there before, huddled into the corner. As their eyes widen in shock and their mouths drop open in preparation to scream, Mark quickly puts his finger to his lips.

"Shhhhh! Don't scream! You're fine, we're fine! I am so sorry; I didn't notice this was even the girl's bathroom!" Mark whisper yells, making the calm-down motion with his hands as the girls look on in shock at the superhero standing before them. After a few seconds of radio silence from the traumatized individuals, Mark awkwardly takes a few steps towards the door. "You should probably, definitely get out of here because there are villains outside and this whole building might collapse. So unless you want to transport yourself into the second dimension, I suggest you run before you get crushed!" Mark's comment seems to put the girls in motion, quickly getting up from their position on the ground and racing out of the door.

Mark breathes a sigh of relief as the door closes behind the two civilians. I have legitimately never been more embarrassed in my life. Mark tries to shrug the embarrassment out of his body as he rushes out of the bathroom and towards the villains in the gymnasium.

________________________________________________________________For the second time that day, Mark is suited up; except this time, he's actually going to be fighting instead of "irresponsibly using his powers for personal gain" as Jackson would so often tease him for (this teasing was usually followed by Jackson begging Mark to fly him to Asia.

'Mark! Think of all of the hot people we could pick up over there!'

'Jackson... I'm pretty sure both here and there your flirting skills are sub-par at best. You'd have to go to an island of uncivilized cavemen to find someone who would date you.’

'... Why are we friends again?')

Once at the door of the gym, Mark tries to subtly peak through the glass window to see into the room. He quickly scans the facility, seeing an assortment of people on the ground, some covered in blood, others with dust and some with both. He spots Jackson laying on his side, his white fencing helmet tinted red around his head from the impact against the floor. His blood goes cold when he sees that his best friend still isn't moving, his chest barely rising and falling.

Why didn't I see this coming? I should have been faster, I should have been better... The self-deprecating thoughts attack his mind, but Mark quickly shuts them out. Save it for after the fight.

A movement to the left of Jack son catches Marks attention, and he sees the two figures standing scarily close to the fencer. Their entire bodies were covered with  matte black armored suits, with the seams glowing a faint white through the dust that was still shrouding the room. Their motorcycle-esque helmets made their faces indistinguishable, but Mark recognized their outfits immediately; Dark Soul and Project J. He observes as Dark Soul gestures wildly in Jackson's general direction, his hands glowing a faint blue, while Project J crosses his arms in a ... judgmental way? With his enhanced hearing, Mark picks up the tail end of their apparent argument.

"...too big! I told you he would get knocked out!" Dark Soul yells at his partner, worriedly pacing back and forth around Jackson's prone form."You said you wanted to blow down the wall, so that's what I did! I used the correct amount of force and pressure distribution to create a hole in the wall so that we could enter in from the outside. You were the one who decided to make a dramatic entrance, not me! I said we should walk into the building, like normal people, but NOOOOOO, you wanted to be extra and make our own entrance." Project J exclaimed, crossing his arms and seeming to challenge the other to try and correct him. Dark Soul throws up his hands and makes an aggravated noise. 

"That was only because YOU wanted to test out your new device! 'It'll make chaos so much easier!' you said. 'Blow peoples minds' you said. Well, you almost blew everyone's minds OUT, so congratulations, you made that dream come true!" Project J scoffed as Dark Soul berated him, dropping his arms to his sides and allowing Mark to get a glimpse at the object in the other's hand.

"This ray gun has multiple settings and can do so much more than generate a concentrated, sonic blast! It will blow people's minds... with a few more tweaks to make it more of a metaphorical 'blown' instead of physical." Mark watches as Project J fiddles with what looked like the settings on the ray gun's side. At first glance, the gun looked like a handheld, silver water pistol with a clear barrel containing a glowing orange goo.

Must be a power source...

With that thought in mind, Mark continues surveying the scene, searching for any other tricks Project J might have in store. The two villains voices become fainter, and Mark turns just in time to see Dark Soul bending down towards Jackson, reaching his still glowing hand out to him.

Not on my watch! Mark thought to himself. With a huge kick aimed at the doors, Mark burst through the entryway, making Dark Soul jump away from Jackson in shock. With just a though, Mark rises slowly into the air in front of the two dark suited people before him.

"You should know by now not to mess with my city or my friends." Mark drawls out as his hands light up in flames. Project J quickly hostlers his weapon and levitates himself into the air to meet Mark, while Dark Soul charges up his suit until it starts pulsing a pure, glowing white energy at it's seams.  

"You should've expected this, Red Dragon. We've behaved for about a week and we got tired of playing nice." Dark Soul aims his glowing hands at the superhero before him, taking a quick glance around him before refocusing his attention towards the superhero.

With his fire spreading up to his elbows, Mark tries to quickly calculate the best way to lure the villainous duo outside, protect the civilians and make sure that Jackson isn't kidnapped (again). He hesitates just a bit too long and Dark Soul hits him with his blue, electrified energy orbs. The impact to his chest sends him flying back into the wall, creating a crater with spiderweb cracks around the edges. In a daze, Mark extracts himself from the impact zone and quickly dodges the oncoming blow from Project J, Mark's head barely escaping the incoming fist fist. Mark flies a safe distance away from the other and watches with a faint sense of horror as the spiderweb cracks get even bigger surrounding the impact of Project J's failed attack.

This whole section of the building is gonna go down; with this realization, Mark decided it was high time that they took this fight outside.

"Gentlemen, I don't know about you all, but I think it's getting a bit stuffy in here. How about we take this outside for a nice breather, hmmm?" And with that, Mark aimed a fireball at each of the villains, missing Project J but hitting Dark Soul right in the face. Dark Soul crumbled to the ground while Project J flew right at Mark.

CrapCrapCrapCrapCrap became Mark's internal mantra as he flew towards the villains self-created entryway, zooming out towards the city with Project J right at his heels. Mark felt the tug of Project J's telekinetic abilities at his boots, so he pushed himself to fly faster, arcing over Loyola campus and heading east towards the lake. Within seconds, Red Dragon and Project J faced each other, both hovering a couple of feet above the rolling waves of Lake Michigan. Mark could see college students starting to gather around the edge of the lake, eager to watch the battle take place with their phones out videotaping the encounter. Mark didn't hear any loud crumbling sound of a building collapsing, and he sent a tiny prayer that the gym could support itself long enough for Mark to defeat his foe.

Alright, let's settle this, Mark thought inwardly as he prepared himself for battle.

"Do we always have to meet like this," Mark called out to Project J, "You, with your mind powers, me with my dragon powers. You and Dark Soul, creating chaos and destruction, me fighting you both and defeating you all every single time. Don't you get tired of losing?"

Instead of responding, Project J extended his hand out towards the crowd. Suddenly, a huge boulder came flying out of the ground, knocking students off their feet. Twisting his body, Mark evaded the boulder, sending a fire blast Project J's way. Soon enough, they were exchanging blow after blow, each trying to knock the other down into the water. Once Mark felt the tug of Project J's telekinetic abilities, he would aim a blast of fire at the villain in order to break his concentration. What Mark, unfortunately, didn't realize, was that Project J was tactically creating a pile of rocks, trees, and other various objects underneath the water from where their battle was being held. While Mark was concentrating on breaking Project J's hold on the various physical objects he was throwing, Project J used this as a chance to launch a surprise attack on an unsuspecting Mark. He gathered all the matter he had collected during the battle and molded the various components into a giant fist. Rising the form up out of the water, Project J aimed the giant fist at Red Dragon, who realized too late what he allowed Project J to do.

The amalgamation of objects hit Red Dragon square in the midriff, projecting him straight into the lake. With the combined force of Project J's attack and the impact of his body against the water, Mark's last comprehensible thought became Well, at least my hair won't look as crazy... as his body sank towards the bottom and his mind went blank.

________________________________________________________________(Back at the gym)

Dark Soul woke up with a burning pain in his chest and hearing the creak of what sounded like an ancient house getting buffered by the wind. He slowly opened his eyes, his memories coming back to him piece by piece. He was spread eagle on the floor of the gym, The gym we were targeting, He thought to himself. The burning pain in his chest was not heart burn (Take that, Project J! I eat healthy... sometimes...) but was from Red Dragon's fire blast. Using his arms to push himself into a sitting position, Dark Soul inspected his suit. Aside from a few singe marks, the updated suit looked like it took the damage well. Internally, Dark Soul thanked Project J for updating their armor as he surveyed the damage around him. The ancient creaking was not, in fact, the noise of an archaic building, but was an indicator of the inevitable collapse of the facility he was currently in. Dark Soul glanced behind him and watched with an amused smile as the crater's outer cracks slowly expands. 

If the hole in the wall is my fault, then the crater in the wall is yours, Dark soul thought to himself maneuvering up to a standing position with a wince. He took note of all of the people on the floor around him, most of whom were fencers, coaches, refs and judges that were all primarily impacted by the blast. Feeling a small pang of regret, Dark Soul finally, he allowed himself to check over (not check out...) Jackson Wang, the always-a-damsel in distress.

Even though the name implies a certain element of heartlessness, Dark Soul was actually very wary of hurting any civilian. He and Project J made an effort to attack places with low amounts of pedestrians in attendance, with one of them battling the hero while the other made off with either the "damsel", their main target, or both. If they were ever near a highly populated zone, they would make the conscious move to push their battles towards either the lake or an open area.

The situation they were in now, however, was mostly accidental. Neither villain had the urge to create chaos that day, but somehow, chaos found them all by itself. 

That stupid ray gun is to blame...

Nobody would believe the pair if they claimed this catastrophe was an accident. Project J didn't mean to forget that his ray gun was in his bag before he headed off to school. All it took was a quick trip and a fall for the ray gun to activate through his backpack. Luckily, the gun was aimed away from Project J. Unluckily, it hit the sports facility that Project J just happened to be walking by on his way to school. For a genius, he can sure act dumb sometimes. 

All of their lives, the pair were told that they were never good enough, never smart enough, and that they would always be the bad guys.No matter what they did or what they said, they discovered they could never change somebody's perspective of their character. Instead of rejecting their path to evil, they decided to band together and accept the role that others projected onto them.

Not that they didn't naturally enjoy chaos, but it's isn't easy being the villain 24/7.

 Shoving the past memories away, not allowing them to settle in, Dark Soul began approaching the unconscious Jackson Wang, setting a timer in the back of his mind of when he predicted that the building would collapse. An unsettled feeling curled in his abdomen when he noticed the blood soaking through the fencer's protective headgear, and he carefully removed the helmet in order to see the damage.

As Dark Soul cradled Jackson's head in his lap (you know... to make sure he didn't have brain damage...) he heard Project J touch down in front of him.

"Woooooooow. While I'm battling for my life against Red Dragon, you're tenderly nursing sleeping beauty out of a coma. Figures." Project J exclaims sarcastically, turning on his heel and beginning the process of levitating the unconscious bodies of civilians out of the building.

Dark Soul glowers back at Project J under his black tinted helmet, "I was checking over all of the civilians!"

"Dude, just admit you're whipped and lets go. I knocked out Red Dragon into the lake," Project J waves away Dark Soul's panicked look at the news, "and before you start, I retrieved his unconscious body and dumped him on a beach somewhere so when he wakes up, he'll think he just watched ashore. And no, no one saw me either."

Dark Soul huffs, gathering Jackson in his arms bridal style, "It's creepy how you always know what I want to say. Sometimes, I think you're a mind reader instead of a telekinetic."

As the two villains exit the building through the hole in the wall, unconscious floating civilians in tow, the building gives one final groan as the walls collapse inwards. Project J looks towards the building in dismay as he gently sets the people down onto the ground outside, "My taxes are gonna be through the roof if we keep knocking over buildings like this."

Dark soul hums in agreement as he feels the pull of Project J's telekinesis around his suit, lifting them both up into the air and away from the remains of the building below. "We should be expecting Red Dragon to come after us since we have the damsel again. Commence operation; Downed Dragon."

*wow! First chapter! I barely know a thing about fencing but I tried my darndest to make it believable. I wanted to focus more on the hero vs villain relationship in this chapter, but not to worry, a lot more of jackson in the next one! Hopefully I can fit some of the other members in as well. Not all at once, but eventually. I have a plan for this story, but it isn't concrete. If I missed any details or you want a sidebar story based on this chapter, please leave comments! I like practicing writing so i'll be happy to fulfill requests.As always, any spelling errors or incorrect phrases, let me know!*

[labbaik-ya-hussain-as]

*17th Muharram*

Ashra e Sani 2021

Slogans of Martyrs

Majlis 06 - QBZ

*Dr. Mahjabeen Dhala*

May Allah accept your efforts. It is a place of gratitude, we need to thank Allah (SWT) for every day, for every moment that we can partake in the azaa. Alhamdulillah, Bibi has kept us in this forum with your messages of love and pain for Imam Hussain (as). Sometimes I think it is enough to present marthiya. Bibi must be pleased with your presentations.

But *commemorating Karbala is more than commemorating the past*, it’s not just re-visiting the past; it is also about me seeing myself in this present moment.

*It’s like a mirror. I am looking at myself in the mirror of Ashura and asking myself, where do I fall short.* Are there things that I can resonate with the mission of Karbala.

I am able to see a reflection of Karbala and help it grow in my life.

I will have something meaningful to present to my Bibi on the Day of Judgment. This is our niyyat to attend the majlis. *What can I take and be able to work on in my life. It’s not just a commemoration of the past, but it is also connecting our future and our present to this past and developing it in the light of this past of Karbala*. I am happy to share these reflections with you.

We are exploring this topic in the hopes that some of the love of the companions can rub off on us as their level was so high. These reminders are needed. We are looking at the rajaz of these companions with whom we can relate to. If they had that audacity until their end, then I should be able to emulate something from their last words. These are not personal words they have shared about themselves; rather, they are leaving a message for us that is inspirational for us.

We saw Abu Thamama Sa’idi; Anas ibn Harith who were older, when they were martyred. *Imam Hussain gave a dua: May Allah give you gratitude for your sacrifices*.

these are strong words from the Imam, not ordinary words from an ordinary person.

Then we looked at Habib ibn Mazaher.

Yesterday, we looked at Nafi’ ibn Hilal. We spent much time discussing things about him and his life and didn’t spend too much time on his rajaz. There was so much to gain and ponder over from Nafi’, especially the notion of respecting our resources. He had 12 arrows and inscribed his name in each arrow to pay respect to his resources and Allah granted success to each arrow in striking an enemy.

*Nafi's words are so inspirational that we need to reflect.*

Today we will delve deeper in this notion of *love and hate: Tawala and Tabara.*

Shia identity is defined. He says “My religion is the religion of Hussain and the religion of Ali”.

*Love and hate are very necessary. If you want to love fully, then you have to understand what not to love.*

Many people are averse to hate. But if you want to love fully, then you have to know what not to love.

5th Imam’s famous words:

_*Is deen anything but love.*_

To be deendar is to be in love. There is a strong connection between religion and love.

4th Imam says in one of his dua’s of Sahifa Sajjadiya: *Oh Allah, I am asking you for your love and to create love in my heart to those you love and to love the deeds that connect with your love.*

• Again, can I say I love Imam Hussain and then not want to pray;

• Can I say I love Hz. Abbas but I don’t love wafa, loyalty is a bit too much of a commitment.

• Can I do that or is this paradoxical?

So, there are 3 sections in the prayer by Imam Sajjad:  

1. We have love for Allah

2. We have love for those who love Allah

3. We have love for those actions that brings me closer to Allah's love.

*So love cannot just be lip service.* It’s not just Allah, I love you.

It cannot be just on my tongue.

*It has to be in aqida (beliefs) and amal (actions/ deeds).*

So in our beliefs, we see : _La ilaha ilal-laah_.

This is tabarra: there is no one else except Allah. In Surah YaSeen, Quran reminds us don’t go towards Shaitaan, he is our open enemy and to follow Allah: Siratul Mustaqeem. *This tells us that Shaitaan is our enemy, so to hate/ stay away from him and to love/ follow Allah.*

Love is absolutely an expression and our belief is based on love:

• Wilayah is love and

• Our amal is love and hate: love what the lovers of Allah want and hate what the lovers of Allah despise. 

Another aspect of love & hate is that we need to be particular.

*We must identify who /what to love & hate*. It is crucial to identify who I love and hate. Sometimes we use the terms love and hate very matter-of-factly. Like I love that sports player or I hate that restaurant. We need to be very mindful to identify who to love and hate as noted in the hadith of Rasululaah.

A man comes to Rasululaah and asks: When will the day of Judgment be?

(Sometimes we have the question: when will the 12th Imam reappear?) So this man had this question he posed to Rasululaah of when will it be the day of judgment.

Rasulullah answers: *Whenever it will be the day of judgment, are you ready for that day?* What is more important is your readiness regardless of when it happens.

This is something for us to think about this readiness aspect and apply it to the day of judgment as well as to the reappearance of the 12th Imam.

It is unknown when and not really that important; the more crucial question is: *Am I ready?*

So that man said: He had a lot of things to complete and a lot of isteghfar and pending namaz.

So, Rasulullah asked him: What he has prepared and why he keeps asking about the day of judgment if he has not prepared himself. If tomorrow is Qiyamat or you are told Qiyamat is tomorrow, then what have you prepared.

The man responded: I have love for you.

He says that he might fall short on deeds, but he would be proud to tell Allah that he loves and is a lover of Rasulullah.

Rasulullah said : He needed to have deeds with that love and

The man said:  He is trying with the deeds but with confidence and pride he has in his heart the love of Rasulullah.

At that moment, Rasululaah said a very important statement:

*Every person will be connected with whom he loves but then the love for us means that your deeds must be aligned with my love.*

I find it hopeful that if I die today and the angels tell me that I have so many deeds pending and asked what I have brought to present to Allah, I will be able to say: *I am absolutely in love with Allah. Yes, I am falling short and I tried, but I love Rasulullah.*

Identifying Rasulullah as the one I love will be my saving grace as whomever or whatever I love, is what I will be connected to. This is why we spend so much time and effort inculcating the love of Wilayah: Love of Imam Ali to keep reminding my true love is here with Rasulullah and Ahle-bayt.

*My true love is with them not with my spouse or children or parents or position in life. My true love is with my Mawla.*

All of those things noted: spouse, children, parents, position in life. These are all important and become the way in which I can make that love come alive, through respect of spouse, children, parents and being conscientious of my position in life. These are all extensions of my love for Rasululaah and Ahle-bayt as they taught us how to be in our life.

These are ways that I can show my love:

• Spend in the way of Allah,

• Respect my spouse and parents,

• Raise my children in the proper tarbiyat.

These are all ways, but they are not my true love. My true love needs to be somewhere else as this hadith tells us to identify who I love.

*This hadith also tells us who to hate, so I hate for the sake of my Mawla, not my personal problems with people.*

At the end of the day, that person will be crying for the Imam. I can’t hate them because at the end of day, we love and hate the same people. This matter of love and hate impacts every aspect of our life. 

6th Imam said, on his deathbed, while he is dying, he said:

*If you love us then be a source of pride and not embarrassment for us*.

Then he says we cannot intercede for one who is heedless of namaz.

7th Imam said : *A person is not from us who does not respectfully talk to women.*

There was a guy who used to live in Baghdad who was renting a room in a woman’s home as he is on a business trip and while in that house, he had bad intentions and looked at her inappropriately while he was living in the house. He proposed to the woman and she declined saying she wasn’t interested in marrying. Then he tries to seduce her and she notes she is not interested. One day, when they were sharing the same space, he tried to touch her and talked to her in a way that was suggestive /attempting to seduce her and she pulled away. The man goes to visit the 7th Imam and the Imam tells him: One cannot be from the Shia who is disrespectful to women and the man understood the saying of his bad behavior.

For us women, it is important that we wear our hijab and carry ourselves in a manner that is not suggestive or promiscuous. 

Another hadith from the 7th Imam: *Those who say something and do something else are not from among our Shia*.

In the Qur’an there is also a question posed:

*Why do you say that which you do not do.*

So, it is important to be consistent, sincere and genuine.

Know that there are MANY hadith that describe what it means to be a shia. For today, the last hadith to share upon this idea of love & hate, let me share a hadith from the 6th Imam. He shares *3 categories of lovers.*

*1. Those who publicly show they love us and then forget about us in private.* When no one sees what you are seeing or looking at or hears what you are hearing or listening to, at that time, I remember I am a lover of Mawla. It is a personal matter. I can choose what to see or hear, if it is inappropriate, I can choose to not look or listen. This is also something that can guide us on social media. What do I watch or read and what do I post or comment I leave. This notion grounds us and provides guidance.

*2. Those who love us are the same in public and private*. Sometimes, it is hard to do things publicly that we are comfortable doing in private. Like I cry in private, why do I need to do it publicly. It is true we cannot judge someone’s level of love based on how much or how loud one grieves in majlis-e-aza. Sometimes, when people give charity, they don’t want their names to be associated with the donation and yet sometimes it is important to name the donor to inspire others to also donate.

An example from Imam’s life: People say to the 5th Imam, we like to go ibadat in a group and ask is this riya? Is it better for me to not join a congregational deed that is public, like a rally, congregational prayer, a group doing matam /majlis?

Imam gives a response that asks them to reflect through a question: *If this congregational act was not happening publicly, would you still do it?* Meaning if there was no congregational prayer, would you not pray? If there was no group, would you not do majlis? If there is no group, would you not protest? The people responded and said that whether there was a group or there wasn’t a group doing whatever action (pray, protest, azadari, etc.), their loyalty and actions would be the same. If there was no congregational prayer, they would still be praying on time; if it is Ashura day, whether there is a gathering or not, they would commemorate Ashura.

Then Imam then says it is not riya. The vibes of doing something in a group/ congregational setting are different, there is a different energy. *If you are doing something for the action itself and not because of the group, then joining the group is not riya*. In fact, sometimes it is necessary to give that vibe to others. Sometimes just being with a group gives you energy and maybe even makes you feel better to be around others.  

*3. Those whose wilayah /love is constant for us, whether in public or private*. Whether they have money or not, whether they have health or not, it doesn’t matter as their love for us is constant. *These are people who are a blessing in life*. This is also very rare.

When Imam Ali was told to rise up and fight, he told people to shave their heads and come with their kafan and if only 40 people would turn up then Imam Ali would rise up and fight. Hardly 7 or 8 people showed up.

During Imam Sajjad’s time, he noted he didn’t even have 20 Shia.

For our 12th Imam, there are not enough Shia. This is an embarrassing point that there are not enough people to support 12th Imam which is why he has not reappeared.

It is an important discussion: to define what is love & hate; to define who to love & hate; and to apply that love & hate into our practical lives. These are all heavy notions, easier said than done. A tall order to live up to. We pray Allah helps us to grow. Ameen.

We want to remember the journey of the captive women and children. Up until now, I have not even gotten to talk about Kufa because there were so many atrocities the women had to endure beginning with asr-e-Ashura, Shame Ghariba, the morning of the 11th of Muharram, the day of the 11th Muharram. We needed to pause at each musibat and give it its due to feel that musibat.

I am concentrating on those events. We easily talk about the time when the tents were burned during Shame Ghariba. Think of a fire alarm, when that loud noise goes off, we get flustered. We can’t even think of what is going on let alone what we should do. We are in a frenzy. All these reactions happen when there is an alarm, even if there isn’t any smoke or flames. Imagine Shame Ghariba: there were no alarms, no warnings, just flames burning things all around. Actual fire and actual burning. What state were the women and children experiencing. They didn’t get any warning. The women were in such a state of shock, they could barely accept their loved ones were dead and had just witnessed the severed heads being placed on the spears. One trauma after another and now this fire, and not only the fire, but with the fire are na-mahram men in their place of what used to be their private residence. For us, when we are home, and there is a knock on the door, the first thing we scramble for is our hijab. Those women were ale of Rasul and these men were nasty and were their to loot them. Not only that, they snatch the chador of the women, what should the women do. Who do they protect: the children, help the other women, their things or their own chadors. They didn’t care about their things, but when it came to their chadors, they did not let it go so easily. They resisted, some even put the cloth of their chadors between their teeth to help secure and hang on to their chadors. The women would wear a scarf and an abaya and then have a chador on top, an outer garment, which is what they so dearly and tightly hung on to. Then, the unthinkable: Do you know why people hit their heads with a sword as an act of azaa today, because every woman’s head was injured by the sword that was used to brutally and forcefully snatch the chadors! Yes they were still fully covered, but that outer chador was their covering. When that was snatched, they felt violated! The woman tried to gather the children. 

When Mukhtar caught all the culprits of the tragedy of Karbala, Khuli admits that when he entered a tent, he saw a little girl who had earrings and he wanted to take them, but she put her little hands to cover her ears exclaiming no, these are earrings given to me by my father. I will not be able to tell you how, suffice it to say that he harmed in some horrendous manner that she had to move her hands away from her ears and then he admitted that he took a pointed arrowhead and so forcefully ripped the earrings from her ears that the injury in her ears would keep bleeding throughout the journey from kufa to Shaam and into her grave.

We are all sinners! Shaitaan tries to use that against us and says that we will not be forgiven and our deeds will not be accepted. It is true that we have sinned, know that as we discussed from the hadith of Rasulullah that along with our efforts, although we might fall short, we are firm in the love for Rasululaah and Ahle-bayt and hopeful for their intercession.

Rabbana takabal minna innaka antas samee-ul aleem.

Ended with many duas..Ameen

[writingsbyexiledfromazerath]

Saudade; Chapter 3 Papercut

"Hello, Sockhead! Earth to Sockhead! C'mon man I don't want to be here any longer than I have to be!"

Eddward's eyes focused to the blank piece of paper before him. Tutoring Eddy was difficult enough, but it was even more challenging with his mind running in circles.

It was not healthy where his mind was drifting off to, but he quickly attempted to shake it off. Distractions were not of the essence right now.

Eddward cleared his throat before picking up Eddy's textbook.

"My apologizes, Eddy. Let us start over. What were some of the initial factors and conflicts that instigated World War II?"

Eddy paused, furrowed his brow and ripped the textbook from Edward's hand. As he pried the book open and flipped frantically through the pages, Eddward realized Eddy has yet again neglected study.

"Eddy, you'll never get out of remedial history if you don't at least skim the material." Eddy groaned.

"I don't see why we even have to learn this stuff, Double D. I mean, the past is over right? Isn't that the point?What does it matter what Turkey or Hungry did 70 years ago?"

"Stuffing anyone?" Ed approached the library's wooden table with full arms and a matching grin. His arms and his forehead had slight streaks of paint in a variety of colors. His arms were loaded with folders and loose papers.

"Hello Ed! And how was your art class?" Ed dropped his items onto the table and began to sort through them.

"I'm working on a new peice guys! He held up an elaborate space and alien sketch, half painted. The painting was realistic enough that Edward could almost feel the aliens breathing and hear the lasers firing. Ed had a real gift.

"Ain't I a Pinocchio or what, Fellas?"He asked with a smirk. Eddward grinned.

"Picasso Ed, and I must say you're artwork has certainly improved since middle school."

Ed beamed. It made Eddward so happy to see Ed show some confidence and pride in something he had accomplished.

"I really hope to have this one finished by Nazz's party. I think it would be a nice gift." Eddy ripped his eyes from his textbook to Ed's half completed piece before breaking out laughing.

"Yeah right! Like Nazz would be interested in a dumb ol' painting. Why don't' you give it to May and see if she'll let you hit second base?"

Ed noticeably recoiled, hunching his shoulders over and looking down.

"I don't want to play baseball with May, Eddy. I just want Nazz to have a nice birthday gift."

Eddward resented Eddy for how much he had been trying to push Ed sexually. Clearly he was not emotionally or mentally mature enough for such endeavors and he was not helping by teasing him about it.

"Well I think that's a very thoughtful idea Ed."Eddward commented "We all know Nazz loves thoughtful and kind people."

Eddy paused, narrowing his eyes. "Are you trying to say something, Sock Head?"

Eddward sighed, defeated.

"Of course not, Eddy. I'm going to go find a textbook with simpler timelines. Be right back."

Edward pushed out his chair and huffed to the History section of the library. He knew it was easier to walk away from Eddy than to argue with him, but sometimes he wished that standing up to him was the easier option.

Dazed hazel eyes glazed over the series of textbooks lining the dusty shelves. Hundreds of years of history and Eddy could not show interest in a single moment if his life depended on it.

His fingers grazed the plastic bindings until he found the material he was looking for. He slowly pulled the book from the shelf and lowered his eyes to the binding as he turned around.

A smooth talking voice graced Eddward's ears that was far too familiar.

Kevin.

Before Eddward could evaluate his actions, his legs developed a mind of their own, carried him closer to the source of the voice. He peered around the edge of a bookcase, attempting to remain silent.

Kevin had Nazz pressed up against a bookcases, his arm pressed against the bindings above her head. Nazz giggled flirtatiously and confidently as Kevin gave her a smirk.

That mischievous, devious smirk. Eddward was too familiar with that.

Eddward watched Kevin whisper something into Nazz's ear. After another giggle he planted a quick kiss onto her strawberry lips.

Eddward felt his chest tighten. Could they be dating? It was certainly possible. What could have happened over th course of the summer to trigger that?

"I was sure that Kevin…"

His knees started to tremble but he found himself somehow unable to move. The textbook he had clasped between his palms had escaped and fallen to the floor with a gratuitous thud. He needed to leave. He needed to get Kevin's face removed from his brain. This was too much for him.

Kevin and Nazz paused, turning their heads towards the sound of the thump and the thin teen's direction.

Curses, they've noticed me.

His feet would still not remove themselves from the library carpet.

Kevin and Eddward's eyes met, and once again Eddward found himself unable to read Kevin's eyes. Why did his eyes look that way?

"Dude, a little privacy, would ya?" Kevin uttered, casting his eyes downward.

Eddward obeyed, spinning on his heel and almost sprinting towards the back of the library where his friends were waiting, ignorant of his situation.

When Eddward returned to his friends, his face was read and his body was starting to perspire. His chest still felt tight and the last thing he wanted to do was to explain why he was so disheaveled.

Eddy looked up from his cellphone, appearing disinterested before his eyes squinted in confusion.

"What the hell happened to you, Sockhead? And where the hell is the book?"Eddward looked down into his suddenly empty hands; the book was gone, probably only a few feet from Kevin and Nazz's hiding spot. Eddward swallowed a hard lump.

"Oh, someone seems to have checked it out already."Eddward muttered. Eddy grunted, appearing bored.

"Well let's go do something else Double D. I'm getting bored of this stupid studying stuff." Eddy pushed his body out from the table. Normally, Eddward would protest, but the defeat in his mind had worn his body weak, and for a brief moment Eddward no longer cared about academic goals.

"Sure, Eddy. We've done enough. Let's go back to the Cul-de-Sac."Eddy's eyes widened. With a triumphant cheer, he sprung from the table and started to dart towards the door. His smartphone left abandoned on the table.

Eddward grabbed the phone, still open on the popular social media app that Eddy was so addicted to. His finger skimmed the screen, causing the screen to scroll down to more oversharing from his classmates.

Kevin and Nazz had posted a picture together, captioning it "two month anniversary", complete with hearts and smiley emojis. Eddward could have just swallowed a brick with the heavy feeling in his stomach.

Eddward felt the air escape from his lungs, suddenly unable to breathe. His eyes began to water.

"What were we then, Kevin?" He thought to himself. "What the hell were we?"

"Dammit. God dammit."

"Are you okay Double D?" Eddward turned to see Ed, still packing up his art projects with a concerned sadness in his eyes. Eddward sniffed and straightened his body, attempting to compose himself. This was not something he wanted to tell anyone, and was far too complicated for Ed to handle.

"Yeah, I'm fine Ed. Just feeling really out of it today. I think a good night's sleep would help" He tried to smile, but realized quickly that it probably was not very convincing. Ed tilted his head.

"Is it about Kevin and Nazz?"He asked slowly, Eddward almost choked.

"Wh...what would make you think that, Ed?" The nerd stuttered, chest so tight he thought his ribs would break.

"Well you guys got really close last year right? And how he won't talk to you? What happened?"

Floored, Eddward found himself speechless. As much as he and Kevin had worked to hide it, Ed had noticed the changes. They were so convinced they had everyone ignorant of their secret.

"Well I mean, friendships change Ed, and sometimes people grow distant. It's a perfectly normal part of growing up." Ed stared at Eddward, sadness still present in his eyes.

"You gotta talk to him, Double D. It's not fair for you to not understand what's going on. It happens to me sometimes and I would change it if I could, you know."

Edd could not speak.

"Ed, that is the most coherent thing I've ever heard you say."

Ed looked down, picking up his art bag and his football jacket from the wooden table.

"Just because I don't talk alot don't mean I don't have alot to say, Double D. Noone really stops to consider what I'm really good at, they just all look at what I can't do."

Without another word, Ed slung his bag over his shoulder and quietly walked past Eddward. Eddward watched him keep his solemn face until he was approached by Rolf, and suddenly that goofy smile had reappeared on his face.

Eddward felt morbidly embarrassed. He was so sure he knew the people around him, including his best friends. How could he have missed Ed's strengths?

Perhaps he was underestimating Ed and Eddy. They were his best friends after all. He should be willing to focus more on their strengths rather than their weaknesses. Perhaps telling them what had happened between himself and Kevin could be a beneficial action. Perhaps they would understand…

But then again, would they really believe him?

[greyzipupjacket]

Flirting Lessons

This is honestly just writing bc I can. It’s fluffy trash.

 After coming home from the concert, Pearl is confused to find a new cellphone in her room. She’s even more confused on how to properly use it to keep her mystery girl interested.

Steven  Universe

Pairings: Garnet/Rupphire (RubyxSapphire); Pearl/Mystery Girl

"Garnet?" Pearl questioned quietly after knocking on the fusion's door.

"Yeah," the purple gem called out in reply. "You can come in."

"I believe you left this in my room," Pearl said, holding out a cell phone. She was only slightly mad that Garnet had gone into her room-- Amethyst was one thing, but the fusion was another entirely. The deep magenta gem was sitting on a couch, facing opposite the door. Pearl noticed that she was flipping through a book Steven had asked her to read, and was making careful and deliberate marks in the margins, alternative between a red and a blue pen.

"Yeah," Garnet replied, not bothering to look over her shoulder as Pearl startled. "Tha's 'cause it's for you."

"For me?" Pearl questioned, looking down at the little device again. They hardly ever used phones -- it was easy enough to find Steven when they were in Beach City, and easy enough to keep him with one of the older gems when they were on missions. The last time they had used a cell phone was after they returned from the barn. "...Where did you get it?"

"Unimportant," Garnet said in reply before half-way smirking over her shoulder. "I didn' steal it, this time, if tha's what you mean. I bought it."

"Oh!" Pearl blushed lightly. She cleared her throat, "may I ask why?"

"Future vision," Garnet grinned. "You can call or text that girl. If all goes well in abou' a month, she'll be havin' dinner with us."

Pearl's blush deepened and she grinned. "Really?" Garnet nodded. "Um, Garnet. Can you define 'goes well'?"

Garnet shrugged, "You keep you likin' you. Flirt a bit. Tha's all."

"Right," Pearl smiled awkwardly. "Well, thank you."

"Yeah. It's no big deal." Garnet returned her attention to the book, and picked up her blue pen. The fusion heard Pearl walk out, and grinned to herself. "An' three, two-"

"Garnet?" Pearl's voice came again. "I, well. The last time I tried to... earn the affections of a woman, it, well, didn't end romantically well. At least, not for me."

"Yeah, tha' was bound to fail."

"Yes," Pearl's voice grew frustrated as her blush reappeared. "Regardless, I was hoping you could help, well, for lack of a better word, teach me to flirt." Garnet's stoic face hid the snicker that built in her throat at the request."

"Yeah, sure. But, you don' really want lessons from me." Garnet invited Pearl to sit on the couch with her. "I don' really do flirting."

Pearl wanted to protest, recalling multiple fusions where Garnet was more than provocative, but stopped upon remembering that it was not Garnet's intention to make anyone like her (Jamie was a testament to that.) Garnet really loved herself, and her confidence quickly made everyone else love her just as much.

"No, I suppose you don't." Pearl glanced down to the book that laid open on Garnet's lap. In the margins were red and blue doodles of Ruby and Sapphire, respectively, and little hearts floating about them. "Would you be willing- would Ruby and Sapphire be willing to teach me?"

Garnet nodded, "come on." She picked up her book and relaxedly lead Pearl out of her room. As soon as the door to Garnet's room closed, light momentarily blinded Pearl. When Pearl's sight was recovered by blinking a few times, she saw two short gems holding hands in front of her.

"It is for the greater good," Ruby smirked, wrapping her arm quickly around Sapphire's shoulders.

"Hello, Pearl," Sapphire nodded and subconsciously leaned into Ruby's embrace. Ruby's huge smile earned a small chuckle from the aristocrat. "She's been looking forward to this for quite some time," Sapphire explained. Ruby's grin remained as she placed a kiss on the blue gem's cheek. "Ruby. Not the time," Sapphire's smile grew at the affection, regardless.

"It's great to see you again, Ruby and Sapphire," Pearl relaxed. "Steven will be excited to see you both."

Sapphire nodded sagely, "yes, but he and Amethyst will be outside playing for a while longer. So, our lessons can begin."

"Alright, so step one," Ruby began, her excitement escaping her "cool" persona. "Conversation starters. What've you guys talked about so far?"

"Well. I asked her about her hair, and she asked me about mine, and I told her my body was merely a conscious manifestation of light, and she said she knew how that was, which I doubt, but then I told her that I saved the planet and that she was welcome."

"And that worked?" Ruby teased.

"Be nice," Sapphire softly admonished, nudging her.

"I'm sure you weren't much better," Pearl muttered and Ruby shrugged.

"No, I really wasn't," Ruby replied, smiling.

"Neither of us were," Sapphire added, and gracefully sat down on the couch in the living room. "If I remember correctly, my first words to you were that you were fated to bump into me."

"But even that sounds romantic if you say it in a certain way," Pearl protested lightly, sitting beside the blue gem.

"Yeah. Don't count that," Ruby sped. "She's graceful at, like, everything." Sapphire blushed and turned away, and Ruby grinned. "That's part two of the Ruby-approved-fool-proof-plan-to-charming. Back handed complaints. But back to part one." Ruby sat on the coffee table and leaned back on her hands. "Sapphire and I had our experience with Blue Diamond in common. And then, we had all the new stuff we saw on earth."

"That's true, we had a lot to discuss from the start..." Sapphire hummed.

"Frogs!" Ruby exclaimed, earning a few raised eyebrows and a smirk from Sapphire. "No, really! Nothing'll make someone smile quite like showing them a frog."

Sapphire's hand covered her mouth for a second, stifling a laugh. "It should be mentioned that this method only earned smiles from myself and Steven."

"What, so that won't work on everyone?"

"I wouldn't count on it working for everyone, no."

"Okay, okay. So what do you suggest?"

"Simple. Trial and error," Sapphire replied. "When it came to choosing topics, I mean."

"But what if I say something that makes her want to not talk to me anymore?" Pearl sighed and rested her head in her hands. "I don't have future vision like you. And there's millions of people for her to talk to-- we're not the only two benevolent beings willing to have a discussion with for millions of miles."

"That's fair," Ruby muttered, sitting up and putting her cheek on her fist. "I guess just stick to the hair and light stuff?"

"She'll bring up more things as the conversation drifts. Build off of that," Sapphire added.

"Just let her lead?" Pearl clarified, looking between the two short gems. They nodded and Pearl materialized a pen and notebook to quickly write it down.

Ruby smiled as Pearl set the pen aside. "Now we can go to part two!"

"Back-handed complaints," Ruby stood in front of the "class," grinning and holding Sapphire's hand, "are the key to charming any lady." Ruby snapped her fingers, letting go of her girlfriend's hand. "I'll be right back!"

"She really has been planning this all out," Sapphire mentioned to Pearl, smiling softly as she watched Ruby leave. "I wouldn't count on all of her advice as fool proof, but she's so excited and was careful in planning all of this out. Garnet saw that you might meet your new human earlier this week. So as soon as you left with Amethyst and Steven, she went straight to get you a cellphone."

"That's very sweet of her," Pearl commented, blushing.

"She loves love, and has quite the romantic streak. I think as much as she wants to help you, she also wants to impress me."

"Doesn't she know she already has you?" Pearl chuckled, leaning against the arm of the couch.

"Of course she does." Sapphire looked to her palms and a relaxed smile on her face. "It's just who she is. She likes to others to be proud of her."

"You two are good for each other," Pearl mumbled, her mind wandering to when she was a far braver gem.

"We know."

"I'm back!" Ruby exclaimed, rushing back into the house with flowers in hand. "Okay, now this is how you really get her." She held out her gemmed hand to Sapphire. "Sapphy? Would you mind playing my aloof love interest-- I know it's quite the stretch, acting wise, but-"

"Shut up," Sapphire laughed, grabbing Ruby's outstretched hand and being pulled to her feet. "Lets see what you can do, hot shot," she teased, "impress me."

"Of course," Ruby grinned, "watch and learn, Pearl." Ruby gave a short sigh and roughly handed the flowers to the blue gem.

"What're these for?" Sapphire asked, a laugh waiting at the back of her throat.

"Well since you just had to go and be so freakin' pretty that nothing else can compare, I don't really want these anymore. Figured you could have 'em."

"Ah, well," Sapphire smiled softly, "thank you."

"Ugh, there you go again. I'm never gonna wanna puppy or kitten or anything like that ever again-- like, nothing is cute compared to you. Hope you're pleased with yourself."

"Unsurprisingly, I am," Sapphire smirked lightly, discretely enjoying the attention.

"Whatever. I'm gonna go take a nap. I'll see you in my dreams, so at least you haven't made them bite in comparison to you too." Ruby bowed lightly. "And there you have it, Pearl. Back handed complaints." She turned to Sapphire excitedly, "whatcha think, babe?"

Sapphire pressed a kiss to Ruby's cheek, and Pearl felt the heat that radiated from the red gem increase.

"So, I should complain about how wonderful she is?" Pearl clarified again, glancing between the two gems. "And she'll like that?"

"You bet, Pearl," Ruby replied, wrapping her arm over Sapphire's shoulder's once again.  "Now, onto part three: showing off."

"Rube," Sapphire intervened, seeing the many ways such a task could go wrong, "what exactly do you mean by showing off?"

The couple shared a significant glance before Ruby's huge grin reappeared. "Just that. Showing off the best of what you are-- and part of what's the best about you, Pearl, is that you know when it's appropriate to show off." Sapphire relaxed slightly at this turn of the conversation, and Ruby continued. "So if a corrupted gem happens to appear, you can play hero. If Steven happens to come up, you can show off your Bird mom skills and stuff-"

"Wait, my wha-"

"Anyways! You'll know when to talk about what you're good at when it's natural. Fir ms, personally, I looked for excuses to show off. That won't always work. You're probably better off to let situations arise. Just find your own funky flow and follow it-"

"Oh my God," Sapphire began to chuckle. "You need to find some different phrase, please."

"Why? Steven makes up catchy names," Ruby shrugged, her smile still in place. Sapphire didn't bother to respond besides an indulgent smile, and Ruby plowed on. "Sapphy's - well, everything about Sapphy - impressed me from the get-go. I'm willing to bet you impressed her and got her attention in a similar way."

"Wait, what did you do Sapphire, to impress Ruby?" Pearl turned to the short blue gem.

Sapphire shrugged, "I didn't mean to impress anyone. I felt like I was a mess. But I didn't let how much of a mess I felt like make me treat Ruby as anything more or less than my equal. I think that will end up working for you as well, Pearl."

"That's ver-"

"Wait, seriously?" Ruby interrupted. "You got me from the start, but then you -like- showed me a lot of compassion, and a lot more wisdom than I expected, honestly. You were always so freaking level headed-- how can you say you were a mess back then?"

"I think you're forgetting how quickly I froze around you," Sapphire commented. "It doesn't matter, though." The blue gem turned to Pearl, "do you feel comfortable with everything, Pearl?"

"Well, yes. With the exception of 'texting.' I know Steven does it, but how should I go about doing so. Especially having more romantic intentions?"

"Text flirting?" Ruby repeated to herself, thinking. "What'd we know about that, Sapph?"

Sapphire shrugged somewhat, "when you want to show you're happy, type colon-end-parentheses. When you want to make sure she understands that you're flirting, type semi-colon-end-parentheses. And to make a heart is the less-than-symbol, then the number three. Steven will show you the actual mechanics of it."

Pearl nodded gratefully, glancing to her new little phone. "Thank you both." Sapphire nodded softly in acknowledgement. Ruby did the same before her chin fell into her hand as her brow crinkled.

"How do you remember all of those names for those things?" Ruby muttered. "Just spelling normally is a pain in my butt."

"We all have different strengths," Sapphire replied easily. "I'm sure spelling would come easier if you would remember to wear your glasses."

"Not in this lifetime, babe," Ruby huffed.

"So next time we get poofed?"

"Sure, yeah, that'll happen," Ruby smirked and Sapphire's grin grew to match it. They briefly put their foreheads together and in a burst of light, Garnet was re-fused.

The purple gem materialized her visor and adjusted it lightly on her face. "Feel in' confiden'?" She asked Pearl, who smiled.

"Yes, I think I am."

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Love Like Lava, Epilogue

Notes: The final section of my story has completed, so it's time to doll out some thanks.

To my close pals for their wonderful friendship, ones who kept me going with their smiles - Boxlunches, Palooka, Chllstarr, Greta, friends old and new within the Mice Discord, without those last pushes I wouldn't be here!

Once again, a big thanks toward my great gal Angie, who is the co-creator of Millicent! And, by that line, Agalma too!

A special thanks towards Disney Diligent, who helped inspire/create the final look for Aphrodite Minnie.

As always, super ultra huge mega thanks to my fantastic editors, Drucilla and Blueshifted! Funny enough, this story seemed to create the most division between them, one adoring lines that the other insisted be kicked out! XD Thankfully I as the narcissistic writer get to ultimately choose =P But yes, these two put in hard work and great effort for my little hobby, and deserve all the praise in the world!

Finally, thank YOU, yes YOU, all of my fans for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and for ultimately enjoying this wild ride! It's definitely gone through some changes since I first bubbled the idea years ago - a simple romantic comedy turned into questions of loss and sense of purpose. I had to cut out a few ideas (at one point, I debated about a sideplot of Clarabelle as Medusa and Horace as her blind boyfriend), but I think in the end I came away with a better story overall. I hope you all had a good time, and I also hope you stick around for next lovey-dovey tale!

(... and apologies in advance to all the donald fans because yes I am absolutely going to kick him around again)

Summary: When it comes to legends and myths, the final curtain never rests. What can the love story between two unlikely immortals inspire for upcoming generations?

“You don't have to do this, you know.” Donald knew his statement was obvious, yet he felt a need to say it anyway. “You don't owe him anything... except maybe a kick to his almighty shin.”

“I know,” Mickey casually replied, finishing the last strikes with his hammer upon his project. “But when I had this in mind, it was for someone huge, and he's the only guy big enough to use it. Besides, I like makin' stuff for folks.”

“Oh, Mickey.” Minnie was sitting on his workbench, admiring him with a swooning sigh. “You've got such a big heart.”

“If you two are going to get all lovey-dovey,” Daisy warned, averting her eyes, “I'm out of here.”

One of the newly repaired Axelias came over to wipe away Mickey's sweat, and he gave her a smile. “Thanks, Axelia.”

“You-Are-Welcome-Welcome-Welcome.” This one had the newest feature, a movable mouth. It was still a work in process, so her smile was lopsided, but it was still a smile she chose to make.

Mickey brought the hammer down one last time, then decided he was finished, pulling back to admire his work. “What do you think?”

“Not bad, not bad at all.” Donald offered a thumbs-up, grinning with pride.

Daisy snickered. “I can't wait to hear the mortals' reaction when they see it for the first time.”

“It's positively perfect.” Minnie came up to kiss Mickey's cheek, and he chuckled. “Oh, Mickey, will you ever stop being amazing?”

“Only when you stop bein' cute as a button.” Mickey nuzzled his nose to hers, causing Minnie to giggle wildly.

“Guys, seriously, I'm gunna hurl.” Daisy pretended to gag with a finger in her mouth. “Look, can we get this over with already? The sooner we can drop it off, the sooner we can go sailing. The ocean misses us.”

Mickey laughed, and placed his hand on the project, his other hand steady on his walking stick. “Fine, let's get going! It's not going to deliver itself!”

Thus the four of them reappeared on Mount Olympus – it had been several months since they last touched the cloudy paradise. No, it didn't deserve them, but Mickey had ultimately decided he could grace them with his presence when he felt like it. It wouldn't be too often, but he found such joy in his creations that he wanted everyone to have them. They popped up near the rebuilt thrones of Hera and Zeus, now separated. Hera flinched when she saw them, ready to duck and hide if need be. Zeus grimaced until he saw the unusual glimmer in Mickey's hands.

“I have brought you a gift,” Mickey declared, his back tall and proud. “I want nothing in return. I call it... a lightning bolt!”

Zeus' eyes went as big as the planet itself, and he knelt down to take the mighty yellow arch in his hands. “Such electricity... such power... I have never felt anything so magnificent! I feel a thousand years younger!” He burst with glee, hoisting the mighty weapon above his head. It was the best toy he'd ever gotten, and he wanted to play with it right now. He opened the clouds with his hands, trying to find a good place to strike. “Maybe there, or, no wait, how about here? But there's good too...”

Hera eyed the group suspiciously. “You SAY you bring a GIFT, yet you want NOTHING? What MADNESS are you SPEAKING of?”

“Careful.” Mickey wagged a finger. “My girlfriend can kick your butt.” Hera promptly shut up, cowering from Minnie's gleeful grin. “Aw, naw, I meant it! And I want all of Mount Olympus to know that I'd be happy to craft them anythin' they want. I need projects to keep me busy.”

“And he's very good at everything he makes,” Minnie cooed, snuggling up to Mickey's free arm.

Nearby gods found themselves piqued by curiosity, and it was Fethry who dared to speak first. “Say, could I get new shoes? These ones keep molting their feathers!”

“I wouldn't mind a new vanity mirror,” Gladstone happened to comment.

Even Mortimer found himself wanting in on this. “Okay, if you're that good, maybe you can bring some new life to my goblets? If you can.”

Daisy groaned. “We're never going to go sailing at this rate.”

Donald put his arm around Daisy's shoulders. “Oh, how you suffer.”

Gods and goddesses began to line up in front of Mickey, asking for jewelry and armor and other trinkets. Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey saw Pete hiding behind one of his deformed statues, and he quickly retreated when he saw Minnie's eyes on him. Judging from the smell, he still hadn't fully recovered. But he would one day, and perhaps he'd foolishly try for revenge. There would always be people who didn't learn from their mistakes.

There would also always be people who became better from their mistakes. Mickey smiled at Minnie, but then blinked as he saw her licking her lips with a puzzled look. “Minnie? What is it?”

“Hm? … Oh, it's nothing. Just...” She shrugged. “I have the oddest craving for peaches again.”

That probably had to do with Goofy placing the finished carved peach in her temple, having felt for some reason that it was the right thing to do. He hadn't seen Minnie or any of his unusual friends in all those months, and while he missed them, he wouldn't allow his sadness to hold him back anymore. It was the last act he did in the village before he left for his trip around the world with Agalma, and with his newfound confidence, he also brought the story of Millicent, Agalma, Aphrodite, and himself to every shore. The story spread throughout the land, although a few creative individuals decided that Agalma was too lazy a name, and decided Galatea was far more suitable. It is the nature of stories to change, after all.

The stories of Zeus and Hera, of Hades and Persephone, of Hephaestus and Aphrodite also changed as the decades came and went, with some believing Persephone was Hades's prisoner, and others thinking Aphrodite saw Ares on the side. One day the history became legend, the stuff of fairy tales and impossibility. People no longer needed the gods, and thus couldn't believe they'd ever been around in the first place. Yet these stories stayed, inspiring generations in many ways – art, music, theater, and even morality for a few. Even though such tales couldn't possibly be true, they were still told and enjoyed, even in museums of the highest education.

That's where a young boy was admiring a carving of the mighty Hephaestus presenting a gift to the lovely Aphrodite, although the stone was so worn down it was impossible to tell what the gift was. The mouse boy smiled in admiration – so the Greeks and Romans believed even a powerful god could have been disabled? He looked down at his own legs, forever bound in a wheelchair, and felt an odd sense of pride. If Hephaestus could be capable of great things, maybe he could too. With a funny chuckle, he touched his wheels, ready to move on. But when he lifted his head, his jaw dropped in shock.

What a coincidence – the prettiest girl in his class, and who he had a gigantic crush on, was also in the museum, looking at a nearby vase depicting Persephone. What were the odds? The boy always wanted to talk to her, to have that melodious voice directed at him, but had also felt that because of his disability, he never had a chance. Yet... he glanced back at Hephaestus. If that guy could land the most beautiful goddess, the boy had no excuse not to try.

He cleared his throat. “Say, uh... hi there!”

The mouse girl blinked and turned around, equally surprised to see him. “Oh! I didn't know you were here too!”

She responded she responded she responded – CALM DOWN. “Uh, y-yeah! I love this exhibit.” Thank goodness the wheelchair was blocking her from seeing how hard his tail was wagging.

“Me too.” The girl giggled, nodding towards the vase. “These stories are so romantic! I just love them! Which one is your favorite?”

She wanted to know more about him she wanted – FOR REAL, CALM DOWN. The boy hoped he wasn't blushing as hard as he thought he was, pointing at the stone carving. “Well, uh, gee, I always thought Hephaestus was kinda neat. Even though his legs didn't work, he made gold servants and lightning bolts and all kind of nifty things.”

“Oooh, I love that story!” the girl squealed, walking over to see the carving closer. “And he won the heart of the fair Aphrodite! I bet they loved each other sooo much!”

“Yeah, me too.” The boy scratched his chin, wondering if there were gods since his luck had never been so good. “Say, uh...the cafe here ain't too bad! You... maybe... wanna grab some lunch together?”

The girl turned to face him slowly, her own delicate chinks pinking. “Really? … I'd love to!” She smiled shyly, hands curled up together. “You know, I've always wanted to tell you how great your art is.”

“W-what?” the boy stammered, his disbelief at new levels.

“Those drawings you're always making in class... I think they're really amazing! They're so lifelike! Do you think you could show me how to do it sometime?”

“YEAH! … I-I mean, yeah, sure, okay.” As long as she didn't know she was the subject of more than half of the things he drew, then he was fine with showing her his doodles. “I guess I could show you my sketchpad over lunch.”

“Great! Let's get going!” The girl took a step forward, but then hesitated. “Do you need help pushing your wheelchair?”

“Naw, I'm just fine,” the boy said, beginning to roll. “And, y'know, I'm glad you asked instead of doin' it right away. Folks see me like this and assume I can't do nothin'.”

“That's very unfair of them...but if I ever make you feel like that, please let me know.”

“Sure thing!” He smiled at her, and she smiled at him, and they began to exit the exhibit together.

But as they left, the boy could've sworn he saw the stone-faced Hephaestus smile. It must have been his imagination.

[johnnyseod-remade]

The Syndicate; Prologue

Part: Prologue Pairing: None Genre: Action, Adventure (tbh idk) Description: Five boys have gathered. Solemn silence spreads around them and they look upon one another, hoping that an answer may descend upon them. However, no one speaks and the silence ensues. It is almost endless; the vastness of it spreads like poison throughout each of the boys. And as if connected by something other than their bond to each other, the answer dawns on them. An agreement, an alliance, an anchor. Word Count: 1432 Words Warnings: None. Requested: I mean, not really? @taeyong-dot-com​ and I kinda just ?? got super emo?? Song Recommendation: Cathedrals of Steel - Assassin’s Creed Syndicate Soundtrack (Austin Wintory) A/N: So, due to a dream and @taeyong-dot-com​ making me cry about this idea- I came to the conclusion that I should write this Assassin’s Creed x NCT AU. Really, I think this might be my favourite idea that I’ve ever had and hopefully, I can write this with minimal (or no) blocks. So, the most important thing is that, this is going to be a series! Basically this prologue will be followed by each individual member’s backstory and how it led to this point in the story! The backstories will involve “Y/N” but they are not the same person! In each chapter, “Y/N” represents someone different. I made it that way so that the reader, you, can read the ones about your bias and just afiowaenfoiawioef. Obviously, I suggest reading all the backstories, as it will show to the qualities of the characters and what types of assassins they are. But yeah, that’s completely up to you! Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this series!

The small room was quiet. Five boys were scattered around the room; some were sitting, some were standing, all holding goblets with wine. And all were silent. Absolute silence spread over them, like the darkness that covered their faces and their hearts. It was like a poison seeping through their veins, paralyzing even their thoughts. Nothing was being said in light of the recent events. But, who could blame them? What could anyone even say about the events that had transpired? It was not simple, but then again, life rarely was.

Every so often, one of the boys would glance at his comrades, a small sigh escaping him and then look away. This cycle of stealing glances continued on, until the boy with black hair and once star strung eyes looked up. Something along the lines of determination was etched into his features and he glanced carefully around at the boys. He tried to find the words that would mean something, anything.

“I think, it’s time.” His voice carried confidence, although he didn’t feel it.

Every head snapped up, eyes that held no sign of determination glanced at him. He could feel the lack of energy, and he couldn’t blame them; these days held no reason for trying. But at a moment like now, they could not let it influence their actions. Not with the position they held.

“I know how you must be feeling, what you must be thinking. Of course, I feel it too,” He paused, glancing around at them, making sure they knew he was more than sympathetic, “I recognize the fragility of your hearts and minds. And I understand; I myself am there. But there is another fragility to consider. That being the fragility of this situation. I know that I do not have to explain to each of you why we are here. We have all been through our fair share of pain and anguish but… This moment, this is the moment we were all trained for. We’re here because we have a job to do, and we should do well to remember that more than what has been taken from us could be at stake.”

One of the boys stood up from his place on the floor, raising his goblet to the ceiling. His eyes shone clear and hard as he nodded in the speaker’s direction.

“Well said Taeyong.” “Thank you Jaehyun.”

One boy, who was leaning against the wall, smiled at this. He nodded, repeating Jaehyun’s action and raising his cup to the ceiling.

“I expect nothing less than our leader to be sensible at a time like this. Good on you for not losing your head completely.” “Any of you would’ve done the same, even you Hansol.” “But none of us are as well spoken as you.” Another boy commented from the floor. “Johnny-” “There’s no use arguing or denying it Taeyong. You’re just going to have to accept that, out of the five of us, you’re the most adept at handling stress.” “Yuta…” “Trust us.” Jaehyun nodded, smiling.

Taeyong’s eyes regained some light and a small smile graced his lips. There was something warm about the boys. Something that carried the feeling of family and hope and kindness. Although the circumstances under which they met had not been ideal for forming friendships, they’d easily and quickly adjusted, becoming close and trusting. And for a job like the one they held, trust was necessary.

“Thank you, for believing in me… As a leader.” “Always.” Their voices echoed each other. “I suppose there isn’t much more left to say then?” Taeyong’s eyes flashed around the room. “Probably not.” Johnny’s smile reappeared after what felt like too long. “Shall we then?” Yuta murmured. “We’ve no choice.” Hansol pushed off the wall, fixing his cape. “Well, any final words?” Jaehyun’s grin brightened to the room.

No one seemed to know what to say, and their eyes naturally glided to the leader. He stood there numbly wondering what sort of words might comfort the other boys. And as if a prayer had been whispered into his ear, the words came to him. They felt right in his mind. He opened his mouth, the syllables ready to dive off his tongue.

“For those we have lost… And found.”

A ripple of emotion passed through the five boys and they nodded, a quiet sadness filling them. They raised their goblets in unison once more. A sort of understanding was made. Although they would never forget their past lives, they were just that, past lives.

“And,” Taeyong spoke up once more, “for The Syndicate.”

Silence filled the room but not for long, as they collectively murmured, “The Syndicate.”

Taeyong nodded at the door and they understood. Four of the boys slowly filed out of the room, giving the room no final glances. The last one, hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. Would this be the last place he ever felt safe? Would this too, become a distant memory? Somewhere that seemed like a lifetime away? A frown flickered over his features, darkening his expression.

“Johnny- What are you doing?” “Ah, sorry Taeyong. Just… Thinking.” “About?” “If this is it… If things will never go back to how they were before. I was just wondering if this is the moment we lost our lives.” “I think we lost our lives a long time ago… Back when we first joined…” “No,” He said, a dark expression clouded him, making him look rather different from his natural self, “Even back then Taeyong… We still had a sense of self- a sense of life. We only lost it after…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Whatever it was, Johnny couldn’t find the words to describe it. Taeyong gripped his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“I know…” “Especially you. You lost the most-” “We all lost something dear to us. Not just me.” “Do you believe in fate?” “No, do you?” “If I did, I don’t know if I’d be able to live with myself. I would question constantly why fate had allowed us to suffer… Why it had…” The boy trailed off, getting lost in thought. “Johnny, we have a long way to travel tonight. We should get going- And I think the boys must be waiting.” “Right…” He nodded, glancing back at the room once again. “It’ll be okay. This is what our lives are. We’re meant to protect people.” “I know… I just wish I’d been able to protect the most important ones.”

Taeyong sighed and squeezed Johnny’s shoulder again. There was nothing to say this time; no words could heal these wounds. But the mere action was appreciated and meant more to Johnny than he could express. He gave the boy a weak smile, trying to tell him he was okay, but the words would not leave his throat. They were stuck. But Taeyong could tell, just from his broken expression. He understood.

Letting go of Johnny’s shoulder, Taeyong turned and walked back towards the door. Johnny followed, this time, not glancing back at the room. Together, they walked out the door and into a vast open stretch of land, staring out at the horizon. Everything was painted with the rays of a golden sun, sinking lower and lower against the horizon line. The sky was, fittingly, a blood orange. The few clouds that lingered in the sky were thrown into a golden glow. And the smell of spring nights hung in the air, making anyone vulnerable to the heavy sleepiness it brought.

Train tracks were bolted to the ground a few meters from where they stood, and as they looked around they noticed the other boys, huddled together, conversing quietly. They noticed that Johnny and Taeyong had finally emerged from the makeshift hideout.

“Remember Johnny: this is all for the greater good. All of this, we do it for-” “The Syndicate.”

The sound of an approaching train caught their ears. There was a flash of eyes followed by nodding, and suddenly all five boys were running at the train. Trained and skillful hands grabbed at ledges and ladders, hoisting themselves up onto the moving locomotive.

They stood together on the roof of the train cars, staring at the hideaway as it grew smaller and more distant. The sun continued to sink lower on the horizon, as the rushing of air blew through their hair. This was a life they had chosen and their current path had become an inevitable one. But so long as they had each other and the strength of The Syndicate, their aims and resolve would remain everlasting.