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#Worn combat boots that were my mother's
crymyeyesout1 · 1 month
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Set in their sights
poly!marauders 
Summary: The marauders are all in a poly relationship with each other and Lily when they all individually become interested in a shy hufflepuff in their year. What about this little hufflepuff makes them all feel complete? Will she return their affections?
Warnings: Poly relationship, mentions of smut, lots of fluff, very shy oc, mentions of child abuse. let me know if there are any more
PSA: this is my first time writing on tumblr so please be kind, I'm trying my best. And there is absolutely no peter in this story so sorry not sorry. Please let me know if you like it and if I should write more.
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James and Sirius were hurriedly making their way through the train; their lovers were already in the marauders designated compartment and they were running late. It would seem as if the two hadn’t seen them since their fifth  year ended just three months ago, but in reality it had been only five days since their shared boyfriend and girlfriend had departed from James’ home where they had spent almost the entire summer doing whatever they pleased. 
“Pads slow down you are going to run someone over” James pleaded with his boyfriend
“ Prongs please we are late and I’m not going to-” he was cut off by a body colliding with him square in the chest and falling over. He peered down to see a small girl and became almost immediately enamored with in his eyes she was the most adorable girl he’d ever seen to others she was almost odd looking her hair was mostly pitch black but around her face and peeking out a bit from the underneath was bright blonde and all of it was naturally curly. The girl was wearing a hufflepuff jumper that looked at least one size too big with a black skirt and sheer tights that had some kind of pattern to them, stars, Sirius recognized and on her feet lay black worn out combat boots. Sirius reached out his hand to help the poor girl up and for a few seconds she hesitated almost as if she was scared of what would happen if she did take his hand, which reluctantly she did. He carefully pulled her to her feet and as he did so he took quick notice of her eyes: they were a dark gray and dull like there was no life behind them, they were slightly sunken and were surrounded by deep dark blueish purple eye bags. Just by looking into them Sirius could tell she was sad and it broke his heart a part of him wanted to take this girl and hide her away from all the evils of the world that she had already seen. He wanted to be the reason the light returned to those eyes. His thoughts were going a million miles a minute when someone clears their throat dragging him back to reality. It was James, his boyfriend, how could he be so stupid as to be so caught up with this random girl that he completely blanked on his relationship. He had two boyfriends and a girlfriend already. What was he doing ogling this poor girl? 
“Hello there, sorry about this brute, he can’t pay attention to anything even if it's right in front of him” James quickly apologized to the poor girl on Sirius’ behalf.
“It's quite alright” a soft and dreamy voice came from the girl in front of them, James instantly took more notice of the girl completely understanding he boyfriends staring now. In just three words you had encapsulated him and he needed more.
“Well little love, I’m James Potter and can I tell you how much of a pleasure it is to run into you. Please you must tell me your name, little love.” The girl blushed furiously at the nickname and softly responded.
“Abigail Gaunt '' Her last name caused Sirius to freeze, flashes of his mothers teachings came flooding into his brain. The Gaunts were the last known descendant of Salazar Slytherin, but the last living Gaunt was put in azkaban for murder by means of the killing curse, an unforgivable. How was one standing in front of him, and how was she a hufflepuff, oh how he would love to see the look on his mothers face the last known heir of slytherin sorted into hufflepuff. Surely she couldn’t be in his year, his own sorting into gryffindor had caused uproar but this, this was a whole new level. James had seemed to notice the shock on Sirius’ face and had elbowed his arm, snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.
“Oh I’m Sirius Black, but of course you already know that doll” he winked at her and if her face could have gotten any redder it would.
“Um well yes but um I-It's nice to m-m-meet you” she stuttered out trying with all her might to act normal but in her mind no she wasn’t normal not even in the slightest bit. But two fourths of the infamous marauders stood in front of her and were they? Merlin forbid they were flirting with her? 
Impossible, flirt with her? What were they thinking?
She tried to reason with herself when a beautiful voice filled the hall
“There you boys are Remus and I were starting to worry oh! Who is this?” The voice belonged to the one and only Lily Evans, every aspect of her was beautiful, it was no wonder she had the three most sought after boys in the school on her leash. And what was that last part, she had noticed the small hufflepuff standing with her boys. Abigail might as well have been on fire with how hot and red her cheeks were.
“Lily Pads! We were just on our way when Padfoot decided to tackle Abby here” he looked down at her and cocked his head to the right “ I can call you Abby right? Good because that what I’m calling you, Abby is so much cuter sounding than stuffy Abigail” The girl now newly nicknamed Abby gave a small squeak as the larger and very muscular boy wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close to him and gave a small “sure”  when she noticed his expecting gaze. If someone could die from embarrassment Abby definitely would be long dead. 
“Oh it's so nice to me you Abby what year are you?” Lily gushed at the girl in her boyfriend's arms, she was just too cute and her deeply reddened cheeks only made her more so. Lily wanted nothing more than to kiss them but that would need to be discussed with her boys.
“Come on boys, let's leave Abby here to go find her compartment, I’m sure her friends are waiting, just as Remus is waiting on us.” She leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to Abby’s cheek then turned and walked back to their compartment. Abby didn’t have a chance to even think about how she definitely didn’t have any friends waiting on her, in fact the past five minutes have been the most interaction she’s had with someone her age ever she thought. Each of the boys had followed lily’s lead and each kissed one of your cheeks and moved to their compartment. Leaving Abby a flustered mess in the middle of the train.
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goodwithcheese · 6 months
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Series Summary: Maybe reckless hearts come in pairs.
Series Rating: Explicit (18+ only)
Series Content/Warnings: Fluff and Smut, Smoking, I'll add others as we need them.
Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC!reader (has name and backstory, but is physically a blank slate)
Word Count: 5.3K
Series Masterlist
Author's Note: The title of this series is borrowed from a song by the same name by the brilliant John Fullbright. Give it a listen if you'd like, because it was my soundtrack over the last month as I've gotten this thing going. Also, I've tried to honor the canon timeline though it is a bit unclear, and details of Laredo are both real and fictionalized, so don't use this as a travel guide. Here we go!
Chapter 1
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Your sister Esther walks into the kitchen and slides a foil-covered dish onto the already-groaning kitchen table.
“What?” You turn from the refrigerator, where you were trying to fit Mrs. Goncalves’ Tupperware container of pink fluff next to Mrs. Williams’ three dozen deviled eggs. You look down at your worn combat boots and your white blouse tucked neatly into your jeans. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means go put on a dress, Tabitha,” she enunciates, with the authority only an older sister can muster. “You look like a teenager.”
“I didn’t bring one,” you reply, eying the lace cascading down the front of Esther’s floral print dress. “Should I borrow one of Mama’s like you did?”
“Ha!” Your middle sister Ruth cackles from the stove, where she’s stirring a cauldron-sized pot of chili con carne. “Nice one.”
Esther picks up a tea towel from the counter, and swats each of you in turn. “You two are lucky I love you.”
You stand up, bumping the fridge closed with your hip, and lean back on the edge of the counter. “You know I’m kidding, Esty. I can run home and change if you think I should?”
She gives you a tired smile and smooths her hand over her hair. “No, you look fine. I just want everything to be nice for Mama, that’s all.”
You look through the cased doorway that opens into the dining room. A large banner is swagged across one wall; it’s made of shiny silver foil and reads ‘Congratulations!’, the word bookended by two plump hearts. The dining table is draped with a pressed white tablecloth and a vase of fresh flowers sits in the middle, surrounded by heaps of food that the church ladies have been dropping off all day.
“I still can’t believe she’s getting remarried.” You push off the edge of the counter, and lean into Esther, your arms wrapping around her waist.
“I know.” Esther pats your hands where they are clasped at her middle. “Daddy would be happy she’s happy.”
Ruth stops stirring and crosses the kitchen to join your hug. “He would. He’d approve.”
“So would Alma. She loved Mama,” you muse.
“Mama says they brought them together, Daddy and Alma.” Esther smiles indulgently. “She says they’re her angels now.”
“They are.” Your mother walks into the kitchen and beams at the three of you locked in a tangled embrace. “And so are my girls.”
She crosses the faded linoleum floor and pats each of you on the cheek in turn. “Girls, everything is beautiful. I can’t believe at my age I’m getting to have an engagement party. Did I ever tell you about the party when your daddy and I got engaged?”
Ruth nods, returning to the stove to resume her stirring. “Grandpa kept making toasts until everyone was half-drunk. And Uncle Rentie fell off the porch –”
“—and broke his ankle,” you and Esther finish in unison.
Your mother laughs, resting her hands on her hips. “I guess I did, didn’t I?”
You kiss her cheek, her skin soft beneath your lips, and inhale the scent of her perfume. Shalimar – you remember how every year on their anniversary, Daddy would give her a new bottle, wrapped up in fancy department store paper, along with a box of chocolates – remembered how they’d smile at each other like newlyweds.
“If Uncle Rentie falls off the porch today, he’ll break a hip.” You grin at her. “And his toupee’ll fly off.”
She squeezes your arm, her eyes twinkling merrily. “Shush, now. We can’t all be young people.”
You and your sisters catch each other’s eyes, amused. Only a mother would look at daughters in their thirties and forties and think of them as barely adults.
“Mama, should I run to my place and change into a dress? I can be back in –” you glance at your watch, doing rough calculations in your head – “twenty minutes.”
“Oh, sweetie, no need. You look beautiful.”
You stick your tongue out at Esther playfully and she rolls her eyes, turning her attention to your mother. “Mama, come look at the living room and see if you think we have enough chairs.”
The two of them leave the room, and you hop up onto the counter next to the stove, watching Ruth stir.
“Want me to take a turn?”
“Nah, as long as I’m doing this –” she glances toward the kitchen window, and you hear the chatter of your nieces and nephews out in the yard, followed by a shrill squeal and angry yelling – “then their father is responsible for whatever that was.”
“Good plan.” You nod approvingly. Ruth and her husband had waited to start their family until she finished medical school and her residency – waited so long their families had given up on them – then surprised everyone by having four kids in six years. That made her a bit of an oddity in Laredo, Texas: a 46-year-old woman with children in elementary school. Most women around her age were like Esther – although she was only two years older than Ruth, her youngest child was graduating from high school this year.
And then there was you: the baby – or ‘the accident,’ as your sisters liked to remind you. You’d arrived when Ruth and Esther were 9 and 11, and as a result, you’d grown up feeling like you had three mothers, each with different expectations and standards. That meant there was never a shortage of opinions on how you should live your life. The only thing your three mothers had ever agreed on was that you’d lost your mind when you graduated from college and promptly joined the Peace Corps.
But your dad, the one who really saw you as you – not as a projection of dreams and imaginings but as your own person – took it in stride, beaming when you’d made the announcement.
You’d been in Lesotho, teaching long division to a classroom of bright-eyed and excited girls, the day he had his stroke. But by the time the message had wound its way across the thousands of miles that separated you, Grady Taylor was gone.
Without your dad in the world, you’d felt lost.
So, you finished out your two years with the Peace Corps, then wandered for a while. You worked for some relief organizations, spent five years teaching English in Kaliningrad and Cape Coast, and finally made your way back to the States. You bounced around, never staying in one place long enough to grow roots: waiting tables in Colorado, substitute teaching in Pennsylvania, cleaning guest rooms at a dude ranch in Wyoming.
Almost weekly, you’d get a letter or a call from your mom or your sisters, asking when you were going to come home. You didn’t have the heart to tell them that, for you, home had been a person – and that person was gone.
But then, the news of Mama’s engagement coincided with the coldest winter of your life; after four years of teaching in Detroit, you decided two reasons to come back for a while were plenty. You handed in your resignation at the end of the school year, packed your studio apartment up into exactly seven boxes, and moved back to Laredo.
Once home, you’d camped out on Ruth’s couch for the summer, considering your next move.
“Here.” Ruth handed you a sheaf of papers three months ago as you spent a lazy July afternoon playing Monopoly with her daughter Charlie.
“What’s this?” You looked up from paying an exorbitant rent for Marvin Gardens and took the stack she held out.
“It’s an application for a job and a flyer about an apartment. You’ve got to get out of here, Tabby.” She held out a pen. “I love you, but it’s been six weeks and I need my couch back.”
You listened to your niece’s exuberant announcement that she was adding hotels to Mediterranean and Baltic Avenues as you flipped through the papers. “10th grade English?”
“It’s just a one-year contract. Mr. Reynolds is taking a sabbatical, and they’re having a hard time finding someone experienced who’d only want to work for a year. You’re experienced –" Ruth lifted her eyebrows knowingly – “and I doubt you’ll be here longer than a year.”
“I mean, that’s probably true, but –” you grimaced dramatically at your niece, earning a high-pitched giggle from her – “sophomores? Yikes. I only like elementary schoolers.”
“Like me.” Charlie grinned at you from across the board, where she was counting her stacks of paper money.
“No, I like the ones who aren’t slumlords,” you said seriously, and Charlie cackled with glee.
“Tab, it’s just one year and then you can move on.” She smiled as she slid the pen between your fingers. “But really – get off my couch.”
You’d gotten the job – easily, as Ruth had predicted – and signed a one-year lease on the apartment. It was a tiny place in downtown, carved out of a dusty attic. It had been well within your price range, probably because no one wanted to climb the rickety two flights of back-alley stairs it took to reach the front door. But you were surprised when you found you loved both – your students and the cozy classroom at the end of the English hallway, and your apartment with tall windows and brick walls and the comforting hubbub of the store below that went gloriously silent at 7:30 PM.
“Hey, there, Tabby.”
You look toward the kitchen doorway where Ray Harrison is leaning in a carefully casual way against the wall. “Oh. Hi, Ray.”
“Hello, Ray,” Ruth says pointedly, rolling her eyes at you as you suppress your smile.
He stiffens, his hand reaching to straighten his paisley-printed tie against the front of his starched white shirt as he glances at your sister. “Sorry, Ruth, I didn’t…I mean…how are you?”
“I’m fine, Ray.” She lifts the spoon from the chili and points it in his direction. “And you’re early.”
“I ran into Esther yesterday and told her I’d come help get things set up. Tabby, she said you’d know where the folding chairs are.”
Ruth winks at you. “Did you hear that, Tab? He’s just here to help.”
“The chairs are in the shed, Ray.” You ignore your sister’s laughing eyes and slide off the counter. “Here, I’ll help you grab ‘em.”
The two of you go out the back door and walk toward the shed, across the yellowed grass of the yard. The wind is blowing, the chilled edge of October slicing through the weak sunlight.
“What time does this thing start?” Ray’s voice is almost carried away by the gusts.
“Esther said 6.”
“Looks like the church ladies are early.” Ray hooks his thumb toward the driveway where sensible sedans and beat-up farm trucks are parking in the grass, unloading women in Sunday dresses carrying bowls and platters.
You yank up on the latch of the shed and give it a hard pull; the door screeches as it opens, sending a swirl of dust motes into the air.
You squint into the darkness, pointing toward the aluminum chairs leaned against the wall. “Then we’d better get these inside before my sister comes looking for us.”
---
Javier Peña can do anything for two hours.
At least that’s what he tells himself as he climbs into the passenger seat of his dad’s seen-better-days Ford. He wants a cigarette, but instead his fingers worry at the second button of his shirt, the one he’s fairly sure is going to choke him before they even get to where they’re going.
He looks across the cab at his father, who is tilting down the rear-view mirror to straighten his bolo tie and smooth the corners of his white mustache.
“You sure you don’t want me to drive, Pop?” Javi lifts his chin, the corners of his mouth almost curling into a smile as his dad preens. “Give you plenty of time to get pretty?”
Chucho’s chuckle is a low, gravelly sound that makes Javi think of the dust that blows across the ranch, pushing grit into every corner.
He twists the mirror back to its proper position, and winks across the bench seat at Javi. “I’m pretty enough, son. Where’d you think you get it from?”
Javi turns his face toward the window as Chucho pulls away from the house and angles the truck down the long stretch of gravel towards the road. The truck bumps over the cattle guard and Chucho takes a right turn onto the cracked asphalt.
A faded metal sign, pockmarked by bored teens’ buckshot, says it’s only five miles to town, but Javi hasn’t forgotten how far five miles can feel. He couldn’t guess how many summer afternoons he’d spent on his bike, riding by these wide-open fields of swaying bluestem and switchgrass. He liked to count the fence posts as he pedaled past – four hundred thirty-nine in the first mile, four hundred fifty-two in the second, and on and on. He lets his eyes drift over the bar ditches that cough up brown-eyed susans and beer cans in equal measure and stifles a sigh.
Chucho turns up the radio, humming along to the crackling AM station that has played the same country and western songs since the ‘50s, and Javi glances at him from the corner of his eye. After his mother passed eight years ago, he’d watched with increasing worry as his father began to fade away. Chucho got quieter – his life grew smaller. Every time Javi would call him or manage a visit, Pop didn’t have much to say.
Then, last year, Javi had picked up on a change.
“Hello?” Chucho’s voice had sounded tinny and far away over the staticky line.
“Pops!” Javi plugged his finger into his ear, straining to hear over the traffic noise from the street below. Late spring in Colombia demanded he open his windows, but the trade-off was hearing each squealing tire and every sidewalk conversation. “It’s me.”
“Son!” Javi pictured his father in the kitchen, the avocado-green wall phone gripped in his calloused hand as he sat at the breakfast table. “You good?”
“I’m good, Pop.” Javi kept his voice neutral – his father knew what he did, knew the danger of it, but they never discussed details. “How are you?”
“Good, good.” There was a sound like the jingle of keys, and Javi knitted his eyebrows together. “I’m headed to church.”
Javi squinted, momentarily confused. “It’s Saturday.”
Chucho’s voice sounded almost jaunty as he responded. “There’s a spaghetti dinner and bingo tonight. Figured it’d do me good to get out of the house.”
“Sure, Pops, that sounds like a nice time.” Javi stretched the cord of his phone into the hallway, as loud laughter drifted up from the street. “I should let you go then?”
“Yeah, probably so. Don’t want to be late. Good talking to you, son.”
It went on like that for the next few months.
Every time Javi called home, Chucho would mention church – Chucho, who’d only been a Methodist from a distance. Now it seemed that if the doors were open, Chucho was there. There were salad suppers and Bible studies, ice cream socials and prayer services. Javi would have asked about the change under normal circumstances, but summer 1995 wasn’t normal circumstances. Pieces were beginning to fall in the chess game that was taking down the Cali cartel, and he had bigger worries than his father’s newfound devotion.
Somehow a year passed. It was near the end of April when Javi called home from Colombia for the last time.
He’d been packing all morning, with frequent breaks to smoke and brood. Looking around the apartment, where the last ten years of his life somehow managed to fit into two suitcases and five cardboard boxes, he felt weary. All that time, sand shifted from the top of the hourglass to the bottom, and for what, exactly? To make things easier for the next bad guy?
He picked up the phone, punched in the numbers his mom had made him memorize in kindergarten, and stubbed out his cigarette in the heavy glass ashtray that had come with the apartment.
It rang a few times before Chucho picked up.
“Hello?”
“Pops, it’s me.” Javi rubbed his hand over his face, the stubble on his jaw bristling against his palm. “I was calling to tell you I’m shipping some boxes there tomorrow – just five. They may make it before I do.”
“Imelda’s gonna be suspicious when she sees a bunch of boxes from Colombia,” Chucho chuckled. Imelda had been delivering the mail on their rural route since Javi was a kid – she had to be seventy-five – but her real job was as the local gossip. “Everyone’s gonna know you’re coming home before you get here.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Javi ticked his jaw to the side – Laredo wasn’t a small town, but it functioned like one. Nothing stayed quiet for long.
“How long do you have to be in D.C.?”
“Just for one night. It shouldn’t be too complicated. An exit interview, turn in my gun and badge, sign some papers, fly out the next morning.” Javi pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, knowing red tape rarely unspooled that effortlessly.
“Remind me again when I’m picking you up?”
“Got a pen?” Javi listened as his father rifled through the kitchen drawer. “Saturday afternoon, 4:35, American 126. If it changes, I’ll call you.”
Javi could hear Chucho muttering the details to himself as he wrote them down, but behind that sound, he heard something else – another voice, higher and softer.
“Got company, Pop?” Javi furrowed his eyebrows together, leaning forward onto his elbows. Outside of the occasional ranch hand, Javi couldn’t think of the last time his father had someone over to the house.
“Ah.” Chucho’s pause only made Javi more curious. “We’ll talk when I pick you up Saturday. I’ve got some news for you.”
“News?”
“Saturday, son. We’ll talk Saturday.” Chucho’s tone was one Javi had learned in childhood – the conversation was tabled until his father was ready. “Good luck in D.C.”
When Chucho picked him up from the airport, Javi had waited patiently for his father’s news, but they were all the way home, stepping onto the warped boards of the front porch before Chucho spoke up.
“Son, sit for a minute.” He angled his head toward the dusty pink metal glider that had once been a cheerful red.
Javi sat, but Chucho didn’t – he stayed standing, his truck keys jangling in his hand. The nervous gesture made Javi’s jaw tighten, anxiety spilling into his veins.
“What is it, Pop?” Javi instinctively patted his pocket for his cigarettes before remembering he’d chain-smoked the last three at the airport. “Your blood pressure?”
Javi knew his father hadn’t taken the best care of himself after his mother died, knew that days passed without him ever eating a vegetable or drinking a glass of water – not that Javi was one to point fingers.
“No, no, nothing like that.” Chucho met his eyes, a glow lighting his face. “It’s good news. I’m getting married, son.”
Javi hadn’t known what to expect, but that – marriage – wouldn’t have even made the top one hundred.
That’s how Javi learned that the church attendance over the last year had less to do with God and more to do with his father’s fondness for a widow named Caldonia Taylor. Chucho had run into her in the grocery store one afternoon and she’d invited him to a church potluck and that was that. After a year of courting – Chucho’s word, not Javi’s – they’d decided they’d like to get married. They both had known happy marriages and had planned on having a companion in their golden years; it just made sense.
“Her daughters gave me their blessing.”
Javi’s throat tightened at that: his father building a family in his long absence. “Pops, that’s great. I – I’m happy for you.”
Javi remembered the Taylors – well, he mostly remembered Grady Taylor. A big man with a booming laugh, he’d refed Little League games and always manned one of the sizzling deep-fat fryers at the church fish fries. Mr. Taylor had worked for Border Patrol – that Javi remembered clearly and had thought of again when he graduated from college and took the federal exam in hopes of getting a government law enforcement job. He was open to anything that might take him away from the dry, dusty heat of south Texas – open to anything, that is, except Border Patrol. He’d thought of Mr. Taylor then and knew he didn’t want to end up in a job that would just send him straight back to Laredo.
The letter from the DEA was the first to come, and Javi didn’t think twice before leaving; now, 15 years later, he was back.
Javi watches out the window as the sprawling pastures give way to junkyards and windowless bars, the businesses that spring up like stinging nettles on the fringes of every town. Homes get closer together here, too – former pastures divided up into parcels. On some lots, horses graze placidly in front of houses that angle off in every direction – evidence of add-ons as growing families demanded more space. The mix of building materials – some brick walls here, unpainted plywood there, shingles and corrugated tin and the occasional bright blue tarp flapping in the wind – reminds him of the comunas in Colombia.
It’s the same everywhere: people do the best they can.
Javi pulls himself out of his memories, back to the truck that is now turning onto a street of small homes with generous yards. It’s an older neighborhood with sidewalks that have begun to buckle and crack but the houses remain neat as pins.
“You sure you’re gonna move to town, Pop?” Javi eyes the mowed lawns and the chain-link fences, trying to picture Chucho anywhere other than the ranch. “Maybe Mrs. Taylor would like some peace and quiet out in the country.”
“Call her Cal,” his father corrects, and Javi’s mouth silently shapes the name; the raised-to-be-respectful boy in him can’t make peace with the first-name basis she’d like them to be on. “And no, she likes it here in town – her one daughter is right around the corner and the others are just a short drive away. Wants to be near the grandkids.”
Javi nods. There are so many names to learn: three daughters and eight – or is it nine? – grandkids, plus husbands and cousins and aunts and uncles. Javi’s head throbs at the thought of it. He is an only child of only children. When he was small their family had included two grandmothers and one great-grandmother, but those women were gone by the time he reached middle school. After that, it had just been Chucho and Alma and Javi.
He shifts his jaw to the side, thumb and pointer pressing a crease down the front of his Levi’s. Guilt curdles in his belly: of course Chucho had been lonely. His family was gone.
That loneliness had led to here: Javi in his Chucho’s truck heading to his father’s engagement party. They’d agreed to two hours. Two hours and then Javi could make an excuse: feeding the cattle or getting an important call. He could come back later to pick up Chucho, after the party was over and the guests were gone. Javi has been back for 5 months now, but he’s barely shown his face around town. He wasn’t ready for the wondering looks, wasn’t ready for the questions he couldn’t even answer for himself.
Chucho pulls into a circle gravel drive in front of a simple white house. The yard is full of cars already, and men stand in loose knots out front, drinking from plastic cups and long-necked bottles. A few lift their hands in greeting as Chucho turns off the truck.
“You ready, son?” Chucho’s face is creased with pleasure, but concern warms his eyes.
“Yeah, Pop.” Javi wills his jaw to relax as he reaches for the door handle. “I’m ready.”
---
According to your watch, the party has been underway for only 93 minutes, but the heated press of bodies crowded inside the house has sweat pooling between your shoulder blades. You catch Ruth’s eye across the room – she’s been cornered by Mr. Rodriguez for the last half-hour, as he shows her mole after mole – and point to the back door. She nods, and you skirt the edges of the room and slip out the door onto the small back porch. The sun has set, leaving the sky the mottled purple of a bruise, and you are grateful for the chill of its absence.
Yanking the bottom of your shirt free of your jeans, you fan it, cool air rushing beneath the wilted cotton. It helps, but you need more – you swiftly unbutton the top four buttons and have just pulled the collar wide open from throat to sternum when a deep voice makes you spin around.
“I don’t mean to interrupt.” A man is leaning against the slatted siding of the house, mostly hidden in the shadow of the eaves, but you can see the bright orange glow of a lit cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. “But it wouldn’t seem right to let you keep going since you didn’t know I was here.”
The hot ember brightens for a moment as he takes a drag and, in the illumination, you make out a sharp curve of nose and a dark mustache before he pulls the cigarette from his mouth. “But if you want to continue, I won’t complain.”
You bring your hands back to the hem of your shirt and resume your fanning while you eye the man. “Why are you skulking around out here?”
He chuckles, a low rumble devoid of real amusement. “There are a lot of people in there.”
“Oh.” You unbutton your jeans and lower the zipper. “So…not skulking. Hiding.”
He steps out of the shadows then, into the hazy light that filters through the lace curtain on the back door window. He’s a head above you with broad shoulders accentuated by the plaid shirt he’s wearing. Handsome, too – sparkling dark eyes and a smile teasing the edges of his full lips. He lets his gaze linger on the opened waistband of your pants.
He tilts his head to the side, eyebrows flickering up as his shoulders lift into a shrug. “Either way, I’m glad I’m here for this.”
“Calm down. I’m tucking my shirt back in.” You gather the bottom of your shirt and snake your hand down the front of your jeans – admittedly more slowly than necessary, enjoying the amusement that twinkles in his eyes as he watches your performance.
“That’s too bad.” He taps the ash off his cigarette and leans against the porch column, playful disappointment furrowing his brow as you button and zip your jeans. “Things were getting interesting.”
“More interesting than what’s happening in there?” You hook your thumb over your shoulder toward the back door. “How’s that possible?”
He laughs, and you impulsively take a step toward him – his laugh is dark and low and whiskey-warm, and you want to get closer to it.
He notices, and his eyebrows flit up with appraising interest. He takes another drag on his cigarette, tipping his head back to blow the smoke away from your face. The long line of his throat is taut and golden, and you wonder how his skin might smell if you were to nuzzle your face into the open collar of his shirt – like soap, maybe, or cologne, laced with laundry detergent and the spicy musk of sweat.
You realize you’re staring, your own fingers drawing idly down the length of your throat to dip into valley between your breasts. Your breath hitches when he pushes off the column and takes a step in your direction. The space between your bodies is nothing now – one shuffle of your feet and you’d be touching.
You have to tilt your head back to see his face.
“I don’t think we’ve met yet, have we?” you say softly.
“No.” The pearlescent buttons on his shirt gleam like tiny moons, and you fight the urge to orbit them with your fingertip. “I’d remember.”
A gray ribbon of smoke twists through the air between you, rising from the cigarette held at his side, and you’re wondering what’s next when the back door flies open with a thunk.
“There you are.” Ray’s silhouette is black against the bright light behind him, and you step quickly backwards and shield your eyes to look at him. “I wondered where you’d disappeared to.”
He shuffles a few steps toward you, his eyes scanning the scene – the undone buttons on your blouse, the stranger smiling faintly in the blue haze of smoke – and he frowns. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s good, Ray.” You nod toward the house as you do up your buttons. “It was warm in there – I needed to cool off. But I interrupted this gentleman’s smoke break.”
The other man smirks at your choice of words, dropping the cigarette butt to the concrete of the porch and grinding it out with the toe of his boot. “I didn’t mind the company.”
Ray looks back and forth between the two of you, and you can see him trying to work out what he’s walked in on, when his eyes settle on the other man’s face. “Javi? Hey, man, it’s been years!”
You watch as Ray claps the other man on the shoulder, then reaches to shake his hand. “I heard you were back in town but I didn’t know if you’d be here tonight. Everyone say’s you’ve been laying pretty low.”
Javi. The name clicks into place. Chucho’s son. The one who’d left, too.
Javi’s face is studiously blank, nothing revealed, as he extracts his hand from Ray’s. “Yeah, that’s me. And you are…?”
Ray looks momentarily crestfallen, but quickly smooths a practiced smile across his face. “Ray Harrison. We were on the baseball team together. I was a year behind you.”
Javi lifts his eyebrows in a gesture of polite recognition. “Sure. Ray. Good to see you again.”
“We should catch up over a beer some time.” Ray pats his shirt pocket, then pulls out a business card that he holds out to Javi. “And if you need to talk insurance, give me a call. I’ve got an agency here in town and could give you the friends and family rate.”
“Should we get back inside, Ray?” You wrap your fingers around his forearm, give it a gentle squeeze. Ray is a good man, decent and kind, but his earnestness can come off as awkward and you would like to end this uncomfortable encounter for all of you.
“Yeah, yeah, Esther was looking for you.” He grins at you, any traces of jealousy evaporating. “She didn’t know you were out here getting to know your new brother.”
You hear a sharp cough from the other man, and you look carefully from Ray to Javi as you speak. “We hadn’t completed our introductions.”
You hold out your hand, a bland smile on your face. “I’m Tabitha. Caldonia’s daughter.”
He takes your hand – his dwarfs yours, all thick fingers and wide palm – and grips it firmly. “Javier Peña.”
The spark of his skin against yours feels wildly intimate and dizzy want thrums low in your belly.
“Tabby?” Ray is holding the door open and jerks his head toward the house. “You ready?”
You ease your hand out of his, your fingertips sliding through the hollow of his palm. “Nice to meet you, Javier Peña. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
The corner of his mouth twitches as his eyes scan over your face. “I hope so.”
Next
334 notes · View notes
celtic-crossbow · 2 months
Text
You Get Me Closer to God
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader
Setting: France
Warnings: Words & Actions that will damn me to hell; Poorly written smut; blasphemy
Summary: Father Daryl wasn’t an ordinary priest. He drew out your curiosity and curiosity killed the cat…but satisfaction brought it back.
A/N: I am going to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200
©celtic-crossbow 2024. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or placed on any other platform without my consent.
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The smoke stung your eyes a little as it wafted upward from the cigarette hanging between your lips. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the priest arrive with two sisters and a young boy. A strange combination, but not the strangest you had ever seen wander into the walls. 
You had been with this same group of nuns since just after the end of the old world. You had traveled from America just before the turn, backpacking and adventuring with your boyfriend and the friends you shared. Partying, sex, drugs, and copious amounts of alcohol and bad decisions. 
You were the only one left now. 
The sisters had taken you off the street, quite literally. Half dead, beaten, and left for the hungry ones who would eventually stumble upon you. Sister Catherine had ensured your stay, even when you balked against most of their beliefs and practices once you were well enough to attend sermons and lessons. 
Though Sister Catherine still tried to persuade you to join them, they had all but given up, Mother Superior only allowing you to remain because it would be nothing short of a sin to cast you out into the clutches of the sick that wandered in search of flesh. You did your chores and kept your nose clean, well enough. 
You plucked the cigarette from your mouth and crushed it beneath your boot heel, following the sisters and their guests further into the compound by way of the narrow trail in the small garden. 
The sisters carried weapons, which was odd enough, but the priest laden with them, his scrutinizing gaze taking in every inch of the area around him. You knew that look well. Memorizing entrances, exits, weaknesses. 
You fell in behind the group as they entered the makeshift sanctuary, keeping enough distance to not be detected. Something told you (the way he turned his head and angled it, listening) that the priest knew you were there regardless. 
Father Daryl, you learned, observing from one of the pews in the back. The four were passing through, on a mission of which they would not divulge the details. Sister Catherine was content enough with letting it go, leading the group to their quarters for the night. While the sisters and boy bowed their heads with the sign of the cross, Father Daryl did nothing more than observe. Your eyes narrowed, following them as they approached. 
“Ah, this is Y/N. Our resident non-believer.” Sister Catherine gave you a teasing smile as the strangers took you in, no doubt wondering about your outfit of a cut off tank top, leather jacket, and black distressed jeans that disappeared into well worn combat boots. 
“I believe, sister.” You shot back. “I just don’t go about it with a constant stick up my—” Sister Catherine cleared her throat sharply and pinned you down with a look. “Sorry.” You muttered, the grin you wore anything but. Risking a glance at Father Daryl found one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.
Curiouser and curiouser. 
You stood but remained inside as the group was led away. You didn’t miss Father Daryl sparing you one last glance over his shoulder. 
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After Compline, when the sisters had retired to their chambers for the Great Silence, you slipped out your door as you did most nights. A cigarette already hanging from your lips, you walked along the loggia, bringing your lighter up toward your mouth. You never lit the thing, eyes narrowed at the small cloud of smoke billowing up from the terrace below. 
You leaned over the thick banister, spotting Father Daryl easily. He was sitting on the back of one of the stone benches, his boots on the seat. Your first thought was to leave him be. It was late and engaging in conversation during the Great Silence was severely frowned upon. Even guests were asked to participate. 
But Father Daryl wasn’t just a guest. He was a priest. 
You kept your steps light as you descended the stairs and made your way outside. The tip of his cigarette glowed red before diminishing and he held the smoke in a little longer before exhaling. He was savoring it. 
He was flicking the ashes by the time you stood behind him, opening your mouth with snark on the end of your tongue. 
“Ain’t easy to sneak up on me.” He drawled, never turning to face you. 
You straightened, eyes blinking wide. “You’re American.”
“Get that a lot.” He mused in a low voice. Cigarette between his thumb and middle finger, he flicked it to disappear somewhere in the shadows. “Whaddaya want?”
“You’re a priest.” You stated plainly, crossing your arms over your chest. 
“Appears so.” The way he grumbled out the remark was unexpected. You crossed the last few steps and climbed into the back of the bench next to him, leaving ample space in between. 
You could feel his eyes on you though he had yet to move. “You’re smoking. Didn’t you take a vow to refrain from voluntary destruction of your body or some shit?”
One corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk as he pointed toward the dark, starry sky. “We got a arrangement.”
“Uh huh. And what about the Great Silence?” You probed further. 
“Th’fuck’s that?” 
To your bewilderment, he didn’t bat an eye at what you initially presumed was a slip of the tongue, however unlikely. You were stunned into silence, mouth agape while continuing to stare at the man with eyes like saucers. When you never found words, he simply shrugged a shoulder and looked back to the stars. 
“S’diff’rent in America.”
You snapped your jaw shut with an audible click of your teeth. Something was definitely off here. You didn’t know much about the man in front of you but he was no priest. He didn’t seem to care much about hiding that fact either. You could sense he was dangerous. Anyone who would need a disguise yet care so little to keep it had to be. Still, you didn’t feel threatened. 
“I see.” You whispered, continuing to study him. He was an attractive man. Older than you, certainly. Your wandering gaze made it to his hand hanging off the end of his knee when you were struck with an idea. One that could benefit him but would definitely benefit you. 
After all, it had been a long, long time. 
“How different?” You asked, scooting close enough that your shoulders were nearly touching. He glanced down at the decreased space between the two of you and then looked at you from under his lashes. 
“Diff’rent. Why?”
“It’s just… we haven’t had a priest here in so long and…” you shifted to angle your knees toward him, giving him your best doe eyes, “would you take my confession, Father Daryl?”
His back went straight, jaw ticking with how hard he was clenching his teeth. “Nah. Don’t think that’s—”
“Please, Father! I don’t know how long I’ve got left in this world. None of us do. I’m so scared that if I don’t confess, I’ll—” You buried your face in your hands, shoulders trembling as small broken sobs escaped from between your fingers. 
“Okay, alright. Just… stop all that.” He made a gesture toward, well, you in general just as you lowered your hands to your lap. 
Gotcha.
“Follow me. I’ll show you to the confessional.” You hopped down from the bench, adding a bit of extra sway to your hips the moment you heard his boots against the concrete behind you. “We really should wait until tomorrow for this, rules and all.” You whispered as you guided him into the chapel. “I’m sure the sisters would understand, though, given I haven’t been the most…devout during my stay.”
Daryl simply nodded, shifting his weight from foot to foot under your gaze. “S’this the thing?” He motioned to the booth with a sweep of his hand, looking as if he might bolt at any given moment. 
“Mhm.” You nodded, opening the door for him to enter. The fact he didn’t yet realize he’d been busted was amusing, but you weren’t just out for a laugh. 
“Right.” He cleared his throat and stepped inside. With a sly grin, you followed right behind him and pulled the door closed with your back pressed against it. There was about enough room for him to turn and look at you with wide, blue eyes. “Pretty sure you’re s’posed to be on the other side.”
“Nah, I like this side.” You slipped off your jacket and pulled your shirt over your head, letting both fall to the small area by your feet. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” You purred as you pressed flush against him. Daryl held his hands out away from you as far as he could in the limited space. “What’s wrong, Father? Don’t you want me?”
“Ya know I ain’t no priest.”
“Mhm.” You ran your thumb over his bottom lip while your tongue traced your own. “If you don’t want me, I can go. Do you want me to go?” 
“No.”
“Then sit down and let me tell you my sins.” He allowed you to grip his shoulders and push him onto the small bench. With hardly enough room to bend, you had to do some maneuvering to toe off your boots and shimmy your jeans down your legs to lift your feet out of them, pulling the rosary Sister Catherine had given you from the pocket first. 
Daryl was watching you silently. When you twisted an arm behind yourself and unclasped your bra, his hands moved to his belt buckle. You didn’t wait and straddled his lap wearing nothing but your modest cotton panties. He was still working at his zipper when your clothed cunt brushed the top of his knuckles. 
“Damn, woman, ain’t even touched ya yet.” His trousers were open but his cock was still held captive in the confines of his underwear. 
“I’ve been a bad girl, Father.” You purred, rolling your hips against his groin as your mouth slanted over his. He responded with equal fervor, licking your bottom lip before tugging it with his teeth. You couldn’t have stopped the full body shiver if you tried. A gloved hand palmed your breast, his bare fingertips warm as they rolled and pinched your nipples. “I’ve lusted after a man. A dangerous man.”
With a smile against his mouth, you worked a hand between your bodies and into his pants, stroking him languidly while you draped the rosary over his head, twisting it to press tightly against his throat. Daryl growled, his hips bucking into your hand when you pulled him free. 
Large hands drifted over your ribs and down to your hips, fingers dipping into the waistband of your panties. “Off.” He demanded leaning forward to capture your lips as he pulled the garment down over your ass, holding you steady while you lifted one leg and then the other, letting them dangle from your ankle. 
You didn’t wait, found that you didn’t want to; sinking onto him with your jaw slack and eyes closed. The initial stretch burned, it had been so long since you’d taken a lover. Daryl filled you perfectly, your dripping cunt molding around his length. 
“Fuck.” He breathed, his head falling back against the wall. Apparently it had been a while for him as well. “You’re fuckin’ tight.”
You smirked and rolled your hips, gasping when his fingertips pressed into the skin there. “Such language, Father. So unbecoming.” A moan punched out of you when he thrust upwards, jarring you suddenly but hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. 
“Shuddup.” He snapped. His hands slid around to cup your ass, kneading and spreading you open, digging in his fingertips to manage a firm hold. With his help, you set a brutal pace, moans and whimpers echoing in the empty chapel. 
You twisted the rosary again, the beads digging into his throat. Using it as a leash, you pulled him to you, licking inside his mouth. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” You keened, enjoying the painful grip digging into your ass that only tightened with your words. 
Daryl growled, the sound strained against the pressure on his throat. His face was slightly red from exertion and lack of oxygen, but the twitch of his cock within you didn’t lie. He liked it. 
You felt the scorching heat begin pooling in your belly, the frantic way you were riding him quickly coaxing your orgasm to the surface. The twitch and slow pulse moving against your velvety walls gave away that he was soon to follow. His jaw was set, grunts and breathy whimpers spilling out of him each time your ass slapped his clothed thighs. 
Biting your lip, you stared into his lust blown eyes before placing your mouth directly in front of his. “For Thee have I kept the purity of my body, and to Thee have I entrusted my soul; wherefore, preserve Thou Thy lamb, O good Shepherd.” Making a choked noise against the rosary constricting even tighter, Daryl used his hold on your ass to lift you, pounding up into you from below. Your words were jarred and fragmented, breaths coming faster as you neared the precipice. “Do not permit…the beast which seeketh to devour me…to consume me, and…grant me to prevail over the evil desires of my flesh!” The last word broke off into a shout of his name. Seconds later, you felt him pulsing within you, warmth spreading and coating your walls while your pussy milked him dry. 
Panting, you released your grip on the rosary and fell against his shoulder, your body moving back and forth with each heaving breath he managed. “Amen.” He croaked. You chuckled but remained as you were for a moment, relishing the feel of him softening inside you. Letting him cum in you was probably one of the worst decisions you’d ever made but you had a track record of those a mile long. “Don’t think ya can say enough’a them hail Mary’s or whatever for what just happened.”
This time you gave a hearty laugh, sitting up on his lap while he slipped out of you. You kept him pinned where he sat but he didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, he appeared to be quite content. Holding onto the silly scarf he wore, you leaned back to grab your jacket, smiling when his hands came up to ensure you didn’t fall. 
Plucking a cigarette from the coat pocket, you dropped it back to the floor and struck the lighter, inhaling as the paper lit up and burned down.  You even felt inclined to share, turning your hand to let him have a draw after every one of your own. 
“I hope you realize,” you paused to blow out the smoke, “that I’m coming with you when you leave.” His brow drew inward as he took the offered hit. 
“Ya don’t even know me or what we’re doing.”
You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Sick of being cooped up here.” The man hummed, but didn’t exactly agree. “Look, you can let me go with you willingly, or I can sneak off and follow you afterward. Your pick.”
He stared for a moment, eyes narrowed behind the smoke that billowed from his mouth. “Don’t leave me much of a choice, does it?”
“Nope.” You grinned. “Besides, I may need to confess every once in a while.” 
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marzipanandminutiae · 9 months
Text
just Millennial Teen Taking Fashion Cues From YA Urban Fantasy things, because "early 00s teen nostalgia" videos only make me nostalgic for the things my mother made me wear to school events
glitter eyeliner. bonus points if it's not black
henna tattoos
Renaissance Faire bodices with jeans
brightly-colored handkerchief skirts with combat boots
hair dyed a shade that's natural, but clearly not YOUR natural color
Celtic motif jewelry
ear cuffs
jewelry shaped like daggers or swords
Amy Brown art t-shirts. did anyone in those books actually wear Amy Brown shirts? shut up; there's a dragon on it
striped knee-high or thigh-high socks. we might have actually gotten this from the Amy Brown art, in hindsight
cold-shoulder tops, especially with long hair worn down and loosely curled
belly dance skirts, the kind with double slits, over bike shorts
bonus points if you wear the above WITH combat boots
ANYTHING with a hood. if you had a long coat with a hood, you were automatically the coolest kid in your friend group
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brewsterispunkk · 10 months
Text
THE TUTOR
part 4/4
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pairing: eddie munson x f!reader, eddie munson x inexperienced!reader
WC: 4.5k
summary: the end
warnings: smut! 18+! proceed at your own risk!
A/N: It’s finally here!! Thank you for ur patience and support!!!! I hope this doesn’t disappoint!! also—send me eddie asks if u dare . hope you enjoy . xx, lucia 💖
4/4
You woke up with a pounding headache.
Your brain felt like it was splitting beneath your skull and your tongue felt like sandpaper. You yawned, trying to stretch out in your bed, before your feet hit something.
You blinked your eyes open and quickly realized you were in Robin’s living room, on her parents’ burgundy velvet couch.
You coughed, registering the room around you.
It was a room you’d woken up in a thousand times before: the same velvet couch, the same lacy curtains, the old box TV in the corner, the shag carpet that hadn’t been changed since the seventies. And there, sprawled out on the loveseat across from you, was Robin, sleeping with her mouth open.
You would’ve laughed had you not been so hungover.
You groaned, glancing at the clock.
11:00 a.m., it said.
Shit, you thought. My mom is going to kill me.
“Psst!” You looked at Robin, scrambling to sit up. “Rob!”
“Mmph,” she grumbled, half-asleep, rolling over on the loveseat.
“I’m going home,” you whispered to her. “I’ll call you later!”
You found your combat boots laid neatly by the front door, side by side.
You puzzled.
You never laid your shoes neatly like that–you always threw them haphazardly by the door. So much so that your mom always gave you hell about it. And Robin was even more messy than you. So, who had brought you home last night?
You tried to think back, but found you couldn’t remember anything past nearly vomiting on Eddie’s shoes.
Eddie.
You had nearly forgotten. What had happened after you vomited last night? You couldn’t remember.
You felt your stomach drop.
Oh god, had you said something?
You felt your stomach turn from something other than the alcohol.
Did you say something to him? You paled at the thought. The thought of it all coming to light like that. The thought of it coming to light at all.
Shit, shit, shit.
You needed to fix this. Or rather, find out if there was something to fix.
Picking up your speed, you sped-walked to your own house, two doors down from Robin’s, earning you a concerned look from Ms. Eldstrom across the street.
You didn’t care though—nothing else was running through your mind. The thought of your own bed and pain reliever and good sleep had worn off. Now, all you cared about was calling Eddie and fixing whatever damage you’d done.
- - -
You sighed, receiver to your ear, the tone droning through the top.
After an apologetic explanation to your mother, you’d gotten away with a minor lecture before she was off to work. You’d showered, changed, and practically run to the phone.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” you mumbled.
You huffed, ready to give up, before you heard the familiar click.
“Hello?” His voice was unmistakable, even through the phone.
“Eddie?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me.”
“Yeah, I got that,” he joked half-heartedly. The usual jovial lilt wasn’t present in his voice. “You just waking up?”
“Yeah,” you said sheepishly. “I just came home from Rob’s. Did you help me home last night?”
“You don’t remember?” Eddie sounded surprised, and your heart leapt.
What had happened?
“Uh, no,” you said into the receiver. “Whatever was in that jungle juice did the trick.”
“Hmm,” Eddie hummed.
“But hey,” you tried to lighten the mood. “We can cross that off the list now.”
“Yeah.”
There was another pause as you waited for him to continue. Okay, something was definitely up with him.
You inhaled sharply.
“So, uh, do you wanna hang out later?”
“Huh,” Eddie laughed on the other line. “And what? We can’t cross much off the list on a Saturday.”
“Oh…” you trailed off. “I didn’t mean for the list… I just meant as… friends.”
It sounded like a question. You mentally kicked yourself. God, that was so stupid. Of course he would think this was just for the list.
“Oh,” Eddie sounded surprised. “Okay, of course.”
“So you’re free later?”
“Uhm, not exactly,” Eddie sounded dejected. “I’ve got work.”
“Work?” You snorted. “Since when do you work?”
“Well, not work, sales.” He stressed. “You know.”
“Oh,” you stated. “Work.”
“Work.”
A drug deal, duh. You’d nearly forgotten about Eddie’s side hustle.
“Okay,” you sighed. “Another time then.”
“Wait!” Eddie rushed into the phone. “I’ll be done around..eight? Wanna come over after? Maybe watch a movie?”
“Sure,” you smiled into the receiver. “That sounds good.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
“Ok,” you said. “And Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm sorry about getting so drunk last night. That couldn’t have been fun for you.”
There was another pause—one you could cut with a knife—and you wondered if you’d said something wrong.
“Yeah,” Eddie laughed mirthlessly on the other end. “It’s alright, sweetheart. It’s what I’m here for.”
Your heart sank at his tone. It was resigned and almost.. sad?
What the hell could have happened to have made such a switch in him? You weren’t sure, but tonight you would find out. You’d beat it out of him if you had to.
“Okay. See you tonight.”
“See ya.”
- - -
It was freezing when you walked up to the trailer, the warm light from the lamp shining down on you in the snow.
It was snowy. The winter weather had kept away for most of November and December, but had come in fast in the past week. The result was about twelve inches of snow on the ground and more coming from the sky in thick flurries.
You blew warm air into your hands before sighing and knocking again, a little more frantically this time.
“C’mon, Eddie—“
Your chattering was cut off by Eddie swinging the door open. You jumped.
“Hey!” He said, moving aside and waving you in. “Hey, sorry. I was in the bathroom. Come in, it’s freezing.”
“You’re telling me,” you said as you shuffled into the entryway.
You shook off your wet scarf and shrugged out of your jacket before hanging it on the hook by the door. You kicked off your shoes like you’d done the few times before when you’d been over to the trailer.
He was wearing grey sweatpants and a Metallica Kill ‘Em All t-shirt that was obviously a few years old. It was faded and had a hole in the collarbone. The sleeves and shoulders stretched sinfully over his chest. God was testing you, you were sure of it.
“Get over here okay?” Eddie asked, walking over to the kitchen. He opened a cabinet, pulling out two mugs and walking over to a coffee pot, half full with steaming coffee. “It’s coming down out there.”
“I biked.”
There was a silence.
“You what?”
“I biked over; it’s not too far—“
“Jesus, sweetheart!” Eddie handed you a cup of coffee with cream, pressing his hands over yours once you’d taken hold of the mug. “You’re freezing. You’re lucky you didn’t get frostbite.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“So I’ve been told,” he cast you a look before retrieving his own cup from the kitchen counter. “I’ll drive you back. No way am I letting you bike home in this.”
You rolled your eyes half-heartedly, touched by his concern.
“Fine. But only because I nearly froze my ass off out there.”
“Glad we can agree on something,” he leaned toward you teasingly. You playfully nudged him. “You got any ideas for what’s next on the list? I’m pretty sure all we have left is ‘get a boyfriend’—“
“Oh god, stop right there.” You covered your face with your hands.
“What?” Eddie asked. “You put it on the list.”
“And I’m regretting it, too.”
“Oh please,” he pulled your hands from your face. “Really, it’s fine. Besides, I saw you crossed something out next to it. If you want, we could do whatever that was—“
Oh god, you thought as you remembered what you’d almost included on your bucket list.
“No.” You covered up the hard tone you used with a cough. “No, that’s fine. Forget that.”
“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“Eds—“
“I mean, really you’re like one of my best friends anyway—“
“Eddie.” You stopped him and he looked at you expectantly. “It’s okay.”
“Come on, will you please tell me?”
“Not tonight,” you shook your head at him, willing your blush to go away.
“Hmm, so maybe another time?”
“Maybe.”
His eyes held yours for a moment, wry and scrutinizing. He was trying to guilt it out of you, you knew it, but you wouldn’t budge. You were already going to embarrass yourself enough tonight anyway, the last thing you needed was to add another thing.
“So,” you got up, walking toward the couch. “What’s on the docket for tonight?”
“Hm,” Eddie got up, following you in. “I got a few things from Family Video, but I have some stuff in the cabinet too if you wanna look through those.”
You hummed, getting up to kneel in front of the T.V. The T.V. stand held a variety of VHS tapes. There were the few that were obviously Wayne’s—old westerns and golden age movies—and then there was the majority of the others which belonged to Eddie.
You grabbed a stack of what looked like horror flicks and began looking through them.
“Did you run into Robin at Family Video?” You asked, moving a Halloween VHS to the bottom of the stack.
“No,” Eddie hummed from behind you. “She wasn’t in.”
“How about Steve? I think he was on shift.”
There was a pause, the only sound being the heating unit humming in the background.
You sucked in a sharp breath, hands skimming to a stop over the VHS tapes.
Was that what this was about? Steve?
Of course it was. Eddie had told you how uncomfortable Steve made him, and you’d left him at the party anyway. You were such an awful friend. You’d gone and gotten drunk, while Eddie—
“Yeah,” he coughed. “Harrington was there. That was awkward as hell.”
You turned around, eyebrows scrunched together in apology.
“I’m sorry.” You said. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that.”
“What?” Eddie looked at you confusedly from his place on the couch.
“Steve.” You said, and Eddie looked down. “He makes you uncomfortable and I left you there with him the other night. I’m sorry, I—“
“Wait.” Eddie put his hands out. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night,” you sat cross legged in front of him. “I left you with Steve. And then I got drunk and whatever I said, Eddie, I’m sorry, I don’t remember any of it.”
“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?” Somewhere during your word-vomit, Eddie had walked over to you and sat in front of you. His hands found your shoulders.
“Please,” he continued. “I’m not scared of Steve Harrington. You didn’t do anything wrong. We went to that party to get drunk, and that’s what you did. Why would I be mad at you for that?”
You blanched.
“You’re not mad at me?”
“You wouldn’t be here if I was mad at you.”
“Then why have you been acting so strange?”
Eddie blinked, taken aback. His brown eyes darted from you to the rings on his hands.
“I haven’t.”
“You’re shit liar.”
Eddie scoffed.
“C’mon, Eds,” you pushed. “The looks, the freakin’ silences? Since when do we have awkward silences?”
“Look,” he stood up, hands on his hips. “It’s nothing, okay? It’s none of my business.”
You followed him standing up in pursuit. He’d begun to pace back and forth across the living room.
“What? What isn’t your business?”
“Nothing, just—“
“Just what?”
“You and Steve!” He stopped suddenly and whirled around to face you. You stumbled, realizing how close the two of you were.
“Me and Steve?” You asked incredulously. “There is nothing going on between me and Steve.”
“I know,” Eddie sighed, hands flopping to his sides. “I saw the way you looked at him last night, making out with that girl.”
You just stared at him. His eyes looked pained, pleading. He looked at you intently as he continued.
“You looked so sad.” Eddie gave you a knowing look. “You’re into him—a blind man could see it. And I guess—“
He cut himself off, shaking his head.
“You guess what?”
“I guess—I couldn’t look at that. You sad, bent out of shape over someone else.”
Your heart stuttered.
Someone else, he said. Did that mean…?
You started.
“Eddie, what?”
He furrowed his eyebrows.
“And then when you got sick and cried? I couldn’t handle that. Especially when that idiot couldn’t see what he had right in front of him—“
“I do not have feelings for Steve. I never have.” You interrupted, taking a step closer to him. “The reason I was crying last night was because I was drunk and I couldn’t find you.”
“You…”
You went out on a limb and grabbed his wrist, running your thumb over the inside.
“The only thing I cared about that night was that it was you holding my hair back.”
Eddie looked at you in disbelief.
“Are you saying…”
“Eddie,” you sighed.
You didn’t know what it was—maybe it was the coffee or the snow or the adrenaline that came from being this close to him—but whatever it was, it made you put it all on the table.
You pressed your hand to his chest as he looked at you with wide eyes. He was on bated breath, hanging on your every word.
“I have been absolutely pathetic over you since August when Ms Taylor assigned my seat next to yours.”
He opened his mouth to reply before closing it again, seemingly at a loss for words. His brows scrunched together and made a concerned wrinkle between them.
“You aren’t fucking with me?”
“Eddie—“
“Because if you’re fucking with me and this is some joke, that would be—“
Your cheeks heated up and embarrassment flooded your chest.
Oh god, you thought. He doesn’t feel the same way.
Abort mission, abort mission, abort mission—
You scrambled, backing away and dropping your hands from him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—you don’t have to say anything. I’ll just go—“
His arm on your waist cut you off.
With decisiveness, Eddie pulled you to his chest, one arm snaking around your waist and the other to your wrist. Before you could get a word in edgewise, his lips were on yours, soft and insistent.
He pressed them to yours firmly in a chaste kiss before he pulled back.
“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he whispered to you. “You have no idea.”
You sighed and pressed your forehead to his. You shook your head.
“Eddie—“
His lips stopped your words.
This kiss was more insistent, passionate. His soft lips parted yours before his tongue dipped into your mouth. You sighed into it, bending into him. Your arms, which had been idle at your sides, ran up his arms and into his hair.
When your fingers scratched his scalp, Eddie moaned, a sound from deep in his throat, and jerked against you.
You giggled and pulled back, nose bumping his. He laughed with you, panting against your mouth.
“Sorry,” he breathed, before kissing the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw.
“It’s okay—oh,” you moaned when he reached the spot under your jawbone that made you weak in the knees.
Eddie hummed before honing in on the spot with his teeth.
“Ha,” you grabbed at his shoulder, your other hand going to the back of his neck.
“There?” He asked against the skin of your neck. You nodded absentmindedly, pulling his face back to yours.
He tasted like coffee and cigarettes and something sweet and uniquely Eddie. Your chest stuttered as he returned your kiss with enthusiasm.
He hummed, the vibrations tickling your lips as he kissed you deeper. His hands found your waist as he began to walk you backwards toward the couch.
You were overwhelmed—the sensation of Eddie against you and the confusion of walking backwards getting to you making you lose your footing.
Your mouth was separated from Eddie’s as you tripped over the stack of VHS tapes you’d gotten out only minutes earlier. You slipped, almost falling, before one of Eddie’s arms grabbed you full around the waist. You gasped, hands grabbing his forearms.
“Woah, woah,” he breathed into your mouth. “I got ya, I got ya.”
You nodded as he steadied you. He pressed a closed-mouthed kiss to your lips before pressing another one to your nose, then another to your cheekbone.
“C’mere,” he said, falling backwards on the couch.
Awkwardly, you straddled his knees, leaving some space between your chest and his. Your own hands sat idle on your thighs.
Eddie tentatively gripped your waist and brought you closer to him, before pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. His tongue teased the entrance of your mouth as he pulled your hips flush with his. He separated for a moment.
“This okay?” He asked, hands smoothing up your sides. You gripped his shoulders, out of breath with the sensation of having him here, so close to you. So warm, firm, pulsing and alive.
“Uh huh,” you nodded against his lips. “Just,” you paused as he moved open-mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck. “Just haven’t done this much.”
Eddie snorted into your neck.
“Yeah, alright.”
“No, really,” you breathed, only half-coherent. You were drunk on his scent. “I—I have only kissed one person. If I’m doing something wrong or—or weird, you gotta tell me.”
You were practically panting, grinding down on his obvious erection that poked through his sweatpants. Eddie paused, hands halting your hips’ movement.
“Wait,” he pulled back, hair crazed and eyes wide dazed. “You’re serious?”
“Uh,” you gulped, still catching your breath. “Is that okay?”
You let your hands drop from his shoulders to your thighs. Eddie Immediately grabbed them and pressed them to his chest.
“Y-Yeah, princess.” He pressed a short, deep kiss to your lips. “That’s perfectly fine. I just—I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Sorry,” you said lamely.
Eddie smiled at you, before kissing your nose lightly.
“Don’t be,” he pressed another kiss to your jawline. From here, you could smell his shampoo from his still-damp hair. It was addicting. “That just means this will be so much more fun.”
You sighed, his lips moving further down your neck. He stopped, focusing on a spot at the base of your throat and sucking. Unable to stop yourself, your hands went to his hair, gripping the curls.
He moaned into your neck, before nipping sharply at the spot.
You jerked in his lap as a jolt of pleasure tan through you. The noise you let out was something between a moan and squeak. You felt your cheeks heat up.
“Didn’t like that?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the spot.
“No,” you breathed. “I think I liked that a little too much.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, before going back to work. You sighed, and before you could even think about stopping yourself, the words started coming.
“God, Eddie,” you groaned, scratching his scalp. “Thought about this.”
Eddie’s hips jerked against you. He pulled away from your neck and peered up at you, eyes glassy.
“Yeah?” He pressed a kiss to your sternum. “What did you think about, baby?”
You moaned at the nickname. You felt him smirk against you.
“Oh, you liked that.”
You nodded. His lips trailed the hem of your shirt. “Tell me, baby. What did you think about?”
“You,” you said. “Your—your hands, your lips, your—your nose.”
They just came rushing out; you couldn’t stop. Eddie chuckled and you felt your cheeks heat ag your admission. He sucked at a spot on the top of your breast.
“Oh, you’re dirty.”
You nodded absentmindedly. His hands ran up your sides and under your shirt. His fingertips skated there hesitantly.
“Can I?” He asked, only a little bit aprehensive.
You reached for the bottom of your shirt, not even bothering with a response. Wordlessly, you threw it over your head.
For a moment, Eddie just stared at your bra-clad chest, big brown eyes unreadable. Your mouth went dry and you looked anywhere but him.
Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, you thought self-consciously, your arms moving to cross in front of you.
“Um,” you began, before his hands on your forearms stopped you.
“No, wait,” he gulped, eyes not leaving your chest. “Sun just—a bit starstruck.”
You sat there, watching him ogle your breasts before he tentatively placed his cande above them.
“Can—can I?”
You nodded, pressing his hands to you without thinking.
His heavy palms met your clothed chest and a broken sound left the back of Eddie’s throat. He palmed them, a pained look on his face as you sat in his lap.
“Oh my god,” he muttered. “I can’t believe this is happening to me. I can’t believe this is happening to me—“
“What?’ You breathlessly chuckled. Eddie pressed his forehead to your sternum, lightly squeezing your breasts in his hands.
“Can’t believe this is happening,” he pressed a kiss there. “Don’t deserve this, don’t deserve you.”
“Eddie—“
“Must’ve been a saint in a past life,” he mumbled, sucking a hickey to the top of your breast.
“Mm,” you mumbled, running a hand through his hair.
“Musta been a saint to get this.” He kissed your neck again. “God, you feel so good. So soft and warm and—-you smell so good, how do you always smell so good?”
“Don’t—don’t know.”
You were half coherent at this point, breathing out half-formed responses. Your whole body sang Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. All you could think about were his hands, his lips, his voice.
You were convinced that now that you’d had this small taste of him, you’d never be able to go back.
“Wanna make you feel good, sweetheart,” he pulled back to look you in the eye. “You gonna let me make you feel good?”
You met his glossy eyes and nodded, hanging on his every word.
“Okay,” he smiled, kissing your cheek. “Okay, sweetheart.”
“But, wait,” your hands met his shoulders. “What do I do? I don’t know what to do.”
“Hm,” he chuckled. “Who’s the tutor now?”
You lightly pushed his shoulder.
“Eddie, I’m serious!” You furrowed your eyebrows. “I don’t wanna mess up—“
“Shh, shh, okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He kissed your forehead. “You don’t have to do anything. Just sit there, perfect, just like now.”
You sucked in a breath and nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” he kissed you deeply before pulling back and whispering against your lips. “I’m gonna unbutton your pants now, okay?”
You nodded, your body tingling when you felt his nimble fingers against the zipper of your jeans.
“If you wanna stop at any point, tell me.”
You nodded again, before gasping when you felt the metal of his rings against the bottom of your belly. You jerked, unintentionally grinding your hips more into his. You felt his erection throbbing against your center.
“Oh, shit,” his hand retreated. “Sorry, I’ll take these off—“
“Wait!”
You grabbed his hands, eyes wide all of a sudden. He looked at you confusedly.
“Can you… keep them on?”
He looked at you for a moment before a glint lit up his eyes.
“Yeah?” He pulled you closer so there was almost no space between you. His large hands took ahold of your ass and squeezed. “You think about that? My rings?”
You gulped and nodded.
“Hm, okay,” he pressed a filthy kiss to your throat. “The rings stay on.”
When his fingers parted you, you were almost embarrassed by how slick you’d become, but any insecurity you had vanished when Eddie moaned brokenly into your neck.
“Mm, all this for me?”
“Y-yeah, Eddie,” you sighed.
“Good,” he nipped your throat. “Shit, that’s it.”
You mewled, grinding against his hand. “Let go. Take what you need, go on.”
You listened, audibly moaning when he pressed down on your nub.
You gasped, pressing kisses to his neck.
“Eddie, please,” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulder.
Underneath you, he had begun rutting against your hips mindlessly, gasping.
“That’s it, baby. Let go. That’s it, that’s it.”
It happened all at once. You clenched your eyes closed as you released, legs shaking around Eddie’s hips. Your hearing went fuzzy for a moment and you were sure you made the most embarrassing noise when you came. But if Eddie cared, he gave no indication. He only held you as you came down.
“Oh my god,” you panted when you came out of your haze .
“Oh my god,” Eddie repeated, somehow sounding more out of breath than you.
You caught your breath for a minute, before looking into his wide eyes. Instead of finding the confidence there that you usually did, you found apprehension. His wide brown eyes stared into yours. You surged foreword and kissed him more enthusiastically than you ever had.
“Mm,” he made a noise of surprise.
When you pulled back, you looked at him earnestly.
“I want you to know that I meant it,” you spit out. “I’ve been like, obsessed with you since August. You never had to convince me to tutor you because I would have anyway. I just wanted to spend time with you, I’m just—-not good at this kind of thing.”
Eddie looked at you sincerely, eyebrows scrunched, before laughing a little.
You furrowed your brows, confused, as he laughed, pressing his head into your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your collarbone before pulling back and grabbing your face.
“Princess,” he sounded wrecked. “I’ve had a crush on you since your freshman year of high school when you let me borrow a pencil in Mr. Ortiz’s class.”
You blinked, dumb-founded.
All these years, Eddie had been pining for you—passing you in the halls and acting like he didn’t see you—and he hadn’t done a thing?
“But,” you blinked. “You never said anything.”
“Because I thought you hated me,” he leaned toward you.
“I didn’t!”
“I know that now,” he said. “But at the time it just seemed like the best option to…”
“Suffer in silence?”
“Yeah,” he cracked a smile.
You reached up and brushed an unruly curl from his forehead. He pressed his cheek into your hand and closed his eyes.
You smiled, before starting.
“Oh my god, Eddie.”
He hummed
“What about you?”
“What?”
“What about you?” You asked. “You didn’t… finish.”
Eddie looked at you sheepishly, palming your hips.
“Uh, about that… I did.”
“What? No, you—“
“Honey,” he looked you in the eyes. “I definitely did.”
Oh. You realized, and noticed his very obvious lack of a hard-on in his pants.
Your cheeks heated up before you felt a surge of satisfaction course through you. Yeah. You did that.
“So… about the bucket list.” You changed the subject.
“Fuck the bucket list,” he laughed, pulling you closer.
“Really?” You laughed with him.
“Uh, yes really. If you think I’m helping you get a boyfriend after that, you’re fucking wrong.”
“Hm, maybe we can find another way to cross it off…”
He smirked.
“That can be arranged.”
fin
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It’s Supposed to be Father’s Day (John Grayson is the Sole Survivor AU)
 In honor of this year’s Father’s Day, as a sort of companion piece to this year’s Mother’s Day fic, here’s a deliciously angsty AU that I wrote out of almost nowhere. Dedicated to my pen pals @mothnem @lightdusk96 @thattimdrakeguy @spider-jaysart @meara-eldestofthemall @romanticism-is-maudlinism @bluerene @nightglider124 @tarisilmarwen @fireflyxrebel-writes @batboyblog @sbd-laytall @nobodycallsmerae @the-lighthouse-lit @katekanemybeloved @titans-trash Constructive Criticisms are very much appreciated. If you leave a like, reply and/or espcially a Reblog, it’s very appreciated. Please enjoy and have a blessed (late) Father’s Day.
Finally putting on a black cotton t shirt after changing out of his outfit, John had picked up the crumbled up black and red suit and discarded boots off the bathroom floor. As he pads on his sore soles out of said bathroom and into his almost barren bedroom, he dumps the outfit into the laundry hamper. He’ll take them privately to the laundry room below tomorrow morning before everyone else in this apartment building wakes up, even though it would involve probably checking for roaches and spiders in that place.
He sighs as he drags himself to his decaying and no doubt expired mattress he calls a bed. Flopping on the uncomfortable, spring filled bed on his stomach, John breathes out. Only about two years ago, his bed would’ve not only had been more comfortable because of it being better maintained but moreso, he’d have a certain someone to share with.
A certain someone who was probably one of the only few people in his life that he loved dearly and loved him back in turn.
A certain someone who was the reason on his right hand’s ring finger was a simple yet poignant gold band.
A certain someone who his beloved and yet tragically, two years ago, both her and their son Richard, Dick for short, had their lives cut down because he stuck by his principals and refused to pay some tough guys a single penny into their racket.
John takes a sitting position on his worn out mattress, looking down at the amount of bruises, cuts, bullet wounds and other scars that littered all over his body and grew since that ‘accident’ that claimed his wife and little boy. He can tell which ones were before he came back to the States, when his Marine platoon were trudging through the desert sands and hostile environments of Qurac and their resident insurgents. Those are the ones that more or less blended in a bit better with his skin…in contrast to the scars that don’t. Those are more recent, his ‘badges’ from his tour of combat as the Kevlar clad vigilante, ‘the Red Owl’.   His war against crime to protect the innocents is frankly both what’s damaging him but also what really keeps him going forward. At least one of the few things; other reason exist. Be revenge against that one man...Zucco, he’s still out there, on top of the world, ruining lives by the tens of thousands every day, like his; some form of probably self-pity or loathing of himself after all, this was a far cry from the happy performer he was...he probably deserves it. Or maybe, just maybe...this is in a way, his method to do one thing he cannot for the life of him every get to do...moving on. 
  If only it was any way easy for John Grayson, the last living member of the Flying Graysons, to move on. After all, it’s Father’s Day tonight. If only had Dick been there so he can say he can do the laundry first thing int he morning. If only had Dick been there to gaze in awe as his Father told him of his recent adventure as Red Owl, the thrills, the twists, turns and wonderful chaos that can make for a great story. If only had his beloved family been there as a reminder of what he is at heart at the end...a father. 
  If only he didn’t lose that family to such an ironic and terrible fate, an arranged ‘accident’ that sent the two of them plummeting to the sand and sawdust coated solid ground below with him being unable to catch them in his hands. If only he was after who outlived his own child, quit the very circus he worked in for all his life and became a Marine fighting the most heartless and ruthless enemies in the most inhospitable places. If only he wasn’t right now burying his face on his knees and refusing to let any tears fall since he has to be strong. 
  After all, it’s supposed to be Father’s Day...
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pega-chan · 1 year
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First Impressions: Sri Asih (2022)
i have waited 2 years for this movie and it did NOT disappoint. quick thoughts after i watched it yesterday:
i understand it is the movie so they have to pack everything in, but some of the exposition feels clunky. this also leads to some of the dialogue being unnatural
the pacing in the beginning of the movie was a little too fast
there are some scenes that i wish would've lasted longer or had more purpose, like the charity ball. yes it was fun to see Al and Kala dress up but ultimately nothing happened there and the real showdown happened in Adinegara's office
some scenes didn't have a smooth enough transition but i can overlook it
i do wish they would've given more exposition for Alana's age and career/life in the movie. i'm sure she's an adult, otherwise she wouldn't have all that free time. but is she a full time professional fighter? why did her mother decide to have her be one? at the end it's revealed Al's adoptive mom knew she was the next Sri Asih and decided to take her in because of it, but why mold her into a professional fighter and not some other athlete that gives her similar capabilities to fight, like a silat athlete? with silat, Al could've had actual practice using a selendang in battle bc a selendang is a silat weapon
so is Alana's mom part of Jagabumi or something? Kala never explained his connection to her
how did Al adapt to her new powers so quickly? she wasn't even briefed on what they are. her experience as a fighter gives her a leg up, but Eyang Maryani just did not explain that she can fly, use the selendang, have enhanced srength and durability, or multiply, at any point during the movie
she didn't even use all of her comic canon powers, like growing to giant size or purifying dark spirit energy were not utilized at all. they gave her super speed i guess, which is a new power
i am glad romance just does not exist in this movie. Alana is an aroace icon driven by rage and bloodlust just like i've always hoped she'd be <3
no mentions of Ganis :'''''''''''' like okay Ganis and Al are one timeline but i just want my Sundanese homegirl acknowledged
i'm not a big fan of Al being the next Sri Asih by virtue of being directly descended from Nani Wijaya. i don't think superheroes should be chosen by blood relation, they should be determined randomly based on if they're capable or not, bc anyone can be a hero if Dewi Asih decided they are one
casting Najwa Shihab as Nani was GENIUS btw. Nani was a journalist so it makes absolute sense to cast an actual journalist as her!
you know what would be cool though? they could have referenced the 1954 Sri Asih movie by finding someone that looked like Mimi Mariani and referencing the plot of the movie too. if only the movie wasn't lost media :'(
i will say Nani's costume looks absolutely nothing like in the comics and i'm disappointed by it, but hey, you gotta connect Alana's cameo in Gundala to this movie somehow. my advice is they could've made it similar to Nani's costume by adding her batik and then having Al choose not to wear the batik when she suits up to help Gundala
let's talk fashion! Al has a very practical and utilitarian wardrobe in muted colours. its mostly sporty with many sleeveless shirts which she tends to wear bc she sweats while fighting so often. it reflects her priorities as a professional fighter, and she has some high-end/more expensive pieces (like the combat boots and a significantly less utilitarian backpack) that screams of her wealthy background. i'm disappointed none of her clothes seem to have any wear or tear pre-battle, bc you would think some would look pretty ratty if Al has a habit of getting into scuffles, but that can perhaps be chalked up to her having a rich parent that can replace worn out clothes easily. i don't mind the amount of crop tops in her wardrobe, bc Pev Pearce absolutely deserves to show off those abs. the leather jacket was my fave fit.
not a fan of the multiple braids. bro that's cultural appropriation
i love love love her friendships in this movie. with her fellow pro fighters Gilang and that high school kid, Tangguh, and even Kala
i love that Gilang and the high schooler are like, not fair skinned and not with conventionally attractive features. there's a lot of diversity in this movie and i love it
what happened to all her pro fighter friends, anyway? they just up and disappeared after the hospital blew up. i get Al has bigger things to worry about, but the fighter's ring is her mom's work and those and her friends who are threatened by Adinegara. Gilang and co. are just replaced by Tangguh and Kala
Pev did a phenomenal job embodying Alana's character, but i can't understand why they would cast a half-white actor. i'm not being ethnocentric /gen, but i think Sri Asih should be represented by the ordinary class that doesn't have white privilege. biracial Sri Asih is an interesting concept to explore, but i wish they would've cast someone fully indonesian or even a minority. a chindo sri asih would be so cool
Tangguh is MY poor little meow meow. he's doing his best, truly! just a wimp of a man who tries to get context but fails every time. i support him going feral and tasing that guard.
i lowkey want more female characters in this movie. like if you compare it with the amount of guys (that play a significant role) it's just disproportionate, and doesn't make sense for there to be such an imbalance in a girl power film
Kala. has little personality. he's a tool that helps Al take down the bad guys and we only start to see a glimpse of his character when he interacts with Tangguh. official sources describe him as "charismatic", "kalem", and "mysterious". the REAL mystery is his personality babes.
speaking of, while Al is aroace for sure. the tension and chemistry between Kala and Tangguh has more romantic weight than anything they have going on with Al
Eyang Maryani is also just there as a tool. it's her job as a mentor, sure. but i wish she embodied the mentor part more
how did they get Al's mom out of the hospital in the first place??
it's also unrealistic how quickly Al decides to trust Kala tbh. "i know your mom" does he have proof?? girl he could be lying
this film has a lot going on, and there are some threads i wish they would've tied up more neatly. who murdered Mateo? are we supposed to assume Jatmiko did? how did Jatmiko get his hands on the Roh Setan necklace? what was Adinegara doing with HIS necklace, and what was it for? what about the businessmen working with Adinegara who were in on the plot to sacrifice a thousand souls? why are they concerned with Dewi Api and want to bring forth her army? did they know Jatmiko was behind the mask? did they know the necklace Adinegara had wasn't the real one? who are they in the grand scheme of things other than scummy rich men stepping all over the poor?
also Giselle. what happened to her and what was she hiding about Mateo's murder?
is Adinegara even stopped in his tracks?
i honestly wanted Tangguh to be placed in more imminent danger. if he already has a target on his back for being too intrusive, then maybe have Adinegara send goonies after him. this could connect him more solidly to Al, who is also being hunted down by Adinegara. it would work out better than randomly meeting each other in the rusun.
Tangguh does end up helping Al by having the motive to help out his neighbours and the working class in the rusun, who are being mistreated by the rich. but considering his whole gig was as a journalist, he should've had a mission about documenting the whole story and could've introduced Al to the public after she saved them
the ACAB plotline could've been done better. Jatmiko was the villain disguised as a grey character but he's not grey enough imo bc he didn't have a solid intention for playing both sides
the action scenes were spectacular btw, i usually get bored at action scenes if they go on for too long but this movie did not make me sleepy
that's all i have currently. i'll be watching the movie again next week, so i'll be adding onto this after a rewatch as i think of more stuff. overall the movie was a 9/10! totally worth the wait
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90s-neon-rat · 10 months
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Fearsome Five Next Gen AU
I’ve had an DWD AU rattling around in my head for a while where in the future a new Fearsome Five forms with the descendants of the original group. This is a run down of the characters so far (bare with me, some are more developed than others).
MegaByte (Tessa Sputtershock)
Parents: Megavolt and Lexi (biological)
Pronouns: She/They
Sexuality: Bi
Species: Rat/Opossum hybrid
Age: 15
Powers: Inherited Megavolt’s electrical powers, however instead of stealing light bulbs she uses them to hack and manipulate machinery. Also controls an army of electric-powered robotic rats she designed/created herself.
Weaknesses: Much like her father, water is the easiest way to take Tessa down. She is also quite inexperienced with her powers and tends to get over emotional.
Personality: Geeky, scatterbrained, awkward, tech savvy, sensitive, insecure, shy
Appearance: Physically Tessa is more rat-like similar to Megs but has grey fur/white hair like her mother. Quite tall and rather scrawny. Her villain outfit generally consists of a black tank top, yellow combat trousers, purple boots, gloves and goggles. Like Megavolt she wears a battery pack but hers is fashioned after a square battery. Her hair is rather choppy and often worn in a short ponytail.
Random facts:
-Megavolt’s powers were passed down to her, however they didn’t properly manifest until her early teens. She hasn’t quite gotten the hang of controlling them yet.
-She tends to spark randomly whenever experiencing strong emotions
-She’s easily spooked and rather skittish
-Has a sister-like relationship with Quackerjack’s daughter, Harleen.
-She speaks with a mix of British and American slang, often in the same sentence.
-Her main robo-rat companion is named Sebastian (shout out to anyone who gets the reference 😉)
-She has very poor eyesight and needs glasses.
-Has a personal grudge against Quiverwing Quack.
Harley Quack (Harleen Quackson)
Parents: Quackerjack (adopted)
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: Lesbian
Species: Duck
Age: 17 (same age as Gosalyn in this timeline)
Powers: Has no physical powers, but is an exceedingly skilled gymnast. Also very experienced with an array of weapons. The absolute best at disguises. Very convincing actress.
Weaknesses: Her cockiness can lead her to making rash decisions. She also tends to run into situations without a plan.
Personality: Talkative, sassy, fearless, girly, outgoing, energetic
Appearance: Slightly shorter than Tessa. She has a rather muscular build due to being athletic. Her main outfit is similar to Harley Quinn’s gold dungaree outfit in Birds Of Prey, but in a more pastel colour palette. Has split-dyed pastel blue and pink hair.
Random facts:
-Quackerjack’s adopted her when she was seven.
-She’s a very skilled weapon/trap builder, having been taught by Quackerjack from a young age.
-Makes all her own costumes.
-STRONG. Seriously, she could carry the entire fearsome next gen if she wanted to.
-Has an unsettling obsession with horror stories.
-She can be a bit snobby, especially in regards to fashion.
-Good friends with Tessa since they’re a similar age and basically grew up together.
-Has a one-sided crush on QuiverWing Quack and often flirts with her during their encounters.
-She’s really good at pulling off different accents.
-Considers Megavolt her second dad, but refers to him as ‘Mega Mom’ just to wind him up.
Buster Flud
Parents: Bud Flud and an unnamed mother (biological)
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Unspecified
Species: Canine
Age: 20
Powers: He can con his way out of anything, a very smooth talker, street savvy, great strategist
Weaknesses: Physically he’s not a good fighter, usually choosing to stand back and observe from afar.
Personality: Controlling, persuasive, distrustful, rebellious, bossy.
Appearance: I don’t have a fixed design for him yet, but in contrast to pre-mutated Liquidator’s formal style Buster has a more punky, rock-influenced look.
Random facts:
-He has a very strained relationship with his parents, especially Liquidator.
-Budding musician. He’s been trying to put a band together since he was a teen but no one can put up with his control freak tendencies.
-He’s been conning people ever since he was a kid.
-Has been put in juvy more times than all the other next gen villains combined.
-His parents wanted him to go to business school.
-He comes up with a lot of the group’s plans.
-Absolute compulsive shopper. He can go to the mall without coming home with at least five new band T-shirts.
NegaGos (Goslynnda Mallard)
Parents: NegaDuck and NegaLaunchpad (adopted)
Pronouns: She/Her
Sexuality: AroAce
Species: Duck
Age: 17
Powers: NegaGos’s power lies in her deceptiveness, she looks sweet and innocent but can turn into a nasty psycho in an instant. Tiny but mighty, she can wield weapons with just as much confidence as Negaduck.
Weaknesses: Doesn’t like being called by her full name (only NegaGos is acceptable). She struggles with her morals.
Personality: Manipulative, vicious, deceptive, cold, teasing.
Appearance: Not too different from her cannon design, however obviously older. Her outfit is also full-on creepy pastel goth aesthetic. Think skull hair clips, striped tights, bows, etc.
Random Facts:
-Once Negaduck was gone, Gos went off the deep end. She wanted to do him proud, so became a vicious criminal despite her conflicting feelings.
-She has a soft spot for animals but keeps it a secret from the rest of the gang.
-She’s more diplomatic than Negaduck when it comes to the gang, but can be just as cruel if provoked.
-Wields a chainsaw similar to the one used by Juliet Starling in Lollipop Chainsaw (It was a custom made by Harleen).
-After everything that’s happened she’s come to despise the Negaverse and spends most of her time in the primeverse.
Vinez (Vincent ‘Vinnie’ Bushroot)
Parents: Bushroot (creator)
Pronouns: They/Them
Sexuality: Pan/Ace
Species: Mutant plant duck
Age: Physically only around 2-3 years old, mentally a teenager (being a plant he ages differently)
Powers: Like his creator he has the ability to control plant life, however he specialises more in poisonous plants.
Weaknesses: Weed killer, buzzsaws, fire, basically anything that can kill a plant.
Personality: Quiet, brooding, moody, solitary.
Appearance: Like Buster I don’t have an official design finalised for him yet, but I’m thinking a rather dark colour palette in contrast to Bushroot.
Random facts:
-Created by Bushroot by accident.
-Going through a constant emo phase.
-Very reserved and quiet, but has a sweet, caring personality.
-He uses a lot of dark and self-depreciative humor. The others are rightfully concerned about this.
-Not really that interested in being a criminal, he just does so to fit in with his peer group.
-Has a crush on Tessa (she is unaware).
-Has a nice singing voice.
-Bushroot is a bit of a over-protective helicopter parent, which gets on Vince’s nerves.
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A CACOPHONY OF CHIRPS;
A story above her mother, Mary painted her lips neon pink, applied a generous amount of electric blue eyeshadow, and teased her blonde hair to be as tall as her mother’s ego. She never “prettied herself up” (as her step-father commonly said) like this before, so she was determined to look perfect. She put on her hot pink dress, hoop earrings so big they nearly touched her shoulders, black sheer tights, pumps to match her lipstick, and an acid washed jean jacket with rhinestones on the collar.  I feel like a little girl playing dress up. Mary thought, but then reminded herself that if she impressed the mass of the party tonight it would be like a right of passage. If she impressed all the bullies and popular girls, they wouldn’t think she was some stuck-up city girl anymore. 
After she was done poking and prodding at her appearance, she checked that everything she needed was in her bag. Lipstick? Check. Hairbrush? Check. Pocket knife in case some creep comes up to me? Check. Cigarettes I took from Mom? Check. Mary walked downstairs, half-heartedly waving to her mother and step-father. 
“Where are you going all prettied up?” Peter slurred, sitting in front of the TV, a half-empty whiskey bottle in hand. His face screamed wasted, his watery eyes made it obvious. Normally Mary would have grabbed him water, but her friends were outside waiting for her. She did not have time for this drunk b*****d.
Mary pulled down her dress and looked at the floor.
“Nowhere, sir,” She lied. Peter guffawed and stared at her shrunken form. 
“You know it's bad to lie to your father,” her step-father said. It’s not bad since you’re not my father. 
Stupidly, she voiced these thoughts. “You’re not my dad!” she hissed. Peter frowned and leaned forward on his seat. 
“I married your mother didn’t I?” He asked, not actually wanting a response from Mary, “That makes me your step-dad.” Mary gagged and practically ran out the door and into her friend's car. The cherry red trans am was loitering outside their blue front door, with her friends Kathy and Amber in the front seats. 
“You ready to party, Mary?” Kathy cheered, pumping her fists in the air. Kathy, as usual, was dressed in reds and blacks. She wore a cropped black tank top with blood red jeans, along with black combat boots she had worn since 5th grade. It was a miracle that the worn down shoes still fit her, but Kathy had only grown taller and thinner since then. 
Amber cheered along with Kathy and looked at Mary in the rearview mirror. 
“You should dress like this more often, Mare-Mare,” Amber complimented, a large grin on her face. Amber had taken the liberty of adding some colorful streaks to her straight hair and lots of yellow makeup on, which contrasted against her skin. God, they were both so pretty. Mary would never tell them that, though.
“Thanks,” she choked out, suddenly feeling very out of place among the pretty teens. Amber and Kathy giggled at her nervous expression. Kathy reached back and squeezed Mary’s hand for consolation. 
“You look great, I swear,” Kathy promised, flashing a genuine smile at her. This helped Mary calm down, even if only a little bit. Mary just wanted to have a sleepover with her friends, like they did in middle school. But now they were in high school, which meant that now the cool thing was to get wasted and smoke pot.  Ugh. But Mary just smiled overenthusiastically and let her friends drive her to the party. 
Jay sat on the concrete, happily watching the blue jays fly around and pick at the food he left for them. Jay loved birds, and most of the time birds loved him. Unless they were vultures. Jay learned the hard way to not try and pet vultures. Unfortunately, Jay didn't notice the sky getting darker and darker as the minutes passed, and soon found himself lost in the dark. Abruptly, a car's headlights temporarily blinded him.
“Jay?” The confused voice of his step-sister called out, “You’re not supposed to be out right now.” 
Jay blinked and asked, “How late is it?”
Mary rolled her eyes and curtly answered, “7:00 PM, get in.”
Her little brother scrunched his nose and questioned, “Why?”
“‘Cause we’re driving you home, genius.” Mary slid out of the car and picked up Jay and placed him on the seat next to her. 
The short ride home was embarrassing for Mary, all her friends did was tell Jay how cute he was and gush over his manners. Jay just smiled at Mary’s friends, the way they were talking to him felt off, but his father always told him to smile. However, he couldn’t be more relieved when Amber’s car stopped in front of their two story house. He hopped out of the backseat and ran inside, kicking off his shoes at the doorway. 
“Jay?” His father gruffly called, “That you?” 
“Yeah,” his son responded, creeping into the living room and nearly tripping over a discarded bottle. 
His father lazily looked him up and down with his watery eyes and motioned for him to come over to his seat. 
“You look just like Janet,” Peter muttered, having said his dead wife’s name for the first time in years. 
Jay froze. Whenever he was compared to his mother, nothing good came out of it. He stood there, waiting for his father to do something, but it seemed like he was too drunk to. He never truly understood what his father did to him, but he knew it felt bad. Jay was thankful, and let out a sigh of relief before going up to his room and locking the door behind him. The young boy got into his favorite pajamas and climbed into his twin sized bed. 
Kathy shoved a bottle of beer into Mary’s hands, but Mary had already drunk too much, or in Kathy’s opinion, not enough. Either way, the previously anxious teen was now bubbly and loud. 
“C’mon Kath, let's go play M.A.S.H with Gabby,” Mary slurred, tugging Kathy's hand. 
“You’re a riot at parties, Mare!” Kathy shouted over the blaring music, giggly from the spiked lemonade. The two girls stumbled to a small clearing among the crowd, dropping to their knees next to Gabby. 
“How’s it going, Gabs?” Mary asked, adorning a large smile.
Gabby snorted when she saw the goofy expression of her face, and said, “Pretty boring, I’m the only sober one here.” Gabby paid no mind to Mary’s silly attitude and set out sheets of paper and handed a red pen to her. 
“You wanna go first?” She implored, raising a thin eyebrow. The blonde teen giggled and took the pen. She drew a spiral until Gabby called out ‘Stop’. She counted the nine lines, repeating ‘Mansion, apartment, shack, house’, until she landed on ‘mansion’.  
“Nice! Now who’s gonna be your husband when you move into a grand ‘ole mansion?” Gabby teased, “You have four options, Justin, Nick, Brian, and Kyle.” Mary drew another squiggly spiral and repeated the same process as before, and landed on Nick. Gabby gagged at the selection while Kathy only cringed. 
“Oh just bite me!” Mary whined, dramatically leaning on Kathy, “I was about to be so lucky!”
Kathy laughed and pushed Mary off her. “You’re such a drama queen, Nick isn’t that bad.” 
Gabby rolled her eyes at the mention of the jock, “He’s so weird, he’s always staring at the girls.” 
“Gabby, let's be real, what guy in school isn’t?” the blonde said. 
“That’s the most sober thing you’ve said all night,” Kathy cackled. She found everything hilarious when she was drunk, Mary thought it was cute.
Mary thought that everything Kathy did was adorable. Wait. This is wrong. I shouldn’t be thinking this. Why can’t I think about her normally. Oh god. What’s wrong with me? The panic that coursed through the teen sobered her up more than any cold water could. She quickly sat up and backed away from Kathy, leaving the two girls confused and startled. 
“I-I’ve got to go,” Mary spluttered, grabbing her bag off the floor. 
“Wait!” Kathy exclaimed, walking after Mary, “What’s wrong, Mare?” Mary’s face turned a pink brighter than her lipstick, but still walked away from her friend.  I need to leave now. She could feel everyone's eyes on her as she left the party even though it had barely started. Once she had walked a couple blocks away from the house, she wailed, “Why am I like this?” but she received no answer but the plinking of rain. She reached her house after 30 minutes, but the silence that consumed the night stretched the time into a never ending trudge. The door swung open, and Peter had sent himself into a whiskey-induced coma. She took off her pumps and climbed up the stairs, quickly peeking into Jay’s room and giving him a kiss on the forehead. Even though she pretended not to care, she cared for Jay like he was her blood. She took off her makeup and threw her clothes onto her desk, claiming that she’d put them away tomorrow. Mary dropped onto her bed and curled into a fetal position. Quiet sobs filled the room, but her cries fell on her mother’s deaf ears. Eventually, Mary fell into a deep sleep.
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writerleo86 · 7 months
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Terravenger - Season 5: Part Two - Episode 451 (Do Not Copy)
During one bright afternoon, two individuals pounced away as a large flame which was shaped as a dragon's head blew at them.
The person floating at the left side was a young man with brown eyes, fair skin, and a fairly-built body. He had short brown hair on the top of his head as his sides were shaved. And he had a thick beard. He wore a light-gray outfit that had long sleeves and long leggings. Along with a thin collar, he had symbols of different colors on the chest area along with the top of the left sleeve and the bottom right part of his pants. He also had a thick golden cuff around each wrist. And he had on a pair of short black combat-boots.
The other was a determined Victoria Sidney. She had fair skin, brown eyes, and a slender body. Her long blond hair lowered to her shoulders. She also had on black eyeliner and red lipstick. She wore a red tailcoat with yellow linings underneath a brown top. She had on a pair of white gloves and short burgundy boots. And she wore her golden MAF badge on the front left side of her brown top.
The pair continued to face the upcoming wave of fire as they flew away until the large projectile slowly faded away. And the pair landed on the top branch of a large tree below. They were followed by a familiar figure who landed at the other side of the branch.
It was the humble general of the Midas Armed Forces -- Erich Sidney. He had pale skin, green eyes, short light-gray hair, and a small scar on his right cheek. The elder wore an outfit consisting of a long-sleeved silver top with golden shoulder pads. Designs of different colors came from each shoulder. And his MAF badge was placed on the front left side of his top. He wore a pair of silver pants with a long golden pad around each ankle. He also had on a pair of short black combat-boots. And worn on his head was a silver cap with a large green design at the front.
After he faced the young pair, Sidney gave a soft smile as he folded his arms around his back.
"You have done well," He informed the pair.
Terravenger -- Season 5: Part Two -- Episode 451:  The Whirling Lieutenant of Midas
Then Sidney clapped his hands a few times and responded "You both are indeed ready. Victoria! You are prepared to take over for Claire Stone as lieutenant of the Midas Armed Forces."
The calm Victoria shook her head and replied "I will not let any of you down Dad -- I mean General."
"I am not talking to you as only your superior," Sidney told her. "I am speaking as a proud father. You should be proud of the great accomplishments you made during your tours in both France and Iraq."
The smiling Victoria lowered her head and said "I am, Father."
"And let us not forget about what you have done recently," Sidney directed to the young man.
The young man kindly shook his head and responded "Like Vickie, I toured through other countries. And I was appointed as an agent for the Terravenger Council."
"As I hoped," said Sidney. "You two are my youngest and gifted children. Your mother and I... The both of us couldn't be so proud of you, my loving twins."
"Quentin," Victoria informed her brother. "You will be an excellent addition as a member of the counsel. The Admirals will be delighted to have you."
The supportive Quentin shook his head and replied "Commander Ravenstone will see how great of a soldier you are Sis. No need to wish you luck."
During the next morning, the determined Victoria reported to Commander Beau Ravenstone who sat at his desk inside his office at the Midas Armed Forces.
Beau gave a brown folder from his right hand to her. Then Victoria opened the folder and read the files that were inside.
Beau informed his new lieutenant "Your mission is to stop a nuclear bomb from exploding from the center of Blue Gale City."
"Of course Commander," said Victoria.
Later in the morning, two people hurried to each other and began fighting one another. Meanwhile, another individual sat on their right knee while typing on a small green tablet at the closed entrance of a large cave nearby.
The young scholar named Dilan Carr wore a sleeveless blue top that was zipped up. He had on a pair of fingerless black gloves and black combat-pants. He also wore a black belt with his golden MAF badge as a buckle and a black pad protecting each elbow. And he had a pair of long black boots.
The person who floated to the right side of the battlefield was the determined Natalia Wayne. She had green eyes and fair skin. She also had black eyeliner, red eye-shadow, and red lipstick. And she had short midnight-blue hair. She had a silver bra underneath a red outfit which consisted of long leggings and a strap around her left shoulder. She had a large picture of a blue bird designed on the top of her right leg. She also wore a pair of long red gloves that had a lace going between the middle of each hand. She had on a pair of long white boots with golden caps covering the toes. And her MAF badge was placed on the front left side of her top.
Natalia hurried to her opponent who was a soldier with a green uniform and a black helmet over his head. The teen soon continued her assault until another student struck the masked warrior using a thrusting Right Punch. And the wicked warrior was pushed away by its great power.
The attacker was the older student, Pacey Deacon. He wore a sleeveless black shirt which was protected by white armor near his shoulders. He also had on tight black leggings with a thick white belt, a white pad around each knee, and white combat-boots. Placed on each pad around his ankles was a large belt of yellow lightning. And his MAF badge was worn as a buckle on his belt.
Half of the villainous army were soon taken down by the combination of Pacey and Natalia while Dilan continued searching for the entrance code on his tablet.
After that, someone else appeared before Natalia. The serene Victoria Sidney struck every warrior using a barrage of palm strikes while spinning around like a windmill. And the enemies all fell down as Victoria landed by the right side of Pacey Deacon.
"It appears..." commented Pacey. "...that Monroe was not kidding when he claimed that you moved like a rotating fan."
The elegant soldier gave a soft smile as more enemies gathered at the other side.
And Victoria ordered Dilan "Carr! Create a barrier around yourself. And continue until you have unlocked the code."
Dilan shook his head and said "Yes ma'am."
The enemies began shooting from their rifles at the small group of heroes. That was when Victoria spun as quick as she could. A large globe of blue energy formed around her which blew the upcoming bullets away.
Next, Victoria waited until the wicked soldiers came closer. The woman soon spun around once again. Then large wind blew from the spinning energy toward them. And the soldiers were blown from the area.
After she stopped spinning, Victoria gave a soft smile as the last two soldiers fell toward her from the air. Then she blew a large wave of fire from her mouth at them. And the two soldiers started running around as the fire slowly burned into their bodies.
Finally, the fair lieutenant wrapped her left arm around her waist as the back of her right hand remained on the bottom of her chin.
Natalia gave out a quick laugh and yelled "I guess that's the last of those guys!"
And Pacey responded "It seems that they have contended with the wrong person."
Later, the old commander Beau Ravenstone sat at his desk while he had spoken to the leader of the small group using the communicator with his MAF badge.
"The treasures?" asked Beau. "They have been recovered by the Cinna Armed Forces?"
The voice of Victoria reported "Yes sir. The Emerald Army did not make it difficult for us to find what was stolen. It was like they wanted someone to find the money and check cards."
Beau gave a soft laugh and responded "That is great work Sidney. You and your team return to Midas City as soon as you are done there."
"Understood sir," answered Victoria. "We shall gather with Deorceage. And we will all return to Midas immediately."
A few minutes later, the small team led by Victoria Sidney had met with Officer Gavein Deorceage at the front gate made of cement which was placed around the large building of the Cinna Academy.
Gavin was a young man with fair skin, gray eyes, short brown hair, and a thin beard. He also had a thick but muscular body. He wore the standard MAF navy-blue flak-jacket above a long-sleeved gray shirt with different-colored designs on each sleeve. He had on a pair of black pants with black pads protecting on his knees and ankles. He also had on a pair of short dark-brown boots. And his MAF badge was placed on the front left side of his jacket.
Gavin gave a quick bow as Victoria walked toward him.
And the officer reported "I gave your report to the Cinna Commander. She was very pleased with your work Lieutenant."
Victoria responded "Commander Glen was quite helpful. She had her own officer who had psychic abilities locate the army. This turned out to be a joint mission between Midas and Cinna."
"She was magnificent Sir!" bragged Natalia. "The Lieutenant dealt with all those guys single-handedly! She was definitely a powerhouse!"
Victoria ordered her "Report to the shop Wayne. We will be leaving shortly."
"Yes ma'am!"
And Natalia hurried off with both Dilan and Pacey.
Suddenly, something floated toward the shocked lieutenant. This object was a small rose that was made of metal.
Victoria grabbed a hold of the metallic figure with her right hand as she gave a soft smile.
And the soldier Gavin stood with his arms folded as he implied "I guess your first mission went without a hitch."
"Indeed," reported Victoria. "I may have been the captain. But everyone worked greatly as a team. The students should be proud of what each accomplished today."
Gavin had a clever smirk and asked "Can you talk as my wife instead of the Midas Lieutenant please?"
Victoria gave a relieved smile and responded "I am sorry Gavin. It was just a magnificent day. And a great opportunity for me as the new lieutenant for Midas City."
Then she placed her left palm on the right side of the charming officer's face.
And Victoria added "But it will always be great to return home. You and I can have some nights to ourselves."
Gavin placed his hands on her shoulders and said "I'm looking forward to that."
Finally, the pair embraced each other with a great kiss.
After that, Victoria leaned her head on the soldier's chest.
Gavin told her "You know I'm not suppose to fraternize with anyone in my unit."
A happy Victoria informed him "As your superior, I may just look the other way. But as your wife, I will not tell if you won't."
Gavin gave a soft laugh and responded "You know your dad will figure out about us eloping sooner or later. We should form a plan just in case."
Victoria softly shook her head and replied "I am certain I can reason with my father. He has always liked you."
Gavin gave another soft laugh and said "General Sidney has always been a good and fair man. You might be right. He may just understand why we had to marry in secret."
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unhinged-tellings · 1 year
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Jaime Morgan - Supernatural OC
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(picrew)
"I'm not just nobody. I am somebody, a somebody who cares very much about people. I also like beating the brains out of assholes who get in my way. I am someone who cannot handle being alone, yet I strive to put distance between myself and everyone. I am a puzzle, an enigma, a riddle to be solved. Have a go, if you'd like. No one has figured me out yet."
GENERAL DESCRIPTION
(full name)
Jaime Bethany Morgan
(nicknames)
Jame; Jay; Beth
(age)
29 years old (as of s4, 2009)
(birthdate)
08 / 18 / 1980
(gender)
genderqueer
(pronouns)
he/him; she/her on certain occasions
(sexuality)
omnisexual
(species)
human
APPEARANCE
(height)
5ft, 5in (165.1 cm)
(weight)
128 lb
(skin tone)
fair
(hair color)
blonde
(hair length)
short; typical masculine cut
(eye color)
blue
(scars)
one from the right corner of mouth stretching to the bottom of the right jawline
(wardrobe)
plaid flannels, band t-shirts, self-ripped crop-tops, cargo pants, blue jeans, combat boots; everything is faded or worn-out to some degree.
PERSONALITY & TRAITS
(mbti type)
ENFP-T
(alignment)
chaotic good
(overall personality)
outgoing, self-reliant, sociable, stubborn, emotional, rebellious, steadfast. sometimes seen as irrational. not afraid to talk back or undermine authority.
(likes)
insects and arachnids, drawing, music, tattoos, traveling
(dislikes)
cops, tedious tasks, silence, dark chocolate, serious arguments
(fears)
losing the ones he loves, heights, airplanes/flying
FAMILY & FRIENDS
(mother)
Jacqueline Morgan ✟
(father)
Joseph Morgan ✟
(other family members)
Jackie Morgan, cousin. Benjamin Morgan, uncle. Marilyn Morgan, aunt
(friends)
Sam Winchester; Bobby Singer
(love interests)
Dean Winchester; Castiel
FUN FACTS
Jaime has several tattoos all across his body, mainly depicting different insects and arachnids. He also has an anti-possession symbol tattooed on the upper right side of his chest.
Jaime's parents were hunters, much like the Winchesters. However, Jaime was raised without knowledge of this; he grew up never learning about the supernatural or his parents' involvement with it.
Jaime owns a metal baseball bat he named Caroline (after his first girlfriend), which he brings with him almost anywhere.
Jaime spent over ten years traveling across the country while trying to round up information to solve his parents' mysterious murders, which happened when Jaime was fifteen. For most of that time, he traveled in a '83 Ford Bronco that he bought when he was eighteen.
Jaime cannot sleep in a normal position; he says it comes from sleeping in his truck for about 7 years of his life. He's been caught sleeping while laying halfway off the bed, upside-down on a couch/armchair, spread-eagle across the floor, etc.
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hailhydra920 · 2 years
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The Edge of Tomorrow
Pairing: Bucky x reader Modern AU
Summary: When Bucky Barnes' arm gets blow off in Afghanistan, his mental state is shaky. Steve tells him that he needs someone to be with him to make sure he's okay. You just happen to be the girl that answered the ad in the newspaper.
Chapter 1
Series Masterlist
Warnings: Angst. Bucky thinking he’s a freak :(
Word Count: 1.5k
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           Tap. Tap. Tap. Bucky’s right leg moved up and down quickly, his combat boot heel hitting the room floor rhythmically. His hair was disheveled, strands sticking out violently against his head, and his eyes where rimmed red. A smart phone was clutched tightly in his hand, knuckles white, as he listened to Steve talk over the phone. The next words that came out of Steve’s mouth made Bucky want to smash the phone into a million pieces. A low growl traveled through the device and Steve sighed.
           “Buck, you have no other choice.”
           No other choice. He was losing everything, his agency was now being snatched away. Jaw clenched, his leg came to a stop. “No, Steve.”
           He heard shuffling on the other side of the line. “Buck, I’m not gonna argue with you on this. Just put an ad in the paper, if you don’t have someone picked by the end of the month, you’re going to the Center.”
           Bucky clicked his tongue as he exhaled. “Afghanistan blows off my arm and you’re acting like they blew up my mind. I can take care of myself. I don’t need anybody. No one would even want to be in the company of a one-armed freak, anyway.”
           Freak. He’s one of those now. The kind that mothers cover their children’s eyes when they come across them. The kind that would hear every tiny little murmur and cry of disgust that people threw as he walked by, because his ears were perfectly fine, but his missing arm turned him into some sort of monster.
           “You’re not a freak, Buck, so stop calling yourself that.” Steve’s reprimanding tone bounced into his ear. “And this is exactly why I want someone to be there with you. It’s not right to leave you alone in this mental state.”
           Bucky scoffed. “Yeah, my mental state. You think paying someone to babysit me is going to help? ‘Cause I’m gonna tell you right now it’s not.”
           “They wouldn’t be there to babysit you. They’d be there to help you and to bring you companionship, at least until I know you’re okay by yourself.”
           Companionship. How’s companionship going to make his nightmares go away or make his sudden panic attack wisp into thin air? How’s companionship going to make him stop telling himself horrible things? How’s it going to make him human again? All he wanted was to feel human again, but it’s not like this companion is going to wash away years of war or bring back his arm. Where were they when he was knee deep in bloodied mud, sloshing around in the trenches trying to protect their freedoms?
           “I’m not putting out an ad, Steve. You can’t make me.”
           “You’re right, I can’t. That’s why I took the liberty of putting out the ad myself. If you don’t have anyone for me to meet by the end of the month, you’re coming to the Center. End of conversation.”
           “Punk.” Bucky breathed out just before Steve hung up.
           He slouched in his seat, dread overcoming him. His blue eyes wandered onto the worn copy of The Hobbit sitting on his coffee table. He didn’t need a companion, he already had one. Grabbing the book, he ran his hand over the weathered cover before thumbing through the coffee and potato chip-stained pages. All he needed was a good book to take him away from all the chaos. A world where he could imagine himself there as a warrior, with two arms, fighting mightily alongside the Company as they took on Orcs and Wargs, swords clutched tightly in their hands. There he could be anyone, conquer anything. And all he wanted right now was to be anyone but himself.
~~~~~
           You were doomed. So doomed. Walking out of the office last week with fire in your eyes as you said to your boss, “I’m not working for you anymore, ‘cause I can find someone who can appreciate my time way better than your skimpy excuse for a check every month.” Seemed like such a grand idea until you realized you hadn’t had any other jobs in mind. You were looking for a job, but nothing was piquing your interest in the slightest. You were down to your last leg checking the newspaper ad section, of all places, to find a potential job.
           The cap of your red sharpie marker was caught between your teeth as you circled an ad for a jailer position. At least that would be somewhat interesting. You’d probably meet lots of new people. Criminals, sure, but that’s what made it interesting. Your eyes flitted down the browned paper, your other hand sticking to the paper uncomfortably. Just as you were about to set the paper down in a huff, your eyes landed on the last ad square. It was a simple one. A Nice Person Needed. Call xxx-xxx-xx for more information
           Now that piqued your interest. You considered yourself a pretty nice person, well, you were friendly to everyone who deserved it. Which was basically everyone except your scumbag of an ex-boyfriend Bradley. He completely burned that bridge and spread the ashes everywhere. It wouldn’t hurt to call the number. Maybe they just needed someone to talk to for a bit. You had plenty of time before you needed money for next month’s rent. You just needed to find a job in a week. Grabbing your phone, you carefully typed in the number, not wanting to screw up the number and end up calling some creepy construction worker with a bad smoker cough.
           Checking the number one more time, your finger hovered over the call button. Biting your lip, you pressed down and brought the phone to your ear. It rang a couple times before a smooth “Hello?” traveled through the screen.
           “Um, hi. I saw your ad in the paper about needing a nice person. I was just calling to say I could help.” You said hoping this was the guy who actually put the ad out.
           “O-oh. Uh, trust me, you don’t want to help me. I’m…scary.” His voice was a soft baritone, and honestly, you could have fallen asleep to it.
           “Look, I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t want to help. And you can’t be that scary. You got like three eyes or somethin’?”
           “Try a missin’ arm, doll.”
           Your brain froze for a second at the way he said doll. You liked it. “So what? Do you need help carrying something?”
           “You want to help me carry the weight of PTSD and inevitable depression?”
           Wow. That wasn’t what you were expecting to hear from his mouth, but okay then. “Well, I don’t know how much I can do, but I can try.”
           You heard him sigh on the other side of the line. “Sleep on it. Call me back tomorrow if you really want a job helping me. I give you more details if you call me back.”
           “Wait, so will I be getting paid for this?” You asked sitting up straighter on the couch.
           “Like I said, I’ll give you more details if you call me back tomorrow.”
           “Okay then. Guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow then.”
           “Just…” You could almost picture his exasperated exhale. “Just sleep on it. Don’t make your decision now. Goodbye.”
           He hung up before you could say it back. You were so calling him back tomorrow. Looking into your kitchen, you shook your head. You didn’t really feel like making anything today. Guess you were having Chinese takeout tonight.
~~~~~
           Bucky tossed his phone onto the coffee table with a sigh. Whoever was on the other end of the line was going to inevitably call him and he was not looking forward to that. You didn’t seem fazed that he was missing an arm though, so that was something. Bucky groaned. He wasn’t exactly jumping for joy looking for someone to share his apartment with. It had plenty of room, he just didn’t want to share. But when did anyone ever care about what he wanted?
           He was banking on you declining the offer once he brought up having to live with him and seeing him all the time. That should scare off all the well minded people, so if he did find someone who was willing to live with him at least he’d know they’re crazy. He honestly wasn’t expecting someone to call him so soon, but maybe this person was just desperate.
           A sharp pain caused Bucky to squeeze his eyes shut tightly. He moved his right hand quickly to press against his left nub of a shoulder. The pressure seemed to ease the pain and he let out a huff. Images of the war flashed through his mind as his eyes stayed squeezed shut for too long and he shot his eyes open, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Why was he like this? He hated himself. Absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt hated himself.
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collisiondiscourse · 3 years
Text
meet you in the middle // bkdk (ch. 306) fic
Katsuki meets him at the edge of the world.
Standing on the rubbles of a once-thriving city that his people had called home, Katsuki sees him at a distance. A lone figure, standing beside broken statues that overlook a cliff of failures and broken promises. Katsuki sees him at a distance and feels something inside him break like a dam of something unmentionable. The glass beneath his worn combat boots crunches and cracks like the remains of his heart, every step heavy with the weight of the world around him slipping unto drooping shoulders. He says nothing, knowing the other runaway could hear his approach all the same.
Deep purple bruises set themselves under dull viridian eyes, the mixture of color out of place but lovely all the same. His hair’s a mess--greasy in the way that tells Bakugou he hasn’t showered in days, yet Katsuki would love nothing more than to bury his face in the tangled mass of green. The suit and armor he wears is torn, dented, fractured, dirty; it’s scarred like the skin it tries its best to hide. Deku stands still and watches him approach.
The blond halts in his steps.
In that moment, when red and green meet at the edge of the world, time stops completely. The broken concrete beneath their feet feels like a vast and endless void of nothing, silence wrapping around them beautifully and painfully. Between them, the few meters feel like blocks, to miles, to lightyears apart.
It is endless.
Between them, there is pain and sorrow. There is a hurt so deep that neither of the boys could begin to comprehend it--old scars and fresh wounds mending and tearing open, pace akin to the shift of the weather. Between them, Katsuki can feel things that feel like they should be impossible but aren’t. Between them, Katsuki can feel the contradictions that ripple beneath the surface of their skin.
Between them, Katsuki can feel it all.
The distance is staggering. It chases after the two of them like they had chased each other, something like a curse that pulls them apart while simultaneously keeping them at arm’s length.
Katsuki used to beg for it, he knows. (God, does he know.) He used to spend day-by-day stretching that distance, yanking the string that kept them tied together in hopes that eventually it would snap.
Yet that same distance had become something he’d grown to hate. He hated it in the way that it caused Izuku to close himself to the world and nearly cost him his life when Shigaraki had pierced him in battle. He hated the way it shut doors and cuffed him to his hospital bed when he’d found out that Deku was in a coma.
And he hated that distance the most when it brought Deku all the way here.
“Kacchan,” Deku says, the old nickname leaving his mouth simultaneously like a prayer and a pained gasp of fear. “Why are you here?”
The ‘why’ rings in the blond’s head like the sound of a gunshot, piercing and painful at the audacity to even ask such a thing. Why? Why did I come here? Why did I leave everything I’d ever dreamed of in order to chase your dumbass here?
Because. Why the fuck wouldn’t I come here, Deku?
“I got your letter,” Katsuki grunts out instead. His hands clench and unclench, tired and a little bit pained from his journey to find Izuku as fast as possible. The stupid fucking paper rests inside the pants pocket of his hero costume, setting his insides ablaze and leaving the taste of battery acid at the back of his throat.
“You still shouldn’t have--”
“--Shouldn’t have what, Deku?!” He inevitably yet suddenly explodes. The green-haired boy startles from across the building’s roof, jaw shutting with an audible click. “Shouldn’t have dropped out of UA? Shouldn’t have left every single person that loves me and sent myself out on a suicide mission? Shouldn’t have left my fucking mother without even a proper ‘goodbye’?!”
Deku snaps, “You damn well know it wasn’t that simple, Kacchan--”
“It never fucking is! It never fucking is that simple, Deku! You think I wanted to abandon our class? You think I didn’t care about the fucking fact that I just dropped out of UA and will probably never become a fucking pro-hero because of it? I destroyed my own dreams, you idiot!”
“Then go back!” the other boy replies, furious tears welling in his eyes. Katsuki feels paralyzed, unable to move through the surge of emotion that overtakes his mind. Deku takes a step forward, shaking so hard that the blond fears he might pass out. “Go back, you ass! Don’t let me take anything more from you, Kacchan, just please don’t. I can’t handle something like that! Go back and become the number one hero like you always promised, please.”
(A dozen meters apart.)
Izuku’s voice trembles and wavers, desperation seeping from his figure as teardrops fall to the tarmac below. He stands firmly on his two feet, but Katsuki can feel the way his heart begs on its knees. Bakugou’s glare softens.
“I can’t do that, Deku.”
He sniffles. “Why not?”
Tentatively, Bakugou takes a step forward, pacing himself. He opens his mouth to answer, but can’t seem to find the right words and looks away with a frustrated snarl. Deku’s eyes, red-rimmed with agony, peer up at him through his unruly green hair and the wound on Katsuki’s abdomen throbs with heat.
“...Because. I nearly died for you, didn’t I?” the blond eventually replies. “Because I know you think that that means you have to go and fucking do things alone because you don’t want me to nearly die for you a second time, but that’s exactly fucking it.” Katsuki huffs. He takes another step further, watching Deku crumple to the ground as sobs rack his figure.
“Kacchan got hurt, but it wasn’t your battle. It’s mine,” he chokes out anyway, stubborn as he is in the way Bakugou had grown to admire. As much as the blond’s soul rattles with anger, with hatred at the society that forced his childhood friend to bear the weight of the world upon his shoulders, he forces himself not to shout.
(Five meters apart.)
“‘Wasn’t’, was the word. Now, it is. I’m not letting you do this alone whether you fucking like it or not, shitty nerd.” Katsuki sucks in a breath. “You never gave me a choice, did you? I didn’t have a choice into knowing about your cursed fucking quirk, I didn’t have a choice into you leaving us to fight Shigaraki alone, I didn’t have a choice in knowing whether you’d be okay or not in the hospital after I myself nearly fucking died--and now that I finally goddamn do have that choice, you better make sure you let me have it, Deku.” Another step.
Deku lets out an anguished gasp for air between his hiccups and tears, and wails, “But why? Kacchan, you have the choice to be safe and let yourself win without One for All getting away! Why would you let me bring you more harm like this?!”
“Because you never fucking let me apologize to you, shithead!” The blond succumbs at last, yelling in hurt and in pain. The distance between them is so small, yet every goddamn particle feels like a world’s away in which Kacchan and Deku were made to fall apart. His skin prickles, air buzzing with the energy of a feeling so big contained in something so small. The moment suspends itself in time, fragile as glass and broken shards twice as painful, “I wanted to say that I was sorry, okay?!”
“Kacchan--”
Bakugou growls, “No. Let me say this, Izuku.” He waited, so goddamn long, for an opportunity to say what he wanted--no, needed--to say. The distance that felt like a whole galaxy between them burned something fierce, a serendipitous inevitability that felt like it was reaching its boiling point as the world around them reduced to ashes. The blond musses up his hair and exhales heavily, letting his angry demeanour calm for Izuku’s sake.
“I used to resent you. So much.” Katsuki starts. He’s close enough to Deku that he can see the subtle way the shorter boy scrunches his brows together, letting out a shaky breath of incredulousness. “When we were in middle school, I tormented and bullied you under the guise of hating you for something that you couldn’t control.”
“The truth is, that wasn’t why I resented you.” He blows out a breath. Deku looks up at him in shock, so Bakugou ploughs on. “I resented you because I didn’t understand you. At that time, I couldn’t understand how anyone, especially someone virtually powerless like yourself, could somehow still be a better person--hell, a better hero--than I was.”
Ruby red eyes gazed at the horizon.
“I always thought myself to be the best at everything. Always knew I was destined for victory. That hasn’t changed,” Katsuki swallows as Izuku pulls himself back on to his feet. Now standing, Izuku looks at him as if he’d suddenly had the revelation of his life, (which, Bakugou assumes, was paramount to this in any case.) “What has changed now though… is that I think I finally get it.”
He coughs.
“... I think I finally get you,”
(Two meters.)
“Katsuki… I’m--” Deku swallows, eyes shiny again as he tries to compose himself. He nods at the blond and in that instant Katsuki knows he’s been forgiven a long time ago. The distance tugs at the pit of his stomach, feelings of something warm and strange writhing inside. What once was a flood of misunderstanding that crashed and pulled the two of them apart had dried into a lively valley. Deku takes a step closer.
“But it isn’t just that anymore,” the blond is quick to blurt out. He looks at Deku and for once instead of a regretful past or an ongoing development, he thinks he sees a future.
“If this were all for atonement, I wouldn’t have left UA like you said. It’s… deeper. I’m workin’ on it, but there’s just something that pulls me to do this. It pisses me off, but it also makes me want to keep you at an arm’s length.” Katsuki shakes his head at the bullshit that spews out from his own mouth.
“I don’t fucking know what it is, but I know how it makes me feel.”
Izuku stares into his eyes, wide and innocent in a way that used to make him angry but now only makes him… dazed. “And how does it make you feel, Kacchan?”
He huffs a laugh of rueful acceptance. “Fucking weird. Like I suddenly want to chase you to the ends of the fucking earth just to make sure you’re alive. Like I want to be close to you again and again and again even in our next fucking lives.”
Katsuki takes another hesitant step forward.
“I want a lot of things now. I want shit that I can’t name but I sure as hell know won’t relate to becoming the number one hero. I want to keep you within sight, keep you close and alive because of the fact that it’s you and nothing else. I want…”
(Three feet.)
The distance around them is reduced to a little less than an ache. Issues like theirs aren’t solved overnight, but for the small distance they have between each other it feels less like a curse and more like the moment before an inevitability. They can’t quantify all that they are to each other--can’t begin to measure it in fickle things like centimeters or miles or inches or lightyears--but in that moment Katsuki supposes one could label what they have as ‘love’.
He’s never spoken this much in such a short amount of time, never let himself be wordy when his concise speech was efficient and easy. Yet, something about freckles and scars and green hair makes him want to run his fucking mouth off and list his every feeling under the sun. The vice-like grip over his heart that had been there since the moment he’d woken up in the hospital eases a little, and Katsuki’s broken heart feels like it is coming home.
(Two feet.)
“You want…?”
Katsuki looks into Izuku’s eyes, really looks. He looks and he sees life and salvation and something that he’d been missing for so long that tasting it for the first time has left him wanting like a man in a desert. He reaches out an arm, now fully within reach and gives Deku a pleading and weak stare that says everything and nothing at once.
“I want everything that I can get. Everything you can give me. No matter what the cost.”
(One.)
Deku crashes into his embrace, pulling him close and meeting Katsuki somewhere in the middle as the chase finally fucking stops. To Katsuki, it feels like the birth of a star as the warmth engulfs him fully, setting alight to every one of his nerves. The feeling of holding Deku fills him with all the words he cannot name and it feels like he’s reached some impossible height at the top of the world.
The war has not been forgotten, and the road ahead of them is long, but the distance between Kacchan and Deku--Katsuki and Izuku--is now nothing more than a physical concept. The hug blurs the line between the two young heroes, shaping itself until it is indistinguishable where one ends and the other begins. There is a sensation, one that is burning like an inferno but comforting all the same because at this point in time, Katsuki vows to run after and find Izuku Midoriya in every lifetime after this, in every world that they’ll be in. He vows with all his heart that he’ll be the one to watch Deku while Deku watches the world, to protect Deku while Deku protects the others. Katsuki vows to take Deku for everything that he is and isn’t, wholly and unconditionally because the distance is gone and there’s nothing now that can stop him from following this boy to the ends of the universe.
Katsuki Bakugou vows all this because here, right now, on top of the ruins of a city he’d once known and arms full of a boy he’d been trying to chase for a lifetime--Katsuki comes home.
(Zero.)
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believinghurts · 3 years
Text
Their Daughter
Authors Note: I swear I posted this before, but I can’t find it anywhere on my account so I’m thinking Tumblr deleted it. I did add a little onto the end if this part so if you have read I would advise to read it again. Please don’t copy to other sites.
Warnings: yelling, crying, uhhhhh
The week and a half at Malfoy Manor passed way too fast for Ali’s liking. In all honesty, she wasn’t looking forward to spending the rest of her summer with the Weasley bunch and Potter. School started in three weeks as it was and she knew that she would be seeing plenty of them there, and spending even more time with them made her want to vomit. She felt like she was able to breathe when she was with the Malfoys. She missed her Uncles but spending so much time with Narcissa and her friends helped take her mind off of everything.
After their first trip to Diagon Alley, they want another time just Narcissa and Ali to spend some quality time together and that’s how Ali was ending up with a trunk so full she and Draco had to sit on it to close it, her friends were around the Manor a lot more. Pansy, Theo, and Blaise had stayed the night after their families had dinner together meaning that they all slept in the living room after talking late into the night. Ali was woken up by her aunt shaking her awake, telling her that if she wanted Blaise to stay breathing she needed to move. Somehow that night the two had ended up right beside each other with Ali’s head on Blaise's right arm while his left was under his head. This was something that Draco now used to blackmail Ali into doing things he didn’t want to do since he knew his father would murder any boy that so much looked at Ali.
Ali sighed before calling the house-elf to take her trunk downstairs. Doing a quick once over of her royal blue bedroom she grabbed her wand before making her way down the stairs. She left to go back home today and as excited as she was to see Regulus and Remus, the knot forming in her stomach at seeing Sirius made her ill. Her confidence had grown some after talking with Narcissa about what was going on at home. Cissa assured her that Sirius was just being Sirius and not seeing the hurt he was inflicting. Ali wanted to believe her aunt's words that he would come around more when he knew that the Malfoys were not a threat. She had made sure Ali knew that she was just as good if not better than the Potter boy because she didn’t judge anyone no matter their house. Draco was livid when he found out what was happening between Sirius and Ali, blaming it all on Potter for being the snake that he feared Draco was so much. Draco had made her swear that if Harry or anyone said anything to make her upset that she would write Draco right away and he would be there in a heartbeat.
“I knew that dress would look stunning on you,” Narcissa stood as Ali entered the living room. Ali smiled at her aunt as she kissed her on the cheek. She did a little spin when Narcissa motioned her to do so causing the dark blue dress to flare out at the bottom right above her knees. Cissa had insisted she bought it even if it wasn’t something Ali would have normally worn. She had paired it with her favorite white combat boots and black tights making the little white spots on the sleeves stand out even more. Narcissa hugged Ali once more, and Ali knew she didn’t want to send her back to Grimmauld Place, but school started soon and Ali wanted to spend some more time with Regulus and get her stuff ready. “We are going to miss you so don’t forget to write, and we will see you at the train station.”
Ali nodded, hugging her aunt close before moving onto Lucius who kissed her cheek wishing her good luck at home and to write if she needed anything. Draco was last, he tried to act indifferent, but Ali knew he didn’t want her to leave. She stuck her hand out causing him to roll his eyes before pulling her into a hug. Draco had grown quite a bit the last couple of years making Ali eye level with his shoulder. “Write to me the minute something goes wrong, and I’ll be there to save you. Potter be damned.”
Ali giggled, “Of course, Dray. Behave for mother, and make sure if you see our friends that you tell them I’ll see them soon.”
Ali grabbed her trunk while Lucius called for Winks the house-elf to come apparate Ali back home. She gave her extended family one last smile before grabbing Winks's hand. They landed across the street of Grimmauld Place, Ali gave Winks a bar of chocolate out of her pocket before bidding goodbye. She walked in the door hearing noise coming from the living room and dining area. It was just after lunch so she assumed everyone was still hanging out there. She debated going straight to her room first but decided not to. She pulled her trunk behind her till she reached the dining room. There everyone was, immediately Ali wished she was back at the Manor where it was peaceful and she wasn’t getting stared at like she was right now. She pulled down the sleeves on her dress a little more not noticing how big of a mistake that was.
She saw Regulus standing in the corner, he smiled at her. Regulus was happy that Ali got to stay away for a little bit. He was able to give Sirius a piece of his mind, which happened often, without Ali overhearing. Screaming matches could be heard coming from the study more often than not after someone made rude comments about Ali or her friends. Sirius still had acted like Ali was staying with the Dark Lord himself instead of family and it had pushed Regulus to the edge more than once. Regulus knew that Remus was on the same page as him, he was over the comments from Sirius. Regulus had noticed that Harry didn’t say anything bad about her or Slytherins if Remus was present. He had taken a liking to the oldest two Weasleys and Fleur, they were nice to Ali and Fleur often defended her by saying kind things. Regulus knew that Fleur stuck out in the Weasley family, he had seen the looks some of the younger ones would give her. He felt bad for her and often tried to make sure she felt comfortable, much like he knew she did for Ali.
Ali hugged her uncle tight, she had missed the safety feeling that came from burying herself in his chest. Remus was quick to join the two, squeezing Ali to him before kissing her head. Ali quickly tucked herself back into Regulus' side. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, “How was it? Did you have fun?”
Ali smiled at him and Remus, “I did. Pansy, Blaise, and Theo stayed over after we had dinner with their families. Cissa took me shopping, twice mind you. Draco almost made the house explode with some potion he was trying to make to dye Theos hair. It was supposed to change with his mood, but instead, it ended up all over the ceiling. Aunt Cissa didn’t stop yelling at him for an hour,” She laughed at the memory of Draco’s face while his mother yelled that he had ruined her ceiling. “Um, what else?” She knew Regulus wanted to know exactly what she did. He was always interested in her life often making her tell stories from school in detail. She was never allowed to leave with just a generic ‘fine’ that some teenagers got away with. “Oh Lucius took us to Hogsmede, claiming that it was to get Cissa some sugar quills, but the number of chocolate frogs said differently. Oh, Cissa told me to tell you that she ordered me new school robes and that you needed to pick them up or she could bring them to the station.”
“You didn’t tell me you needed robes?” Regulus raised his eyebrow, surely she would have told him if she needed something like that.
“Oh I don’t, but Draco did since he grew again and Cissa said I should just get some so I have extras. I-”
“Why don’t you just brag some more,” an icy voice cut her off. Ali looked to see Sirius standing behind Harry with his hands on his shoulders. She hadn’t noticed him when she came in so she was wondering what all he had heard. She wasn’t bragging about anything. She knew the Weasley’s had financial problems, but this was her home. She was allowed to talk about things she did with her Aunts even if it was out spending an obscene amount of money.
“I-I wasn’t bragging,” Ali stuttered, “I just was telling Uncle Regulus what I-I had done.”
“Oh yeah right. You had fun, right? That’s good,” Sirius walked around the table towards Ali who naturally stepped closer to Regulus. Her uncle tensed when he saw that Ali was scared of his brother. “So why are you wearing long sleeves? It’s like 80 degrees out. You must be warm in them.”
“Sirius,” Remus’s tone was a warning. He knew what Sirius was thinking, but he had hope that Sirius knew not to do it.
Sirius ignored Remus continuing to walk towards his brother and daughter. “You decided that you wanted to match Regulus too? Spend some time with the Dark Lord the past couple of weeks?”
“Sirius you stop this instant she didn’t do anything,” Molly spoke up for the girl while pushing the other children out of the room. She tried to get Harry to leave but gave up after he insisted he stayed where he was.
“No, Molly, cause you to see Regulus was her age when he got the mark. And I’m starting to wonder if Ali doesn't have it as well. Spies the both of them. Playing the part of perfect uncle and niece. Show me your arm, Alianova.”
Ali stayed where she was, not moving an inch. She felt her breath pick up as Sirius walked closer. “Ali, I said show me your arm.” She shook her head no. She didn’t have anything to hide, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of listening to him. He hadn’t earned her trust or respect at this point. Sirius reached out and grabbed Ali’s arm. That was when all Hell broke out.
Sirius had enough time to push her sleeve up before he was shoved back by Regulus. Ali cried out when Sirius’s nails dug into her skin hard enough to bleed. Remus grabbed Sirius, pulling him back while he stared in shock at Ali who had tears streaming down her cheek staring at him in disbelief.
Regulus lunged at Sirius only to be held back by Bill Weasley, “Stop. Stop, Regulus. Ali needs you. Go.” He lightly pushed Regulus back towards Ali. Regulus felt this heart crack in his chest when he saw that Ali sitting on the floor holding her arm to her chest. Her tears dripping down her chin as she watched Remus pace in front of Sirius who was still looking at her.
Regulus knelt beside Ali gently pulling her arm to him revealing the four scratch marks on the pale flesh. Each had drops of blood running down the sides. Regulus grabbed the tea towel off the counter-pressing it to the wound. Ali leaned into his shoulder letting her tears catch on the fabric of his shirt. She was trembling from the shock that someone who was supposed to love her could hurt her like this. She had always known of the Black Temper; it was famous really. But even when she saw her grandmother and Regulus angry, they had never hurt her. Sirius was her father; it was his job to protect her was it not? She understood that he never wanted her, she was a mistake. Ali had come to terms when that a long time ago, but for him to actively hurt her shook her to her core. Ali was focused on Regulus, but from the corner of her eye, she could see Remus shaking with rage at Sirius. Regulus cupped her cheeks in his hands wiping away her falling tears. “Are you okay?”
She numbly nodded at her uncle. “Ali, I am so sorry-”
“NO,” The venom in Ali’s voice shocked those that were in the room as she stood with Regulus’s help. “No. You don’t get to apologize. You knew what you were doing and you didn’t care! You never have. And never will. I get it okay?” Ali walked towards Sirius so she was a couple of feet in front of him, but near the stairs to make her exit if she couldn't handle it anymore. “I know that I wasn’t planned or wanted. I know that I’m not Harry Bloody Potter, but you know what I am? I’m YOUR daughter. That doesn’t matter, does it? You don’t care that it's your job to raise me and protect me and love me. You never did it. I have no memories of you. Not one. My uncles told me how good of a parent you were when I was little, but I don’t believe that anymore. Hell, if someone told me you put me in a room and left me there it would be more believable.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose letting out a sigh. She never stood up to people much, but she was sick and tired of Sirius thinking he could act like this towards her. “I used to look up to you. I never listened to the bad things people said because I thought you were good. I wanted to make you proud of me even if I never got to meet you. Then you got out. But instead of coming for your flesh and blood, you came for him,” She flung her arm in Harry’s general direction. “You were never there for me. That’s fine too. Wanna know why? Because I have people who are always there for me. People who love me unconditionally, and make me see that I am enough. Do you know who those people are? A big chunk of them is the Malfoys. I had a lot of fun staying with them, but one of my favorite parts was when Lucius told me that even if you didn’t see how great of a daughter I was that he and Regulus did. The Lucius Malfoy made ME feel better because you treat me like rubbish.”
Ali walked closer to Sirius. The only noise in the room was coming from her, and if she stopped talking a pin dropping could be heard. Regulus was stunned by her outburst but knew deep down that it was coming. Sirius had pushed her too far, and once Ali was done it was going to take a lot more than Bill Weasley to hold him back. “I have never called anyone else ‘Dad’, but now I regret it. Regulus is more of my father than you could ever be. I hope you have fun with your son.” She spat looking Sirius in the eye before turning on her heel fleeing up the stairs. Tears fell again as she shut and locked her door behind her, sliding down the other side of it. Even if what she said was true it didn’t mean that it hurt any less knowing that Sirius would never choose her.
Downstairs Regulus was fuming. He was shocked that Ali called him ‘dad’ even if he had wanted that for as long as he could remember. But the other part of him wanted to break Sirius in half. He felt the rage coming back from when he was a child. He felt the urge to kill but knew that he wouldn’t. He couldn’t think of himself, he had too much at stake. He hadn’t been able to think of himself for the last fifteen years. Sirius had done a lot of messed up things in his life, but this took the cake. Regulus forgave him a long time ago for him leaving, and for the bullying that he did to Regulus through school, but this was unforgivable. Ali was a child who didn’t understand why she wasn’t good enough or why her father was hell-bent on her being on the side with the Dark Lord when she was the furthest away from him.
Regulus stood brushing off his hands on his pants before stalking towards Sirius how a predator stalks its prey. He saw Bill and Arthur move forward a few inches more than likely ready to intervene if needed. Remus’s eyes had a little more green in them than normal probably due to the rage he was feeling and the fact that the full moon was less than a week away. It was honestly shocking that Remus hadn’t thrown Sirius into the wall yet. Regulus stopped when he was toe to toe with his brother.
“How dare you do what you just did to her! She is a child, Sirius. She is supposed to be your child,” Regulus’s voice was eerily calm when he spoke making the hairs on Remus’s neck stand from the amount of venom present. “Frankly I have no idea how she is half you. All she wanted to do was get away from all the stress that has come from living here the past couple of months. She has been a shell of herself since you came back really, but when she came through those doors I saw her coming back to herself. That couldn’t happen though, could it? Had to accuse her of having the Dark Mark, which she didn’t, but when she refused to show you because she doesn’t owe you anything you hurt her. You made her bleed. She is your daughter and you made her bleed. Do us all a favor and leave her alone. I opened this home to you and the Order because it was the right thing to do. Ali agreed that she wanted to help, but this can’t keep happening. I can’t put her at risk anymore. So leave her alone and if she sheds another tear because of you then you will leave.”
Sirius stood stunned. His younger brother hadn’t stood up for himself even when they were children. That was the most he had heard Regulus talk in his life. He felt bad that he had hurt Ali, he never meant to, but he has to protect Harry and the Order. He doesn’t trust the Malfoys and Ali had been there. How was he to know that she didn’t have the Mark? All she had to do was show her arm. Simple really. He glanced around the room as Regulus walked away not waiting for his response. Sirius knew that Regulus meant what he had said. Molly had started cleaning up the kitchen with a sad look in her eyes, while Arthur and Bill had left the room. Remus met his eyes but shook his head at him disappointed. “Come on, Harry. I need a walk.”
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Ali wasn’t sure how long she had been sitting on the floor of her room. It was quiet downstairs which was concerning, but she didn’t think much of it. Hopefully Regulus hadn’t killed Sirius, but if he did she wouldn’t blame him. She had cried herself numb. She didn’t have any tears left, her throat was scratchy from the sobs. Part of her wanted to go back to Malfoy Manor where she was safe and welcomed, but the other part of her wanted to find her uncle and have him read to her like he did when she was a child.
A knock at her door pulled her from her musings. “Al? Open the door darling. It’s just me.” Regulus’s voice came from the other side.
Very slowly Ali stood up leaning onto the table by the door for support. She turned the lock and instantly Regulus opened the door. He kissed her forehead before leading her to her bed. Ali had yet to change out of her dress, but she didn’t really care. Regulus snagged the blanket off the foot of her bed before gently pushing her down into it and covering them both with the blue and silver blanket. Ali positioned herself with her head on Regulus' shoulder. Exhaustion weighing down heavy on her. Even though it was early she could feel her eyes droop as he carded a hand through her hair. “Thank you, dad. For loving me.”
Regulus’s heart swelled and broke with those words, but he didn’t get a chance to respond before her soft snores filled the room.
———————-
Regulus wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he stroked his niece's hair. He was mad at his brother for basically throwing away the only good thing that had ever come from the Black family. Sirius was too blinded by the past to see what was right in front of him. As children, Sirius often told Regulus that he was their family's favorite and that it bothered him, but if he knew what it was like to be less loved then how can he love Harry more than Ali? He understood that Harry was Sirius's Godson, but couldn’t he love Ali and Harry equally. If Sirius made the effort maybe Ali and the other children could even be friends. His heart ached from the emotional battle that Ali was going through right now. Even if Sirius didn’t see it, he and Remus did. Ali’s light was dimmer than before and just when she was lighting up again Sirius snuffed it out.
Carefully sliding out from under Ali and placing a pillow under her head Regulus left the room. He shut the door behind him casting a locking spell so she wouldn’t be bothered. He needed to speak with Remus first before doing anything. They needed to decide what to do about Ali. As much as Regulus wanted to spend time with her before she went back to school he didn’t want her to be this upset anymore. He walked into the study to find Remus and Nymphadora sitting near the fireplace.
“How is she?” Nymphadora blurted the question as soon as she saw her cousin. Remus had owled her after Ali had gone to her room. The older sister in her wanted to go up to Sirius and give him a piece of her mind, but she knew that it wouldn’t do any good.
“She’s asleep for now. All the fighting has exhausted her. I honestly don’t know what to do. I want her here this is her home, but if Sirius doesn’t stop acting like the brut that he is it is going to hurt her more. Speaking of Sirius, where is he? It’s quiet.” Regulus flopped down on the chair across from Remus and Nymphadora raking a hand through his hair. His worry for Ali was causing him a headache. On one hand, he wanted to send Ali to stay at the Malfoy Manor for the remainder of summer, but on the other, he wanted to hold her close and have her stay in her home where she belonged.
“Sirius left with Harry after you went upstairs. He hasn’t been home since. The Weasleys stepped out to Diagonal Ally to get the kids stuff for school.” Remus replied. He was secretly thankful that the house was mainly empty. This way at least Ali could come down if she felt like it without the chance of someone bothering her. Remus was having the same thoughts as Regulus about keeping Ali at home virus's sending her to the Manor. HE just wanted his niece happy. The hope that he had of Airius and Ali having the father/daughter relationship was gone. If only Remus could get Sirius to open his eyes to the pain he was causing to the girl, but Sirius was nothing if not stubborn.
“I think I am going to write Cissa and see if she can keep Ali for the rest of summer. If that’s what it takes for her to be happy no healthy then so be it. We can see her off at the -“
“I don’t want to leave,” Ali’s voice interrupted. “I want to stay here with you. Please don’t make me leave. I can handle it, I promise.”
Ali knew that she and regulus were going to have to talks about the fact that she called him dad, but that was a private conversation. Right now she needed to convince the adults in the room that she didn’t need to leave. She could take Sirius. Yes the words that he had said hurt her and the actions he did tonight furthered that hurt in her heart, but she was done. She didn’t owe him anything, and it was clear she knew that he didn’t want to be her father. She had meant what she said to regulus. He was her father in all the ways that counted. He loved her unconditionally, was always there for her, and protected her.
She went and sat on the couch in between Nymphadora and Remus who wrapped an arm around her pulling her close to his chest. “It might be best if you went and stayed for the rest of the summer at the Manor, Al. This isn’t good for you mentally. We all can see how drained you are.”
“No, this is my home. I can handle it. I have you all plus the older Weasleys and Fleur. You all protect me and if I need to get away for a little bit I’ll owl Blaise or Draco to go to Diagonal Ally or something. I want to spend time with you. Times are hard right now and you never know when you are going to lose someone and I would like to have as much time with each of you just in case.”
Regulus leaned forward taking Ali’s hand in his, “nothing, and I mean nothing is going to happen to us. I love you more than you could ever imagine and if you want to stay here you can.” Ali smiles brightly at that before Regukus cut her off, “but you have to tell me, Remus, or Severus, if anything happens. And you have to come out of your room. I am not having you locking yourself away again. Got it?”
Ali pounced on Regulus hugging his neck tight. She was excited to spend some more time with her family. She had meant what she said about never knowing when something was going to happen. Wizards had been disappearing all over London and she was genuinely scared something was going to happen to her loved ones. She was going to make it a point to take plenty of photos and make enough memories to last a lifetime the next couple of weeks.
Regulus held his niece tight, fighting back the tears when she whispered, “Thanks, Dad,” into his ear. He had been called a lot of things in his life, but this was one title he was going to wear proudly.
Remus’s voice interrupted the moment, “wait for a second, why are you going to owl Blaise? We have an agreement young lady no boys till your thirty!”
Ali’s giggle was music to those in the room with her, and for the first time that summer they all saw Ali smile at home the brightest she had since everyone arrived.
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salut-imsyuka · 3 years
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Kono Hanasakuya-Hime - 𝓣h𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓾𝓫𝓾𝓼
So here’s my entry for @ladykendalsims​​ BC ! Again thank you so much for the extra time darling ♥ I’m sorry that I couldn’t send it on time !
Outdoor Enthusiast - Kleptomaniac, Loves Outdoor, Materialistic
My bachelorette's name is Kono, she's a 41 years old sim !
Kono is omnisexual, her pronouns are she/her
She may seem rather cold and cynical at first, but Kono has very little confidence in herself, she is trying to protect herself !
She has a rather sharp and very dry sens of humour
The gang she was in called her « The Succubus »
She’s a former prostitute
Kono has an immeasurable passion for flora, she is a pro when it comes to making concoctions, poisons and filters of all kinds, she would be very helpful in Crimson's shelter has she also masters gardening
Kono is not gifted in combat. To be honest, since the virus she focuses on improving her botanical abilities, she barely knows how to use a gun ! (but she always hides a pretty dagger in her boots)
She travels with a female doberman called Ba, she is her faithful companion
Born in the pale and frozen flanks of Mount Komorebi, Kono grew up in the very essence of the traditions. Yet she did not want to lock herself in the archaic straitjacket of custom. Indeed, she could not curb her inextinguishable thirst for adventure and left as soon as possible her home to discover the extent of the world that was open to her. So she landed in the dazzling town of San Myshuno, far too big and vicious for this little, naive woman who thought she could put the world at her feet. (more in depth story below)
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Her pumps, far too high for her, slammed the lino's floor in the hotel room. It occasionally annoyed her neighbors of rooms, young women, who, like her, were tempted by the lure of gain ; each had their reasons : to make money easily, to pay food for their children, or to pay for their education, as Kono's case. She often oscillated between college classes and passing with clients, an unhealthy rhythm that allowed her, in spite of everything, to perhaps one day, after all the efforts and work that she provided -- especially hope -- finish her degree in botanic. But she ended up in a shabby hotel room, like all those girls who, like her, had their head full of dreams. Kono was caught in a vicious circle. She robbed her clients on the orders of her pimps, when she realized that she could earn much more than she imagined, she could no longer resist stealing, not without scruples.
In the mirror riddled with blinding white LEDs, she often looked at herself to touch up her gloss, her eyeshadow that sometimes flowed ; and with a stroke of a brush she became again the pretty doll adored by her customers. In a whisper comming from the hollow of her lips she repeated to herself, in a loud voice and standing proud in front of her reflection, that she was the best, that she was strong, powerful and beautiful, that one day her dreams would be within her reach. Only, she could not look at herself very long in the mirror, her atrocious reflection reminded her of the biggest mistake of her life, she embodied this mistake. She could see her younger self  in her disguting reflection : a joyful little girl like the others, running through the frozen and arduous forests of Mount Komorebi. Each plant, each flower, she tried to gather them all in a small notebook with pages that were twisted by the snow. It was decorated with drawings of children and coloured with paint. It was as if she had never existed, or worse, as if Kono had slaughtered her childhood dreams with a backhand.
Kono has never had particular problems with romantic relationships : sure of herself and very enterprising, she was not afraid to trigger discussions, she even liked contact rather well. But it was over. Erased by prostitution, she thought, sincerely and from the depths of her heart not to deserve a single ounce of love, if not the one that her clients gave her : false, livid, she was the loved toy, but the one that you didn't want to take care of, because it was dirty and worn out ; instead, it was the doll that was passed from hand to hand for a limited time, a session of pleasure that did not exceed twenty minutes. She had wasted herself all her chances of one day meeting love, she was convinced. Still stuck in her tight dresses and lingerie, she thought she was worthless to anyone, to herself. As a result, Kono has a rather dismal relationship with her body, she has difficulty in taking into consideration her fleshly envelope, seeing herself only as a way of satisfying the urges of men. She therefore had little confidence in herself, and hid herself badly behind her make-up and her style, which, as she hopes, discourage anyone from approaching her.
In the misfortune of others she thought she could find a way out with the zombie virus spreading. She could leave the gang that had held her on a leash for many years, she was now the mistress of her own destiny. In the occasional panic sown by the hordes of zombies, she had, during a fiery afternoon, taken advantage of the surrounding panic to flee, bringing with her women who, like her, were alienated to the gang. They had become her sisters, her friends, her daughters, her family. For about fifteen years Kono took care of these girls as a mother would have done, each with her skills participated in the life and prosperity of the shelter. But Kono realized that she had never lived for herself. She, of such an independent and adventurous nature, had never taken care of herself. She left the shelter under the protection of Jolynn, a young woman who had followed her when she ran away from her gang. Jolynn, like all these girls, was a former prostitute, unlike Kono, she had warm blood, but Konno was sure that it would serve the protection of the shelter, she had blind confidence in the young woman ; and for good reason, they had a truly merging relationship. That’s how she went out on the roads to discover herself. Deep down, Kono was just a human, but she was about 40 years old, it was now or never. (btw I’d like to add that I am aware that sex workers aren’t always forced to do their jobs (there isn’t always a pimp behind), it was only the turn I wanted Kono’s story to take. I fully support sex workers ♥)
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benevolentsam · 3 years
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They hit up a Goodwill a week before Sam's 16th birthday. It's kind of an apology, since Dean and their dad would be gone again before April let out. Sam tried not to care. She'd buried the anger she felt when John had told her, spent so long scubbing a blood stain out of one of his shirts that she'd ripped a hole in it. Nothing she couldn't fix, but she hadn’t bothered. He hadn't asked about it, so she would worry about it later. Worry about her actual birthday later. Dean was taking her shopping and she couldn't remember the last time she had something new. A whole $25 dollars to spend on herself. The shelves were full of crap she'd never wear. There were knitted sweaters that just seemed too homely for someone without a home. Colourful tees, too bright. Sam liked dark colours, liked when the boys at school called her a witch. Maybe they'd seen The Craft one too many times. But if they stayed away from her, Sam didn't care. And when she saw the navy blue slip dress, she had to have it. It was worn in places, the fabric just a bit too thin, but Sam could sew it up if it tore. When she held it against herself, it rested perfectly. Maybe a bit big for her spindley body but. It was perfect enough. "Dean, look!" Dean frowned when he saw the dress. He had his fingers on another Metallica shirt, they slipped away. The space between them, only an aisle, felt like an ocean. "You know how Dad feels about dresses, Sammy," Dean said. And maybe he was right, because John was always funny when Sam dressed like a girl, but she still wanted it. Flashed Dean her prettiest eyes. "You know boys'll just try 'nd look up your skirt?" "It comes to my calf, I think it'd be a bit obvious if they tried," Sam laughed. Dean didn't. He worried his lip, frowned, forehead crinkling. "I'd wear a shirt under it, you know?" But Dean obviously wasn't convinced. So she hung the dress back up on the rack and went to look at jeans. Hoped there was a pair that fit her better than Dean's hand-me-downs. There were some other gems in the store. She found a Hole tape for her Walkman. There were some pulp crime novels that she could fill up her time with. A pair of blue jeans and a few worn out band tees. Punk bands from the 70s, stuff she barely recognised from the radio. And of course she bought Dean his new Metallica tee. She hoped he'd wear it when he was away on his next hunt, think of his little sister spending her sweet 16 alone. Maybe she was a little bitter. Tried harder not to care. And when they got in the Impala, Dean let her put in her new tape. He paused before he started the ignition. They sat, Sam waited but Dean didn't seem to want to move. Then- "I'm sorry, Sammy, I shouldn't have got snappy with you in the store." And was ready to forgive him, it's okay forever poised on the tip of her tongue. But Dean was thrusting something in her hands. "I'm sorry." Sam was holding a dress. The dress. It felt so soft in her hands. She flung her arms around her brother, hugged his neck so tight she accidentally choked him. "Thank you," she whispered. And she whispered it again and again until Dean was sick of hearing it. "Yeah, yeah, kiddo. Just don't tell Dad how much we spent because I had to five finger discount that." And they were back to their usual routine. Dean was frowning, trying to look cool. Like he didn't care about his little sister at all. Sam was smiling, trying not to think too far ahead. Like she didn't care her brother would be leaving in a couple of days. Again. She wore the dress the next day. She had school, and afterwards her and Dean were going for milkshakes and a movie. She wanted to look her best. Wanted to feel pretty, just once. So she wore the dress, Led Zeppelin shirt underneath, and combat boots. She pulled her tangled hair back, half up half down, clipped tight and out of her face. And maybe she was pretty. John was awake as she stepped out of the bathroom. Sat on the sofa cleaning his guns. He pulled a face when he saw his daughter. "Sammy, sweetheart, you look so... pretty," he said. There was a bottle of whiskey by his foot, not even 8am. He paused for a minute while Sam stood there, arm stretched across herself to hide her stomach. "You uh... You look just like your mother." And bile rose in the back of Sam's throat. So much so that she wanted to get changed. Rip the dress off and never wear it again. But Dean was stood by the door, car keys in hand and ready to go and Sam couldn't be late for school but God. She felt sick. She climbed in shotgun, bit back tears. "You do look pretty, Sammy," Dean said. "But you don't look like Mom. Don't even have the right hair colour. Dad's just sentimental, ya know?" Dean was laughing. Not a real laugh, but one to fill up the awkward space. And Sam was nodding, because she needed so desperately to believe him. "I know you’re not used to it, but it suits you. And if any guy gives you crap or creeps on ya, point ‘em out to me when I pick you up and I’ll kill ‘em. ‘Kay?" "Okay?" "Sam, you look good. Very... you." "Thanks, Dean." Because like Sam is all she really wanted to be.
@fascra
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