#this is my life with my 73 year old mother

[ynjeonghoney]

in this lifetime and the other — yoon jeonghan (A)

Sypnosis: Growing old with your significant other is a life goal. Your secret? Spending time with each other, cherishing every moment as if it were your last. But as the years passed, you begin to realize that remembering these moments was becoming increasingly difficult.

✦ pairing: husband!yoon jeonghan x wife!reader ✦ genre: heavy angst with a sprinkle of fluff ✦ word count: 8k ✦ warnings: reader has dementia, major character death

A gentle hush enveloped the morning in the heart of a serene nursing home. Within its comforting walls, the residents engage in activities — seasoned hands delicately weave intricate patterns in a tapestry of memories. Nearby, the aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air as a small gathering eagerly absorbed the secrets of the kitchen. In a sunlit corner, brushes danced upon canvases, bringing to life vibrant hues and silent narratives.

Each of these elders bore witness to history, and their stories carried the weight of generations. It was a humbling experience, conversing with individuals who had traversed the many twists and turns of life, each one holding a treasure trove of meaningful anecdotes and invaluable wisdom. It was something that would make someone stop in their tracks, compelled to listen to their stories.

The nurses moved about the nursing home with efficiency, their kind smiles and warming presence a constant reassurance to the residents. As the day unfolded, families visited, filling the halls with laughter and warmth. Children darted around, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the slower pace of the elders. Amidst the hustle and bustle of visitors coming and going, there were quiet moments of tenderness – a grandchild holding their grandparent's hand, a daughter brushing her mother's hair, a son sharing stories from his own life.

"Good morning, my love," the old man's voice, gently broke the stillness of the morning. His eyes, soft with affection, met yours as you stirred awake, the unfamiliar term of endearment sending a ripple of confusion through your mind. You searched your memory in vain, trying to place him in the of tapestry your life, but he remained a stranger in your memory.

As you lay in bed, a faint sensation tickled the inside of your nose, a subtle reminder of the apparatus supporting your breathing. With a gentle touch, the old man reached out, his weathered fingers brushing aside strands of your hair that had fallen across your face.

"Who are you? If I may ask?"

Blankly, you stared back at him, searching the depths of your mind for any semblance of recognition. But try as you might, his face remained a puzzle, an enigma shrouded.

Your voice grew faint, barely audible in the quietude of the room, yet the old man's keen ears caught the whisper of sound. A gentle smile graced his features as he gazed back at you. For him, you were not just a stranger lost in the labyrinth of forgetfulness, but a cherished figure, a memory preserved in the amber of his heart.

And as he looked upon you, it was not with the eyes of a stranger, but with the eyes of a lover, whose heart still beat with the fervor of a long-cherished romance.

"I'm your husband." He reached out for your hand, cradling it in his own palm, his touch a soothing caress against the back of your hand.

Staring at him in disbelief, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the fragmented memories that flickered dimly in the recesses of your mind, "I'm married?"

You added, voice lacing with confusion, "How long have I been married to you?"

A sudden impulse drew your gaze to your hand, and there, resting on your finger, gleamed a simple yet elegant wedding ring. With trembling fingers, you traced the contours of the ring, feeling its weight against your skin.

"73 years. October 1951."

"What year is it now?"

"2024." As your husband spoke, a wave of disbelief washed over you, rendering you momentarily speechless. You glanced at him, unable to comprehend the gravity of his words. His expression was etched with sorrow, lines of concern creasing his face.

You felt a pang of desperation clawing at the edges of your mind. You struggled to recall the name of the man before you, the one who claimed to be your husband. It felt like grasping at fleeting shadows, trying to hold onto something that slipped further away.

But then, like a bolt of lightning cutting through the darkness, his name surged forth from the depths of your memory.

"Jeonghan."

The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, forming a gentle curve. In that moment, any shadow of sadness seemed to vanish from his face, replaced instead by a glimmer of hope that danced in his eyes.

He gently cupped your cheeks. With a softness in his gaze, he leaned forward, closing the distance between you, until his lips met yours in a slow, tender peck. It was a moment Jeonghan wished could last forever. "Yes, sweetheart. It's me."

You smiled back at him, a flicker of warmth lighting up your face, but behind the facade of calmness, a whirlwind of questions still raged within your mind. Despite the tender moment you shared, there were still countless uncertainties gnawing at your consciousness.

Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door, and your nurse entered, a tray of breakfast in her hands. The aroma of freshly brewed tea and warm pastries filled the room.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Yoon." She set the tray down on the bedside table, arranging the food with care before turning her attention to you and your husband by your side.

"Thank you, Nurse Kim. I hope you have a great day ahead." Jeonghan said to the nurse, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. Nurse Kim's face lit up with a smile at his words.

"I wish the same for you both. And by the way, your children will be visiting at lunchtime. They're bringing your grandchildren as well."

In an instant, a flood of emotions surged within you – disbelief, confusion, and a profound sense of wonder. How could it be possible that you had children with your husband sitting beside you, whose name you struggled to remember mere moments ago?

"How many children did we have?" You finally managed to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper. The question felt surreal. How many children had you brought into the world together? How could you have forgotten such a fundamental aspect of your lives?

Jeonghan, the old man whose hand she had held through the trials and triumphs of their marriage, looked at her with a mixture of sadness and understanding. Closing your eyes, you tried to conjure up memories of laughter and tears, of tiny hands, but all you found was an empty void.

"Three children and eight grandchildren."

As you struggled to make sense of it all, there came a strange sense of euphoria wash over you. It was exhilarating, overwhelming even, to be confronted with the gist of your adventure with him. Each revelation felt like a piece of a puzzle slotting into place, painting a clearer picture of who you both were and how you both came to be.

"I want to know more, Jeonghan."

"About what?"

"Us."

June 28, 1947 — Santa Monica, California

Summer had arrived in all its glory, painting the world in hues of warmth and vibrancy. For you and your friends, the promise of adventure beckoned from afar, carried on the breeze that whispered through the trees. It was a day like any other, yet tinged with the anticipation of something extraordinary—a trip to the carnival.

As you walked along the path leading to the fairgrounds, you couldn't contain the excitement bubbling within you. The sun cast a golden glow upon the landscape, illuminating.

"It's been too long since we've had a day like this." Jihyo remarked, her voice filled with excitement.

Nayeon nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling, "I've been counting down the days until we could finally come here together."

"And just imagine all the rides and games waiting for us." Sana chimed in, her enthusiasm contagious.

With each step, the sounds of laughter and music grew louder, mingling with the sweet scent of cotton candy and popcorn that hung in the air. The carnival beckoned to them like a beacon of joy.

As you stepped through the entrance gate, all of you were immediately engulfed in copious sights and sounds. Colorful booths lined the pathways, each one offering its own array of delights and attractions. The air was alive with the melodies of carnival music and the laughter of children.

You begin to reminisce, "Remember when we were in preschool, we used to come to the carnival with our parents every summer and see who could eat the most cotton candy?"

Jihyo nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on her lips. "It's amazing how something as simple as cotton candy can transport us back to our childhoods."

But amidst the laughter and sugary treats, a more serious topic lingered in the back of their minds—college plans. With graduation looming on the horizon, the future weighed heavily on their minds, each of them grappling with their own hopes and dreams for the years to come.

"So, have you guys thought about what you want to major in?" Sana asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.

Jihyo nodded thoughtfully, her expression contemplative. "I've been thinking about being a teacher. There's something incredibly rewarding about teaching kids."

"How about you, Amelia?"

"That, I still don't know," You admitted, tone tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "To be honest, I'm still figuring out what I want to pur-"

As you were engrossed in conversation with your friends, you felt a something hard and heavy beneath you. Startled, you came to an abrupt halt as you see a football nestled at your feet. The impact was gentle, and you felt no pain, but the unexpected interruption had caught you completely off guard.

"My apologies if I've caused any inconvenience." A young man approached you, exclaiming breathlessly with a sheepish grin spreading across his face. You glanced down at the football in your hands, realizing that it belonged to him.

You handed the football back to him, "It's quite alright, not a major concern."

Both of your eyes met in a collision of worlds. His eyes, like rich orbs of deep, soulful pools of brown, bore into her, delving into the very depths of her being. They were more than just windows to a universe unknown; they were gateways to unexplored realms. How could someone have eyes so irresistible, like this young man standing before you?

Your mind raced with memories of high school football games and cheers that echoed through the bleachers. It was then that you remembered him—a key player on the team. Despite the familiarity, you couldn't let the conversation falter into awkwardness. With a gentle smile, you decided to break the ice with an obvious question.

You began, "Hey, aren't you…?"

He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, that's me."

"I thought I recognized you from somewhere." You admitted, a playful twinkle in your eye.

--- end of flashback ----

"The summer of 1947?" Frustration welled up as you struggled to grasp, eager to piece together the sentiments of your high school years. Yet, despite the efforts, not a single memory replayed in your mind. Instead, you found herself hanging onto every word as your husband regaled you with stories from your past.

Jeonghan nodded. His tales painted vivid images in your mind, with each word that flowed from his lips, his voice filled with warmth and nostalgia.

You felt a sense of wonder and fascination, as if you were discovering a part of yourself that had long been forgotten. It was as though through his eyes, you were able to glimpse a version of yourself that you had once been.

"The day after that, and the day after that, we went on dates."

August 3, 1947 — Malibu, California

Jeonghan led you to a secluded spot just near his family's beach house. Despite the bustling crowds that filled the shoreline, he guided you to a hidden spot known only to him.

As you followed him, his fingers intertwined with yours, the cacophony of laughter faded into the background and was replaced by the soothing rhythm of the ocean lapping against the shore. In this secret sanctuary, you found yourselves surrounded by the beauty of nature—a pristine stretch of sand framed by towering cliffs and swaying palm trees. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and sea breeze.

"Do you bring your friends here?" You asked, your voice carrying over the gentle lull of the ocean.

"It's the first time I brought someone here." Jeonghan's words stir a flurry of emotions with butterflies fluttering in your stomach, their delicate wings dancing to the rhythm of your racing heart.

"I always go here whenever I feel the happiest." He confessed, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "And I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather share it with than you."

You couldn't help but smile at him, "It's beautiful."

"Just like you, Amelia."

The sand felt soft beneath your feet, and you relished the sensation of the grains slipping between your toes. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape as it began its descent towards the ocean. You stole a glance at Jeonghan, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him.

He returned your gaze, his eyes shimmering in the golden rays of the sun, casting an ethereal glow over his glorious face. It was as though he was painted by the very hues of twilight, his presence captivating and mesmerizing. You found yourself getting lost once more in the depths of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from the magnetic pull of his stare.

Without a word, you and Jeonghan dashed across the sandy shore, your laughter blending in with the salty sea breeze. As you danced along the shoreline with him, the cares of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you, and the endless expanse of the ocean stretching out before you.

Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you scooped up a handful of seawater and flicked it at Jeonghan, your laughter ringing out like chimes in the breeze. Not to be outdone, Jeonghan retaliated with a playful splash of his own, the cool droplets landing on your shoulders.

Jeonghan's strong arms cradle you, his touch igniting a sense of security. As you wade deeper into the embrace of the ocean, the cool water envelops you, a welcome respite from the heat of the day. The waves rise and fall, each one cool and refreshing against your sunkissed skin.

Together, you and Jeonghan venture further into the deep waters, your bodies swaying effortlessly with the gentle currents. It is as though the sea itself has come alive, enfolding you in its embrace.

A tranquil stillness enveloped the ocean, and the tumultuous crashing of waves gradually subsided as Jeonghan delicately moved your hair aside. His gaze conveyed nothing but love and tenderness. With trembling anticipation, you watched as Jeonghan's gaze lowered to your lips, his movements deliberate and unhurried as he bridged the gap between you.

As your lips met in a kiss, time seemed to freeze, momentarily suspending all else—the roar of the waves, the whisper of the breeze, and the worries of the world. In that fleeting moment, there existed only the two of you, locked in an eternal embrace, your hearts beating as one.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Amelia."

The water feels like silk against your skin, a lover's caress that soothes your soul. You lose yourself in the sensation, in the sheer bliss of being alive in this moment with Jeonghan by your side.

And as the sunset dances upon your faces, you know deep in your heart that this is where you belong—by his side.

December 24, 1948 — New York City

Christmas in New York had always been a cherished dream for you ever since you first set foot in the city during your college years. The twinkling lights adorning the streets, the festive decorations decking every corner, and the palpable sense of joy in the air—it was a magical experience you looked forward to each year.

And of course, having Jeonghan alongside you in the bustling city, only added to the excitement. Together, you navigated the crowded streets, hand in hand, soaking in the holiday spirit that permeated every inch of the city.

Perched on a bench nestled on the enchanting landscape of Central Park, you and Jeonghan found yourselves entranced by the captivating scene unfolding before you. The tranquil atmosphere of the park was alive with the mirthful laughter of children, their gleeful voices echoing across the ice skating rink.

A comfortable silence surrounded you, broken only by the occasional soft murmurs of conversation from passersby.

His hand found yours, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Jeonghan seemed unusually subdued, his typically vibrant demeanor overshadowed by a veil of quiet contemplation.

You stole a glance at him, noting the furrowed brow and the distant look in his eyes. Concern gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, urging you to reach out, to break the silence that stretched between you like an unspoken barrier.

"Is everything alright?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken worry.

"Sweetheart, I'm leaving for London in a week." He said, his voice tinged with sadness.

On one hand, you couldn't help but feel overwhelming joy and pride as you watched him bask in the glow of his achievement—a scholarship to one of London's most esteemed universities. It was a dream come true, and you couldn't be happier for him.

Yet, beneath the surface, a wave of melancholy threatened to engulf you. The reality of his impending departure loomed. "Well, isn't that great news, my love?"

You tried to push aside your fears, to focus on the positive—the opportunities and adventures that awaited him in the bustling metropolis of London. But deep down, the prospect of a long-distance relationship lingered on your mind.

And as the day of his departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—joy and sadness, hope and despair. But through it all, one thing remained constant—the bond that connected you, heart to heart.

He sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest. There was no turning back now, "I don't know if I can bear to be apart from you for who knows how long."

That was his greatest concern—the uncertainty of what would become of the moments when you two were miles apart. With only letters as your primary form of communication, the distance between you would feel insurmountable. You knew that it was his dream, his aspiration to pursue his studies in London. Who were you to stand in the way of that?

The snow began to fall gently, swirling and twirling in the crisp winter air. The children, with their laughter echoing through the park, paused in their play to gaze up at the sky in wonder. Their faces lit up as they reached out to catch the falling snowflakes, their breath forming small puffs of white in the chill of the evening air. It was a moment of pure magic.

"Don't let this slip through your fingers." You reached out, your hand trembling as you tried to comfort him, but deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of him leaving. Every aspect of your existence rebelled against the idea of him being so far away.

You knew deep down that you had to accept this chapter of your lives, as painful as it may be. As much as it hurt you to see him go, it was a part of life, and it won't be like this forever.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him close as if trying to merge your souls in a hug. He nestled his head against your shoulder, his tears trickled with the falling snowflakes.

You held him for what felt like an eternity, cherishing every heartbeat, every breath, every fleeting moment you had left together. With a reassuring smile, you whispered, "I'll be waiting for you, my love." Your voice echoing with the weight of a thousand lifetimes.

"I'll come back for you, sweetheart." The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heartstrings.

May 8, 1949 — New York City

Ever since Jeonghan left for London, you had been receiving letters from him every month without fail. Every month, like clockwork, each envelope carried a piece of his life in London, his experiences, his struggles, and his triumphs. But amidst the vivid descriptions and anecdotes, there was always one recurring theme—his unwavering love for you.

In his letters, he conversed his soul, seeking solace in the thought that you were there, waiting for him on the other side of the world. It was a promise that echoed in every sentence and sentiment.

-

January 2, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, How are you, my darling? I hope this letter finds you well and wrapped in the warmth of our love, even from miles apart. It's only been a week since I left, but it feels like an eternity without you here with me. The days stretch on endlessly, each moment aching with your absence. Yet, amidst the longing, the thought of you—your smile, your laughter, and your love fill the empty spaces in my heart. London is a breathtaking place. And as I wander through its winding alleys, I can't help but imagine you by my side, your hand in mine as we explore this beautiful city together. I long for the day when I can take you here in London, to show you all the wonders that await us in this place. But until then, my love, know that you are always in my heart. Distance may keep us apart for now, but our love knows no bounds. My heart is yours. I love you, my darling Amelia. Love, Jeonghan

-

February 28, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, As I sit here in my room, surrounded by the bustle of university life, thoughts of you fill my mind and heart, bringing me peace and comfort in the midst of my studies. I must say, studying biology here is an enriching experience, my love. The professors are truly dedicated, and the training is rigorous. I want you to know that I am not taking any of these experiences for granted. I want nothing more than for this dream to be successful, not just for myself, but for us. I want to build a future that we've always dreamed of. I want to give you the life you deserve with me, sweetheart. Sometimes, I find myself having slow mornings, and I must admit, I love it. There's something magical about the stillness of the early hours. It's in these moments that I feel most alive, most at peace with myself and the world around me. How wonderful it would be to share these quiet mornings with you, to bask in the sunlight together and savor the simple pleasures of life. Just hang in there, my darling Amelia. Until the day we can be together again, know that I carry you with me always, in every sunrise, in every cup of coffee, in every beat of my heart. I love you. Love, Jeonghan

-

March 24, 1949 London, England To the love of my life, My heart is overflowing with emotions, and I find myself compelled to share with you that I am top of the class. Your unwavering belief in me fuels my determination. Your love and support have been my guiding light, a constant source of strength and inspiration. I can't help but long for you, my love. I want nothing more than to wrap you in my arms, to hold you close and celebrate this momentous occasion together. Your presence is the missing piece that would make this victory complete. Just a bit more patience, my darling Amelia. Always keep in mind that I love you dearly. Love, Jeonghan

-

April 11, 1949 Cambridge, England To the love of my life, I applied for a spot in a football team, and I am overjoyed to tell you that I have been accepted. My training is scheduled every Saturday, and I am eager to dive headfirst into the challenges and victories that await me on the field. However, I must admit that not everything has been smooth sailing. One of my teammates and I recently had a misunderstanding, but I want to assure you that it is nothing to worry about. I want to let you know that my schedule is about to become quite hectic in the upcoming months. Between school, football, and other obligations, my days are quickly filling up with tasks and responsibilities that demand my attention. But amidst the flurry of activity that threatens to overwhelm me, there's something I want to promise you. I will do my best to make time for you, to carve out moments in my busy life to sit down and write you a letter. You see, my love, you mean the world to me, and no matter how busy life gets, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Writing to you, sharing my thoughts and feelings with you, is a priority for me, one that I will never neglect or take for granted. So please, bear with me during these hectic months, Know that even when I'm not physically present, my love for you remains unwavering, steadfast and true. Sending you hugs and kisses! Love, Jeonghan

-

As the days stretched into weeks and then months, it became increasingly rare for you to find a letter from Jeonghan waiting in your mailbox. At first, you eagerly anticipated each delivery. But as time wore on, the letters grew scarce.

Your lives were like ships passing in the night, each of you navigating different paths, pursuing separate dreams. Jeonghan was immersed in the demanding world of medicine. Meanwhile, you were fully engrossed in your own studies, chasing after your aspirations in education, much like your close friend Jihyo.

"The mailman rarely comes by our place anymore. Has something happened between you and Jeonghan?" Your mother's concerned gaze pierced through the air as she spoke, her voice tinged with worry. She was used to seeing the mailman's familiar figure, always arriving with a handful of letters from your lover. But now, he seemed to be everywhere but your home.

The absence of his letters weighed heavily on your heart. It had become routine, almost expected, to not receive any letters from Jeonghan. At first, you had held onto hope, clinging to the belief that perhaps this time would be different, that a letter would arrive bearing news of his adventures and endeavors. Hope began to wane, replaced by resignation and acceptance.

You had grown accustomed to the silence. Deep down, you still held onto the belief that someday, somehow, Jeonghan would reach out to you, that your paths would cross once again, and the silence would be broken by the sound of his voice.

--- end of flashback ----

You listened to Jeonghan, "You thought I was cheating on you."

"But believe it or not," he continued, his voice softening with sincerity, "I always talked about you to my friends. You were always on my mind, your name constantly on the tip of my tongue. I made sure everyone knew you were my girlfriend."

In the depths of his soul, you were the epitome of beauty, a vision of grace and elegance that captivated his heart from the moment he laid eyes on you. Despite the distance that separated the two of you, he made it his mission to ensure that the world knew you were his, that you were loved beyond measure.

For Yoon Jeonghan, you were not just a fleeting fancy or a passing infatuation, but the anchor that kept him grounded in a sea of uncertainty.

You struggled to recall so many details of your shared past. But despite the fog that clouded your mind, he made sure you knew one thing with absolute certainty – you had spent seventy three years of love with this person.

To you, it felt like a lifetime.

"When did you come back?" You asked, drowsy.

November 15, 1950 — Boston, Masachussets

The bell rang, a familiar sound echoing through the halls of the prestigious private middle school, signaling the end of another day of classes. With a sigh of relief, you gathered your belongings as you made your way towards the exit.

The halls were bustling with activity as students hurried to their lockers, chatting excitedly about plans for the upcoming weekend.

However, the dreary sight of raindrops pelting against the glass windows dismayed you. The once sunny skies had transformed into a gloomy expanse, the sound of thunder echoing in the distance.

To make matters worse, you realized with a sinking feeling that you hadn't brought your car along. Just when you needed it the most, the weather took a turn.

"Miss Park, someone named Yoon Jeonghan is looking for you."

A chill ran down your spine as your colleague uttered his name. It was a name that once held so much significance, evoking memories of love, shared dreams, and whispered promises. But now, it sent a wave of uncertainty crashing over you.

Your body tensed as you processed the information, the mere mention of his name causing your heart to ache. You proceeded to the to clock out, each step weighed down by a mixture of trepidation.

There he was, sitting on one of the benches just outside the main exit.

The pain in your heart is excruciating. It's unbearable.

You had finally found peace in letting go, in moving forward without him by your side. But now, his unexpected return threatens to upend the fragile balance you've worked so hard to achieve, just when you've come to accept everything.

Jeonghan came back, but at what cost?

"I am so sorry, sweetheart." He approached you, and those were the first words he stated. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you looked into his eyes, searching for answers, for a glimpse of the man you used to know.

Was it really that easy to go back to how things were after he left you hanging for a year without a word? It wasn't just about forgiving him, but confronting the unresolved feelings and unanswered questions that had haunted you for so long.

You knew deep down that you couldn't jump to conclusions without first hearing his side of the story. After all, you hadn't walked in his shoes or experienced firsthand whatever trials he had faced during his time in England. It wouldn't be fair to assume the worst without giving him the chance to explain himself.

But even as you grappled with your own doubts and insecurities, a part of you longed for answers, for closure, for the opportunity to lay bare the raw emotions that had festered in your heart during his absence.

The weight on your chest felt suffocating, and a dull ache began to throb in your throat as tears threatened to spill from your blurry eyes. It felt as though the weight of the world was bearing down on you.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, to suppress the rising tide of tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, but it was futile. The emotions pent up inside you demanded release.

And so, you walked on, the rain pouring down with increasing intensity, drenching you to the bone. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the burden of your emotions and the relentless downpour that seemed to mirror the turmoil within your soul.

There was nowhere to go, no destination to seek refuge from the storm raging both inside and out. You could have hailed a taxi, sought shelter in the warmth and comfort of your home, but something held you back.

You allowed your tears to fall freely, merging with the rain cascading down upon you. Each droplet was a testament to the pain and sorrow that weighed heavily on your heart.

"There is nothing to apologize for." You came in defense. Each recollection of those desperate moments, waiting for a letter that never came, stabbed at your heart like a dagger, reopening wounds you had thought had long since healed.

Once again, his touch enveloped both of your arms, but this time, it lacked the warmth and reassurance you once knew so well. His eyes, once bright with joy, now mirrored deep sadness and melancholy.

"The years that I was gone, shouldn't that be something that I need to apologize to you for?"

His thumb brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks, "Hear me out, please, darling?"

Your heart fluttered at his endearment, the familiar term of affection stirring emotions long buried beneath the surface. It had been so long since you had heard those words from him.

You missed it.

"School has been demanding lately," he confessed, his voice laced with regret. "I hardly could find time to write to you."

You whispered, "I know, you told me that in one of your letters."

He nodded in response, a weary sigh escaping his lips, and you could feel the weight of exhaustion radiating from him. You could see the fatigue etched into the lines of his face, the weariness in his eyes that spoke volumes of the pressure he was under. It was evident that school had been taking its toll on him, demanding every ounce of his energy and focus.

"And this, my love, I never told you…"

"My scholarship almost got revoked because I was involved in a fight."

He added, "That one guy in my football team…"

"You also wrote that in your letter, sweetheart." You replied.

He breathed heavily, the weight of his fatigue evident in the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. As he pulled you close, you could feel the tension in his muscles. His arms wrapped around you with a desperate strength, seeking solace and support in your embrace. And then, he buried his face against your shoulder.

"Life is so difficult without you." Jeonghan uttered a wistful response.

You stood together in the midst of the downpour, raindrops cascading around you like a curtain of silver threads. Your clothes clung to your skin, drenched from the relentless deluge, but neither of you paid it any mind. All Jeonghan wanted was for you to hold him tight, to drive his fears away, and to be with him.

He gazed into your eyes, and then, without a word, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. It was a gesture you had both yearned for.

As his lips captured yours, you melted into the kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance. With a soft sigh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, longing to feel every part of him pressed against you.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you.

"Oh darling, I missed you so much," Jeonghan whispered, his voice filled with longing and sincerity. His arms tightened around you, as if afraid to let you go, as if trying to make up for all the time you had been apart.

"Please, don't ever leave me again." You implored, voice carrying the weight of your vulnerabilities.

He paused, interrupting the moment, "I won't."

"Because I'm taking you with me."

His hand delved into his pocket to retrieve a small, intricately decorated box. Your breath caught in your throat as he opened it, revealing a ring nestled within the cushions of the box. In that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. Everything suddenly became clear, as if the universe had been guiding you towards this moment all along.

"My darling, Amelia. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Let's do life together."

"You know that it would always be a million times yes, Jeonghan."

---- end of flashback ----

"Oh my god." You whispered, a frail smile forming on your lips. It was as though you were reading a novel. With bated breath, you hung on to every detail, feeling the warmth of his voice wrap around you like a comforting blanket. "She must have had the best life with you."

"She did, darling. You had the best life with me."

The scene he described was so vivid, yet, you felt like a bystander in your own story, unable to grasp the memories that Jeonghan so fondly reminisced. It was as if his words belonged to another lifetime, another version of yourself that you could no longer access. You strained to remember the moments he shared, but they remained elusive.

"And then...what happened?" Keeping your eyes open proved to be challenging, and each breath felt like a burden, despite the equipment tethered to you.

"I married you, Amelia."

"Come again?"

"We're married for 73 years."

You found it difficult to keep pace with the man's words, each syllable feeling like a foreign language to your confused mind, as if your mind had been reset and you couldn't comprehend why. You searched his face, desperately seeking familiarity. Unfortunately, he was a person that your mind couldn't recognize.

"I'm sorry, what's your name?"

Jeonghan's patience was unwavering, a steadfast presence amidst the chaos of your fading consciousness. Each day seemed to chip away at the fragments of your memories, leaving behind a hollow shell of the person you once were. It was a heartbreaking ordeal for him to witness, like watching a beautiful painting slowly fade into obscurity.

You found yourself lost in a disorienting haze, where time seemed to ebb and flow like the tide. People and places blurred together in a jumble of indistinct shapes and sounds. It was a harrowing experience, to feel every part of you slowly succumbing to the relentless march of time. Memories faded into oblivion, leaving behind an empty void one could no longer fill.

"Yoon Jeonghan. You're my wife, and I'm your husband." He whispered softly, his voice laced with a mix of tenderness and longing.

"Did we have children?" You asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

"We have three. Two girls and one boy," he replied, his words carrying a weight of reminiscence. "You have eight grandchildren, as well."

Jeonghan added with a smile, "We promised that we'd finish college first before starting a family."

March 7, 1953 — Portofino, Italy

"Good morning, sweetheart." A faint whisper tickled your ear, and then, almost instinctively, you felt the embrace of Jeonghan's strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

Immediately, you shifted, turning to face him and melting into his embrace. His bare chest pressed against your own, the warmth of his skin radiating against you. You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, letting it wash over you like a wave of tranquility.

You felt the tender press of Jeonghan's lips against your forehead, a gentle caress that sent ripples of warmth cascading through your weary body. Despite the early morning light filtering through the curtains, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. Time itself had slowed to a standstill, allowing you to bask in the serenity of this intimate moment with him.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan savored the precious seconds ticking by, cherishing every fleeting instant he had with you, his heart swelling with love as he traced the contours of your face with his gaze. In the quiet of the room, he allowed himself to be fully present in this moment, indulging the joy of holding you close.

Unable to resist any longer, he found himself captivated by your beauty, his gaze lingering on your naked form. Every curve, every line of your body seemed to radiate with an otherworldly glow, sending him into constant euphoria.

He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch feather-light against your skin as he leaned in, his lips seeking yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a slow, deliberate gesture, a silent plea for you to awaken from your slumber.

You moaned softly, your voice a whisper in the dimly lit room, but you knew you had to stop him. "Mmm, I'm afraid I don't have it in me for another go, darling. I'm sore from last night, and it's because of you."

Jeonghan chuckled, "I can see how you rather reveled in last night's affair."

"Anything for you, sweetheart." He added, a proud look painted on his face.

In the comfort of your new home, nestled snugly beside your husband and the whispering ocean, you find yourself waking to the sight beyond the right window. There, you awaken to the serene expanse of the sea, tranquil and unyielding in its beauty.

Amidst the tender beginnings of your marriage, a dream materialized into reality as you and your husband diligently saved for this cherished abode, knowing all too well of your deep affection for the ocean.

"Thank you for this, Jeonghan. I just love the ocean so much."

"And I love you most, Amelia."

December 29, 1953 — Portofino, Italy

In the moments of your firstborn's arrival just a week prior, every ounce of fatigue and every sleepless night seemed a small price to pay for the tender care your child demanded. The longing to return to your profession, to teach and impart knowledge, nags on you incessantly.

Yet, despite your decision, Jeonghan, your husband, insisted that you take the time to rest and recuperate.

As you stirred in the early hours of the morning, your fingertips brushed against the cold, empty space where your husband had lain just hours before. Heavy with sleep, your eyelids resisted the call to wakefulness, clinging stubbornly to the remnants of slumber. The night enveloped the room in a profound silence, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the rhythmic cadence of your own breathing.

Your gaze wandered towards the bassinet where your newborn daughter usually slept until your eyes fell upon the familiar sight of Jeonghan.

Drawing closer, the soft glow of moonlight revealed the silhouette of your husband, his figure bathed in a gentle luminescence as he sat in his usual spot. His arms enveloped your daughter, cocooning her in a protective embrace, while the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest mirrored the steady beat of his heart.

Jeonghan's gaze met yours, his eyes alight with warmth and affection. A soft smile graced his lips, tender and reassuring, and he continued to cradle your daughter in his arms. With gentle motions, he coaxed her into the peaceful embrace of slumber, the rhythmic swaying of his movements lulling her.

"Sweetheart," you called your husband.

"Hm?"

Your desire to return to work intensifies with each passing day, a persistent tug at the core of your being. You feel confident in your ability to manage yourself effectively during your maternity leave. Driven by a desire to reclaim your productivity, you are resolute in your decision to return to teaching.

"What if I told you that I want to return to work after the holidays?" As the words left your lips, Jeonghan's brow furrowed in contemplation. His mind raced, mapping out potential schedules and arrangements to ensure the well-being of your little one while the both of you were at work. "I want to provide more for our child."

He muttered, "Let's discuss that first thing in the morning. But for now, get some rest, darling. I'll tend to our daughter." He held your child as if she were the most precious and fragile thing in the world.

---- end of flashback ----

Jeonghan's heart breaks at the sight of your weakened state. Despite the weight of the world bearing down upon your chest, you fought to catch your breath, clinging to his words as if they were the very air you needed to survive.

With each passing moment, the urgency to spend this precious time with Jeonghan swelled within you, a desperate longing to imprint his presence upon your heart. Every word that fell from his lips wove a tapestry of cherished memories, a mosaic of everything you held dear in life.

"Did you know that we used to dance together as soon as the sun sets?"

You shook your head, unable to recall. But you found yourself more than eager to hear what he had up his sleeve, to replay the episode when the two of you were dancing amidst the golden rays of the sun, somewhere near home.

"Can I dance with you?" You asked Jeonghan, your heart yearning for the familiar rhythm of movement, but he hesitated, reluctance evident in his eyes as he glanced at your fragile state.

Just as the moment hung in delicate balance, Nurse Kim entered, her presence a timely interruption to the silent exchange between you and your husband. With a compassionate gaze, she inquired about how she could be of assistance to both of you.

"I'll do the best that I can, Mr. Yoon."

Nurse Kim swiftly removed the blankets covering your abdomen, and with care, she supported your head and back, ensuring that your position posed no risk. She then lifted you from the bed, each movement was slow and steady. She held onto you until your husband was able to reach out, allowing you to be securely wrapped around his arms.

How he yearned for your touch, his heart soaring to the heavens at the mere thought of holding you close once more in his arms.

Jeonghan whispered, "Rest your head on my chest, my love."

February 14, 1954 — Los Angeles, California

Valentine's Day held a mundane charm in your world, for your husband had a remarkable way of weaving romance into the fabric of everyday life, rendering every moment akin to that celebrated day.

As the afternoon waned, the gentle melody of the day was interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. There stood your husband, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he concealed a bouquet of flowers behind his back.

He approached you slowly, each step deliberate, and gave you this large bouquet of red roses, "Beautiful flowers for the most beautiful woman."

Being married to Jeonghan felt like stepping into the shoes of a protagonist in a romantic movie. Every moment with him was like a scene straight out of a love story, where he effortlessly embodied everything you had ever dreamed of in a partner.

He proceeded to take a gentle look at your firstborn daughter, who was in slumber, nestled peacefully in her bassinet, her tiny chest rising and falling with each serene breath.

Once again, it was the golden hour, with the sun's rays breaking through the kitchen windows, casting warm, honeyed hues across the room.

Jeonghan beckoned you into his arms, enveloping you in a tight embrace as the music from the radio filled the air. Together, you both swayed gently, lost in the moment, as if time itself had paused to savor the sweetness of your love. His hand rested firmly on the small of your back, the other one holding your right hand.

You softly rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to be enveloped by the warmth of his love. In that tranquil moment, every worry, every fear melted away, leaving only the profound sense of security that came from being held in the arms of someone who cherished you unconditionally. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in your ears, a comforting lullaby that eased your troubled mind and filled you with peace.

It was only you and Jeonghan, lost in each other's arms as you slow danced the golden hour into twilight.

But in your dreams whatever they be Dream a little dream of me

---- end of flashback ----

In the present moment, you found yourself caught in a slow dance with someone whose features blurred in the haze of memory. Though Jeonghan's face was no longer clear in your mind, you knew he had been a significant part of your life. And as you moved together, guided by the melody of the music, you couldn't help but wonder about the chapters of your life that had slipped from your grasp, lost in the passage of time.

His touch and embrace felt achingly familiar, like pieces of a puzzle that once fit perfectly together but had since been scattered by the winds of time. Though you couldn't recall the specifics of your marriage, there was an undeniable resonance in the way he held you. In that fleeting moment, you were certain that this dance held echoes of a love story you had lived and breathed before, a love that had ignited your soul and left an indelible mark on your heart.

You knew, deep within your heart, that this man had loved you beyond measure. It was evident in the way his eyes softened as he recounted shared memories, in the tremor of his voice as he spoke your name.

A wave of exhaustion washed over you, your breaths growing shallow. In the stillness of the moment, you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of fading, of slipping away from someone who stayed with you for a lifetime. It was a heart-wrenching realization, knowing that even the deepest love couldn't protect you from the flux of time.

You mustered the strength to caress his chest, your touch so weak. In that fleeting moment, his name danced on the edge of your consciousness, a whisper from the past that stirred the depths of your soul.

"Jeonghan..."

He looked at you with eyes filled with love and sadness, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face as he gazed down at you. Your head rested against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, while your arms clung to him.

Despite the palpable frailty, he remained by your side, a steadfast presence in the midst of your struggle.

Tears gathered in Jeonghan's eyes. Each shimmering droplet mirrored the ache in his heart, a silent testament to the depth of his love and the agony of impending separation. With every breath, he struggled to contain the tempest of emotions raging within him, knowing all too well that the time had come for you to leave.

With all the remaining strength coursing through your weary body, you summoned every last bit of resolve to convey the depths of your love to him before drifting into the peaceful embrace of eternal slumber. Each word felt like a laborious effort, but the urgency of your heart spurred you on.

Jeonghan was more than just your husband; he was your confidant, your best friend, and, above all else, the love of your life.

"I love you." You whispered, the weight of those words heavy with the finality of goodbye. It echoed the solemn promise you both made at the altar, in the hallowed presence of God, to love him until death parted you. For the last time, you declared your love to your husband.

As you felt yourself fading away from the world, you realized that you were leaving life behind. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the anguished sobbing of another person, but you couldn't quite locate where they were.

Slowly, the grip of the person holding you began to loosen, their touch growing fainter with each passing second.

Through blurred vision, clouded by tears cascading down his cheeks, Jeonghan saw you resting peacefully in his embrace. Your lifeless body remained cradled in his arms, the pallor of your skin stark against the backdrop of his trembling form. You appeared as if in tranquil repose after a lifetime of adventures.

He was aware of the exhaustion, the countless machines tethered to your frail form in a desperate attempt to sustain your dwindling vitality. In the midst of the medical apparatus, he couldn't help but wonder if their purpose was to prolong your life or merely to delay the inevitable death.

And as Jeonghan held you close, he found solace in the knowledge that you were finally at peace, free from the pain and suffering that had plagued you.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly since the moment you fell in love with each other, yet it passed by in the blink of an eye. The world moved slowly, but time raced by at an unfathomable pace.

Not once did he ever regret loving you. Despite the imperfections that marred your relationship and the hurdles you both had to overcome, Jeonghan never wavered in his love for you. He knew that you had felt his love and presence throughout the years.

He loved you not only in the right way, but in every way you needed and desired.

With a heavy heart, Jeonghan whispered words of farewell, pressing a final kiss on your forehead, "I love you most, my darling Amelia."

"Rest easy, my love."

---- end ----

author's note: hello, everyone! i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it. this is the first time i've written some heavy angst here, and as much as i enjoy writing smut, i'm really a big sucker for angst.

this tugged my heartstrings so bad. (brb, sobbing)

send an ask and let me know what you think!

#seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen ph #svt #svt au #svt filo au #yoon jeonghan #yoon jeonghan au #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan x reader au #yoon jeonghan angst #yoon jeonghan x reader angst #jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader au #jeonghan angst #jeonghan au #jeonghan x reader angst #jeonghan ph #angst #heavy angst #sebong #seventeen angst #seventeen angst au #svt angst #svt angst au #Spotify

[gretavangroupie]

Valor - (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Jake x Reader, Daniel x Reader

Word Count: 17.1k

Warnings: Cursin', Smokin', Drinkin', Allusions to Drug Use. Angst: Struggle and Poverty, Emotional Manipulation, Cheating, Abandonment, Jealousy, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Weapons, Mentions of Death, Allusions to Suicide, Allusions to Shady Activities. Smut: Kissing, Allusions to Sex.

Valor Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

A new project in collaboration with my talented co-writer @gretavanmoon.

HER POV

You could hardly see out the back window, your entire life piled up to the roof of the car. You were thankful on days like today, that you had a car big enough to fit it all. Your every worldly possession, reduced down to a handful of boxes and trash bags, now occupying your backseat. You shifted into reverse and turned your body to look out the back window of your old ‘73 Scout. Your eyes peeked through the visible sliver of the rear window, but not before catching sight of the dress you were slated to wear just 3 months from now. That, however, was the reason you were packed into this car in the first place. 

‘Go ahead and try to leave. You’ll be back when you realize I’m as good as it gets for you.’ his words still echoing through your head as if they were being played through a loudspeaker. ‘You need me. You have nothing without me. You’ll never make it on your own.’ And that’s exactly what he wanted you to believe. He’d told you that so often you wondered if it was himself he was trying to convince instead of you. 

You were set to marry Peter the second week of July. The plans were made, invitations sent. But as you stopped by his office to deliver his plate lunch, what you’d walked in on was not the scene of a man ready to be greeted by his soon to be wife. No, it was a very different scene, straight from one of those Playboy magazines you could buy at the Quik-Stop on Douglas.

You can still hear the sound of the ceramic plate shattering against the terrazzo floors. The gasp of air that left the lips of his new bookkeeper, sprawled out across his desk. You can remember the way the peas scattered across the floor in every direction and the way they felt smashing under your shoes as you fled his office. 

You waited for him to come home that night. Your things were already packed away in bags and boxes by the time he finally meandered through the front door of the apartment. Then came the excuses. The begging and pleading that quickly turned vicious and accusatory. The ‘maybe if you put out more, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere’ lines, that you knew to be a load of shit. You knew Peter wasn’t one to shy away from clearing his conscience at someone else's expense. Your mind was made up before he ever came home. You knew you couldn’t stay here, not with him. Not after this. 

You aren’t sure why you brought the dress with you. You could have easily left it at your mothers, letting it hang in her guest room closet to collect dust and rot until the end of time. But you didn’t, you knew that bringing it would give you that reminder of why you were leaving. So with fifteen dollars of gas in the tank, and your Bruce Springsteen 8-track, you and your things began the trek towards Atlanta, ready to start again. Ready to live a life uninhibited. Ready to find an adventure. 

—

The chorus of ‘State Trooper’ played through the fuzzy car speakers as you popped a cinnamon hard candy into your mouth. Your eyes caught sight of the welcome sign as you crossed the Iowa-Missouri border in a blur. It had been quite a few years since you’d been back to Missouri. Actually, you hadn’t visited since your family moved in the third grade. It was an abrupt move, your parents pulling you from school midway through the year with little to no explanation. You were placed in the back of your parents' Taurus and the life that you had known flashed by in a matter of the five minutes it took to make your way from one side of town to the other. You liked Iowa though. You made friends there, had a life and were active in school extracurriculars. It’s where you met Peter, and fell in love, though now that part didn’t exactly fit the narrative of your happy story. 

As the song began to fade out into the next track, you heard it. The metallic grinding beneath the hood. The hell is that? You spun the volume knob down to zero, listening again for the noise, wondering if maybe you had just run over something on the freeway. As you passed mile marker 22 you heard it again, louder. Whatever it was had your heart pounding in your chest. You didn’t know the first thing about cars, definitely not enough to fix anything. Then it became more frequent. Persistent. Something was really wrong. 

In a panic you pulled off the road into the overgrown grass of the shoulder, pulling out your roadmap and unfolding it across the steering wheel. You tried to get a sense of your surroundings, knowing you’d crossed the border not too long ago. You pinpoint your location in search of the next town you’d come across in what you knew to be a collection of nearly abandoned mining towns. A bead of sweat collected on your forehead, the wind dying down as the sun began to set. The impending darkness adds another factor of stress to an already stressful situation. As your finger traced a line up the interstate, you saw the familiar name. The place just on your mind mere minutes ago. You don’t remember too much about Joslyn, but what you do remember of it, is that there was an auto repair shop, and you were in desperate need if you were going to make it to Atlanta. With an estimated thirty miles to Joslyn from your current spot, you started your car back up, and pulled back out onto the road, praying you would make it there without doing anymore damage. 

The metallic noise seemed to stay consistent, but with every mile that passed you knew the dollar signs were adding up. Of course you took the money stashed away for the wedding, he didn’t get to keep that. Why should he? Consider it severance. However, car repairs was not how you wanted to spend that money. You planned to use it for a deposit and first month's rent on an apartment, hoping it would be enough to tide you over until you found a job. 

You knew you had plenty of useful skills, you were near the top of your class in school. You planned to work with Peter at the accounting firm after you married, and you hoped you’d be able to find a similar position in your new city. You were snapped from your daydreams as you saw the sign welcoming you to Joslyn, however, the old decrepit sign, about twenty years past needing to be replaced, sent a cold chill down your spine. The way it barely hung on to the wooden stakes made you feel anything but welcome, and your instincts told you to turn back. As you limped your car further into town, you realized that the vibrant city you left all those years ago had been in steady decline ever since. Homes abandoned and pillaged, with broken windows and spray painted siding. Cars sat deteriorating in driveways that were barely visibly under the overgrown grass and trees. You had no sense of ‘home’ despite this being the town you were born in. You barely recognized it, until you saw Louie’s. 

Knowing you would find answers there, you pulled into an empty parking space, almost afraid to pull the key from the ignition, wondering if it would turn on again when you got back inside. You grabbed your fringed purse from the passenger seat, and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head as you jumped down from the driver's seat. The gravel crunched beneath your feet as you walked towards the front door of the diner, seeing a few older patrons lining the bartop and scattered through a few booths through the large windows. 

The bell rang as you pulled the door open, alerting everyone of your presence. Ten heads turned to look at you all at once, and suddenly you felt like a spectacle as you stood there in your halter top and waist hugging jeans. 

“Take a seat anywhere ya’d like, hun.” a lady in a pink apron called out from across the room. Her voice was gruff and far deeper than it should be for a lady, you thought. You made your way towards an empty bar stool, leaving a space between you and an older man in a newsboy cap, sliding his fork through a piece of cherry pie. You gave him a curt smile as you settled on the stool and placed your bag on the counter. It smelled good, and you felt a small rumble in your stomach as you watched plates being sent to the window. If you’d had more time you’d probably enjoy a late lunch, but you didn’t, so you couldn’t.

The same woman approached you, handing you a laminated menu and gesturing a coffee cup towards you in silent question. You nodded your head and smiled, placing the menu down on the counter. 

“What’ll ya have, sugar…” she asked, pouring coffee into your mug from the yellow stained carafe. 

“Oh, I’m great with just the coffee for now, thank you.” you responded, seeing her eyes rake over you with curiosity. 

“Just passin’ through?” she asks, placing the carafe back on the counter. 

“Sort of. I’m on my way to Georgia, but I think I need a mechanic to look at my car. Started knocking when I hit the border. This was the first town I thought might have one.” you answer. 

The lady’s eyes flash over to the man next to you. He looks over at you and looks back at her giving her a slight nod. “Yeah we got one.” he says, twisting his stool to face you. “You’ll have to try and get it down to Ace’s, well Jake’s now I reckon. But he should be able to get ya fixed up.” 

“Would you be able to give me directions?” you ask, digging into your purse in search of a pen. You grab a paper napkin from the dispenser, and click the end of your pen on the countertop as he nods his head. 

“Yeah, so you’re gonna take a left out of the lot here, go down ‘bout 2 miles ‘er so, you’ll see a Church of the Nazarene and take that left there. Go up that hill ‘bouta ‘nother mile and you’ll see a dirt road on your right. His shops’ at the end of the drive there. Can tell him Bubba sent ‘cha, and he’ll help out a pretty lady I’m sure of it.”

You quickly scribble down his directions, and toss the napkin and pen into your bag. “Thank you. I–I really should be going, It’ll be dark soon and I–”

“Should finish your cup there at least.” the lady says, leaning onto the counter. “You sure you’re not from ‘round here, honey? You look awful familiar.”

“Not exactly.” you say, cutting the conversation short. You place a few dollars on the counter and grab your bag, “Thank you. For the directions. I appreciate it.” you say, watching the man tip his hat to you as you make your way out of the diner and back to your car. Jumping into the front seat you send up a quick prayer that she’ll start and as you twist the key you hear the engine roar to life. 

With the napkin sitting on your leg, you pulled out of the parking space heading further into town. The clock on the dash read 4:43, and you hoped you’d catch them before they closed up for the night. You saw the church he spoke of up in the distance, what was probably once a pristine white building, was now showing wear and tear with no one to fix it up. You took the left, the metallic clicking beneath the hood growing louder as you pressed forward on the gas pedal to climb the hill. With the windows down the sound was deafening, the cool breeze blowing through the window alleviated the sweat forming on your neck. In the dissipating sunlight you saw the orange dirt road and hesitantly turned to travel down its short path. A multitude of old abandoned cars littered the premises, and you wondered if that was a good sign or a bad one. You slowed your speed to a crawl, the clicking from your engine announcing your presence as you pulled closer towards the building. 

Your headlights lit up the front of the building, an old gray sheet metal building, flash rust covering most of the sign that read ‘Ace’s Garage’. Two men in old rotted patio chairs stood slowly as you put the car in park. You shut off the engine and took a deep breath as you jumped out onto the dusty dirt road.  

“Hi, I’m sorry, am I too late? I know it’s close to closing.” you murmured, stepping around to the front of the car. They both just stood there in their faded blue coveralls that looked like they hadn’t had a washing in some time. The taller man had his unzipped and the sleeves tied around his waist. A dirty white t-shirt beneath concealed what seemed to be a plethora of ink adorning his body. Neither of them jumped to respond to you, and your eyes searched theirs for any sort of answer as the shorter man begrudgingly flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with his dirty boot. “Closed at 4:30.” he says.

“Shut up Jake. No. We heard you coming ‘bout a mile away.” the other, taller man said with a curt smile. His dark disheveled curls were tied up in a messy bun that hadn’t been touched since he put it there this morning. Wisps of hair surrounded his head in a halo of sweaty dark strands. “Doesn’t sound too good. Sounds like you’ve got something going on under the hood.”

“It just started doing it about an hour or so ago. Right after I crossed the border. Never heard it before, and I have a long trip ahead of me so I figured I should probably get it checked out.” you reply, twisting your hands around the strap of your purse. 

“Could be a number of things…” he pauses, stepping over towards your car. He places a grease covered hand on the hood of your baby blue Scout and turns to look at you. “These Scouts are pretty good little cars, but they are notorious for having engine issues. Afraid to say you might be a victim of that. Though, maybe it’s just a bad wheel bearing.”

“Nah.” the other man, who you now know as Jake, says suddenly, stepping forward slowly with his arms crossed across his chest. He doesn’t say much, just places his hand under the hood and opens the latch. He steps up on the front bumper, and takes a look into the engine compartment, resting his tattoo covered hands on either side of the frame. After a few quiet minutes he steps down, and closes the hood staring at the taller man. “Collapsed lifter, but that’s the least of her issues. Camshaft is fucked.”

“When did you say it started doing this?” the curly haired man asks. 

“About an hour ago. I know it’s bad but, what’s that mean?” you ask nervously.

“Means you better call your husband to come pick you up.” Jake said, looking out towards the field in the distance.

“Husband?” you question, seeing his eyes travel to the diamond on your left finger. You quickly flip it around and look back to him. “Oh, I’m not married. I don’t have a husband. I don’t live here. I was just passing through.”

“Shit place to get stranded.” he quips, turning on his heel and making his way towards the door of the car. He spits towards the ground as he pulls the door open and climbs inside.

“Stranded?” you blurt out, catching the eyes of the taller man. 

“Daniel, get her out of the fuckin’ way.” Jake says calmly, leaning his head out the window as he starts your car.

He grabs your arm and ushers you out of the way as Jake pulls your car forward into the empty bay beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights. He nods, motioning for you to follow him towards the garage, the air dusty as your tires kicked up dirt. The car shuts off and he jumps out, his boots making a loud thud as they land on the dirty concrete floors. As you follow Daniel into the garage he stops, placing his hands on his hips as he watches Jake lift the hood once more. This time, he grabs a ladder and a work light, hanging it from the inside of the hood. You look around at the garage, noticing the side you occupied was slightly more messy than the bay on the opposite side. Tools scattered about but in a way that you could tell they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

As you turned further you noticed a tan cover hanging loosely over a car parked between the two bays, you didn’t pay much mind to it, as your brain was bouncing from object to object. Your eyes caught Jake’s as he peered up from the engine compartment, quickly flicking them back down as he examined the condition of your motor. You let out a sigh and leaned backwards, resting your weight on the covered car. Daniel snapped his head in your direction seeing you before looking over at Jake. He quickly turned back to you, and pulled your arm to stand up again. “Probably don’t want to lean on that one. Here, let’s go find you somewhere to sit.” he said, walking you further into the garage. You looked over to Jake again, seeing him concentrated on his task, a single strand of brown hair hanging long in his face. 

You followed Daniel as he led you to a plaid nylon folding chair, similar to the ones they arose from earlier. The once white fabric was now a dingy, dirty gray, stained with oil and grease. He offered you a sorrowful smile as he gestured for you to sit. “Thanks.” you squeaked, checking your wristwatch for the time. 

Daniel walked back over towards the car, peering in as Jake inspected the damage. You watched his back muscles flex as he placed his hands on the open hood, his white t-shirt pulling tightly against his back. You could see the shadow of a dark image through the white cotton of his shirt, a large tattoo must be under there and you couldn’t help but wonder what it was. It was almost as if he could feel your eyes on him as he turned around to meet your gaze as he continued talking to Jake. Jake turned around too, catching your sight and you knew that the news they were about to deliver was probably not what you wanted to hear. 

Jake unhooked the work light, and closed the hood, stepping down off the ladder and wiping his hands on his coveralls. He used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow as he looked over towards you again. They both began walking over towards you, stopping short as they reached you. You stood to meet them, watching as Jake shoved his hands in his pockets.

He was the first to speak, “I can fix it, but I will have to order the parts. Don’t see too many of these come ‘round here.”

“Oh, so it’s an easy fix? Good, maybe I won’t be here too long.” you said cheerfully.

“No. I didn’t say that.” he bites back. “I said, I can fix it.”

You furrow your brow at his harshness and turn to Daniel. 

He rolls his eyes and looks at you, “What he is trying to say is that you need some major work done. We don’t have the parts we need– he needs, to be able to do it, so he will have to order them. Only problem is that the delivery truck only runs on the 15th of the month.”

You look down at your watch seeing the tiny ‘2’ in the window. “And today is the second…”

“Right.” he says, kicking his shoe against the floor. 

“I can call and order the parts tomorrow when the supplier opens, can give you a proper estimate then, but I’m gonna warn you that this ain’t no cheap fix.” Jake says, flicking his eyes up to yours. There is a smudge of grease on his cheek that catches the light. Your eyes travel down his face seeing a scattering of tattoos that decorate the side of his neck, disappearing down into the zipped coveralls. 

“I have the money.” you sigh, fiddling with the strings on your purse. 

Jake nods his head, “Right, well, see you tomorrow.” he says, turning to head towards a set of stairs at the side of the garage. 

“Jake. The fuck…” Daniel shouts, causing Jake to stop and turn around. 

“What.” he answers, slowly walking back towards you. 

“What do you mean, what? You’re gonna have to drive her down to Wanda’s.” he says, “I can’t take her on the bike.”

“No.” he says, far too quickly.

“Jake, what else is she supposed to do?” he says, throwing his hands into the air. 

“Dunno. Figure it out I guess.” he scoffs, trying to retreat again, before Daniel grabs his arm. 

“It’s Wanda’s or here. Make your choice.” Daniel growls.

“Why do you care?” Jake barks back.

“How about you quit being a prick for a minute? You’re going to take this nice, paying customer down to the Motel, so that tomorrow she can come back and pay for those parts, and you can fix her car, hm?” he seethes into his ear. 

Jake rips his arm from his grip, and walks over to the dirty, stained wall, snatching a set of keys from a hook. “Fine. Let’s go.”

You scurry over to your car, attempting to grab the few things you’ll need for a few nights stay at a motel, before quickly jumping down and looking around for Jake. You hear an engine roar to life outside the shop, seeing Danny pointing towards an old, Green Ford truck. His headlights flash on, practically blinding you as you start to walk towards them, turning to thank Daniel for his kindness as you run off towards your ride. 

—

The ride to the motel was silent for the most part, the sound of the static coming across the radio the only noise filling the cab of the truck. You sat shotgun while Jake rested his wrist on the steering wheel of the old Ford, the sullied fingertips of his opposite hand rubbing across his unkempt mustache as he slowly made his way back through town. 

“You can ask me.” He finally spoke, his eyes dashing quickly back and forth from the rear view mirror and the road. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly surprised he spoke. “Ask you what?”

“Where you know me from. I can tell you wanna ask.” He answered, his voice only a tiny bit louder than the rumbling engine. 

Damn, he was right. He did look familiar to you, and so did Daniel. But your mind was so frenzied with the anticipation of finding out what was wrong with your car, and then the news that the damage was far worse than you thought, that you pushed the thought far from your mind. 

“I mean, you do kind of seem…”

“…familiar? Yeah. I remember you.” He mumbled, his eyes still never traveling your way. “You went to St. James Elementary, right?”

“Yes…”

“So did we. Probably why you recognize us.” Jake turned the wheel a hard right, forgoing a blinker as he flicked his eyes to the rear view again. 

Ah, that makes sense. You had started the first grade here many years ago, and made it to the third before your parents ripped you away and set off toward Iowa. But the more you thought about it, the more you remembered them. Both of them. But that was over twenty years ago, how the hell did he remember you now?

“Shit, that’s right.” You glanced to the floor, trying like hell to stretch your mind back to the tiny hallways lined with lockers, and the playground out back where many of your earliest memories were made. “I remember now, you were what, a year older than me?”

“Yeah. Danny’s a few years behind me.” Jake reached in his front pocket and pulled out his half-empty pack of Lucky Strikes, patting the box on the heel of his hand before he pushed the lighter into the dash, waiting for it to heat. 

“So wait, you were the one that climbed to the top of that old Sycamore that day at recess…couldn’t get back down when the bell rang so you jumped down and broke your arm…” your memory probably didn’t serve you all the way right, but you couldn’t have made up the tall-tale. 

The lighter finally popped free, and Jake raised his left knee to steer the truck while he grabbed the handle, shielding the wind to light the butt of his cigarette. You watched as he inhaled, then cranked the window the rest of the way down to let the smoke filter through. 

“I didn’t climb all the way up. Just halfway. And I didn’t jump, I fell.” He tapped his cigarette in the tray of the dash, not caring one bit that the residual ashes fell into the floorboard. You watched them flutter down before fizzling out completely.

You laughed at the memory, finding it hard to believe that you’d found yourself here again, remembering things about your childhood that you hadn’t even come close to thinking about in years. 

“It wasn’t funny.” Jake said stoically, puffing the cigarette again. 

“Sorry. No, it wasn’t. But, I remember being glad you didn’t get hurt worse than you did.” You replied, hoping to warm up his ice-cold composure. 

“This is you.” He mumbled as he pulled into the lot of the old motel, the truck lurching forward as he put it into park. You popped the door open and slid out of the old bench seat, slamming the door behind you as you rounded the side of the truck to grab your suitcase from the bed. Jake didn’t get out of the truck or offer to help you with your bags, but after his less-than-happy attempt at making cordial conversation, you didn’t expect anything less. 

You perked back up to the open passenger window, seeing that Jake’s eyes were still darting from side to side out the windows. Why was he so paranoid? 

“Thank you for the ride, I really appreciate it. You’ll let me know when the parts get ordered, and I can give you the cash?” You asked, really not knowing any other way to go about this. 

He nodded his head, biting his cheeks in. 

“Okay, let me go check in, and I’ll come back and tell you my room number so you can phone me.” You said, walking toward the check-in office. 

“I’ll just call and ask for your room.” He muttered, throwing the gear shift into reverse. 

“But, you never even asked me my–”

“I remember your name, Y/N.” He spat, spinning his head around to check his surroundings before he whipped the truck from the parking spot, kicking up dust as he flew back down the road. 

——

Upon entering the check-in office, your eyes had to do little to adjust, as there were barely any lights on at all. The stench of the room itself was like must and rotting wood, with just a hint of Borax and lemon-scented cleaner. You glanced to the large counter that spanned the room, leaving your suitcase behind while you approached it. After a minute or two of waiting, you let your palm gently tap on the bell that sat on the desk, ‘Ring for Service’ written on an old note underneath it. 

“Hi, hello. Could I get a single room for the next week, please?” You asked the gruff woman that finally limped her way from the back room. 

“HUH?” She all but yelled, squinting her eyes as she held her hand up to her ear. She must be hard of hearing. 

You cleared your throat to speak a bit louder. “I’d like a room for the next seven nights, please.” You spoke loudly, mouthing the words clearly as you watched her read your lips. 

“Only room I got’s a double efficiency.” She barked, grabbing a pen as she lifted the glasses that hung from a chain around her neck to rest on her nose. You snarled your nose up in confusion, remembering that you only saw another one or two cars in the lot. 

“I don’t need something that large, it’s just me, if you want to put me in something smalle–”

“Double efficiency.” She said, writing down some number into her oversized ledger book. “It’s $35 a night. I take cash upfront for the whole stay. Fresh linens every other day.”

“Thirty-five a night? Ma’am, isn’t that a bit high?” Your voice was raised on its own now, out of pure surprise at the price. 

“Either that or you ride down to the new Ramada an hour and a half South, and seein’ as how Jake brought you here, it’s lookin’ like the double efficiency for yeh.” 

You seethed as she scribbled the math into her book, her jaws gnawing together as she chewed on nothing. “Two forty-five rate plus sixty-seven tax gives us…” she tapped away loudly at her printing calculator. “Three hundred twelve for the week.”

You felt like throwing up. That took a good chunk from the cash you brought along, but thankfully didn’t drain you completely. Luckily, the money you’d saved up for the wedding was well above what you’d need to survive on, so it didn’t hurt too badly as you begrudgingly counted out the bills from your wallet. 

“Write your name and date here, signature here.” She pointed in her book for you to sign next to room number 7. She smiled a large grin as you laid out the bills for her, her mouth showing no more than a few teeth. As she gave you her best fake smile, you noticed her right eye was almost completely glossed over with a blue sheen. “Need a receipt?”

“No, thank you.” You chirped, wanting to get the hell away from this eerie woman and into your double efficiency as quickly as possible. 

“I’ll bring fresh linens day after. No guests. Here’s your key, don’t lose it, I only got the one. Shower takes a good five minutes to heat, and don’t be smokin’ none of that grass in the room. Stinks up the place.” She said at a high volume while she wagged her finger toward your face. 

You raised your eyebrows at the irony of the smell of the place, nodding her way as you grabbed the key from the countertop. She turned away, taking your wad of cash with her back to the room she came from. “Name’s Wanda if you need anything.”

It was getting to be dark outside now, the dull streetlights barely illuminating the sidewalk enough for you to see the room numbers on the front of the doors as you passed. 

“Five…six…seven.” You whispered to yourself as you dropped the heavy suitcase beside you to fish the key from your pocket. As you slid the key into the slot and twisted the old knob, you were immediately met with the same stench as you were in the lobby. Old and grimey. 

You brought your bag inside and quickly turned to lock the door behind you, sliding the hanging chain into place. You inspected the room, seeing the two beds with old brown comforters laid across them, a nightstand in between, and a single TV on the chest of drawers in the corner. It’ll do. The bathroom wasn’t much better, and it looked as though the calcium and lime deposits on the shower head could kill a man. 

You sighed a deep sigh as you listened to your stomach rumble, your decision to forgo a late lunch at the diner earlier now seeming like a bad idea. The apple you had stashed away in your bag would have to suffice. 

After unpacking a little bit of your clothing from your suitcase and hanging a few things in the closet, you decided to turn on the television and tuck in early for the night. You twisted the knob, watching as the light on the screen came to life, the high-pitched squeal of the staticy screen making your skin crawl. You adjusted the antenna, trying your best to get a better picture of what looked to be the evening news, but it was no use. But, some sound was better than no sound. 

You slipped your top and jeans off and folded them neatly over the bed, planning on wearing them again tomorrow to save on any kind of laundry you’d end up needing to do. An old t-shirt from an old high-school boyfriend would have to be your choice of pajamas for the night. You flicked off the light, and climbed into the starchy sheets, the pillow feeling rock hard under your head. You shook your head as you looked at the ceiling, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this mess. 

This was supposed to be an adventure. A period of regrowth. A time to just live, find yourself again. Maybe join up with a new tribe of people, try new things, see where the wind would blow you…

But no. You’re here in your old hometown in a sticky motel, with a broken-down car, and no dinner. On the first day of your escape. You crossed your arms across your chest, allowing yourself a second to pout. For a split second, you contemplated going back to Iowa, back to your mother’s, back to the comforts of home, but you’d never return to Peter. Not in a million years, the scumbag. 

You twisted up your nose as your legs rubbed across the hard mattress and scratchy sheets, wondering who the hell the last people to sleep here were, or worse, if Wanda had actually even washed them when they left. 

—

The sound of three quick knocks on your door awoke you from what must have been a light sleep, the noise making your heart immediately pound. You hopped up, snaking across the floor quietly and peeking out of the peephole. You half expected to see a murderer standing at the door, but then, why would they have knocked? 

Must be Wanda. 

No, she doesn’t care about anyone but herself, apparently. 

You squinted your eye to see a ruffle of dark curls in the pale light, standing and swaying back and forth while he waited for you to open the door. 

“Daniel?” You whispered, pulling the door open wide enough that the chain lock pulled taut. “What are you doing?” You pulled the chain free, opening the door all the way. 

His eyes popped out of his head as he took in a quick breath, the look on his face completely surprised, and a little embarrassed. 

“Hey, um…I’m sorry, I…” he muttered, pulling his arm behind his head. 

“No, it’s fine, you just surprised me, that’s all. Is everything…” you pause, noticing he wasn’t shying away from his awkward stance. You suddenly felt the breeze blow across your almost completely uncovered lower-half. 

“Shit!” You yelped, pulling your t-shirt down as far as it would go over your legs. You bounced back into the room, pulling the comforter from the bed to cover yourself. “I’m sorry, I completely didn’t even…”

“No no, I’m sorry.” Danny admitted from the open doorway. “I just came to…”

You wrapped the linen around yourself, a complete cocoon now as you waddled like a mummy back over to him with a shy smile on your face. 

He laughed, his bright white teeth a contrast to the dark complexion of his skin. You felt the pit of your stomach fall at the sight. 

“I just came to see if you wanted to grab a late dinner with me, seeing as how you can’t drive to get anything, and there’s no such thing as room service in a place like this.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh, no, Daniel, that’s awful sweet of you to offer. But, I had an apple, so I’m…all set…” you admitted, the pit of hunger in your stomach getting bigger as the minutes ticked on. 

He furrowed his brow. “You can…call me Danny, if you want. We aren’t complete strangers.”

You felt your eyes sparkle at him. Stop it, Y/N. 

You swallowed. “Okay, Danny…”

“An apple? That’s all you’ve had all day?”

“Yeah. And well, a few sips of coffee earlier…” you admitted, waving him off. “Truly, I’m just fine.”

He stood and stared at you a few seconds longer, his eyes slipping past you and into the empty room behind you. The light of the static-snowed screen reflected off his features, accentuating his face, his jawline, his lips…the tattoos that crawled up his neck…

“Okay, well. I’ll see you around then?” He stated more than asked, before turning on his heels and disappearing down the sidewalk. 

Shit. You were starving. And bored. And not sleepy anymore. And, after letting your eyes wander a little too long on him…you felt…

“Danny!” You called back, seeing him turn with anticipation. “Let me put some pants on?”

He grinned again, and began making his way back toward your door as you popped back inside to re-dress yourself. You quickly pulled your jeans and halter on, and took a second to fluff your hair without him seeing. You grabbed a light jacket and pulled it over your arms, and made sure to slip your room key into your purse before throwing it over your shoulder. 

You stepped back outside the door, catching Danny leaning against the wall smoking. “That was quick.” He said, blowing smoke into the air. You noticed it smelled different than what Jake smoked, it was sweeter and not as rancid. 

“Did you walk here?” You asked him as you locked the door, noticing that there were no new vehicles in the parking lot. 

“Hell no.” He chuckled. “I brought Ruby.”

“Who?”

As you rounded the edge of the building, you saw what he was referring to. An early model motorcycle, a little rusted and definitely dirty, but you could see the red paint peeking out from underneath the dust. 

You watched as he lifted his leg and straddled the seat, pulling his weight over to kick the stand up. He turned the key and revved the engine, walking it forward just a bit as you watched. He motioned with his head for you to hop on, of which you quickly denied. 

“No no, I’ll walk, it’s fine.” You muttered, the engine drowning out the sound of your voice. You backed away, crossing your arms nervously. No way you were going to hop on the back of a motorcycle with a man you hardly knew. In the dark in a strange town, much less. 

“Ah come on, it’ll take you twenty minutes to walk there.” He yelled over the purring, again tilting his head back for you to climb in behind him. He slowly pulled the tie from his hair, letting his elbow-length waves fall before re-gathering it, and twisting at his neck again. He gave you another side smile, raising his eyebrows as he playfully revved the engine again. 

Fuck it. 

You bashfully stepped forward, hiking your leg up over the seat to fit right in behind him, the seat forcing you to press against his back a little more closely than you were comfortable with. And to make things even more awkward, you weren’t sure what to do with your hands. You let them drop to your thighs as he walked the bike forward a little again, turning it before he caught pavement and took off down the road without warning. 

You squealed loudly, your unfamiliarity with riding on the back of a motorcycle startling you completely. Without hesitation and in fear of falling off, your hands wrapped around Danny’s torso, and your feet fell in behind his on the racks. 

“Oh shit!” You yelled as he took off down the road, your arms gripping him tighter as you tried to get your balance. You were positive if you let go for even the tiniest second, you were going to eat rocks. 

“You alright back there?” He asked, turning his head slightly. 

“No, not really! I feel like I’m gonna fall!” You admitted, the wind whipping your hair in all directions. 

“You won’t fall, I won’t let you.” His left hand came down to grasp your fists gathered across his chest, and slowly pushed them downward toward his stomach, instantly making you feel leveled out, and a ton more balanced. He patted your hands there, telling you to leave them. 

Then his hand found your thigh, running his hand along the outside seam of your jeans from your knee to right below your asscheek. What the fuck? Before you could slap the hell out of him, he gripped up under your leg, jerking your forward on the seat to press your chest hard against his back. 

Instantly more centered. 

“Is that better? Still feel like you’re gonna fall?” He asked through the wind. 

You gulped, the rush of the past 13 seconds making your head spin. But he was right, you no longer felt like you were going to topple over. 

“No, yes…it’s better…” you choked out as he began to pick up speed. 

“Good. Hang on.” He ordered, speeding up significantly as you barreled down the dusty pavement. And hang on you did. The wind across your face was literally taking your breath away, and making your eyes water. You blinked away the tears as you focused, truly getting your bearings and relaxing your body against Danny’s to get a feel for the bike beneath you. You took a breath and let your body fall into his back a bit more, the motions of his flexing back muscles pressed up against you as he lifted his foot to switch gears. 

What the hell are you doing? What is happening?

After a whirlwind two or three minutes, you were slowing down and pulling into the parking lot of Louie’s, the same diner you had stopped into earlier for directions. Danny slowed the bike to a crawl and walked it forward before lowering the kickstand. You instinctively pulled your feet to the ground too, only the tips of your toes reaching the dirt below them. 

“Don’t tell me that was your first motorcycle ride…” he said as he leaned his body weight to one side, standing all the way up on solid ground. You followed his action, letting your shaky legs hop off the bike with the help of Danny’s strong hand. 

“Yeah, uh. It was.” You tried to sound nonchalant, like it was no big deal, while on the inside, your body was screaming with nervous adrenaline. You patted your hands over your hair to calm your flyaways, trying your best to keep your cool girl composure. 

“No shit? Well, if I’d have known that I wouldn’t have taken off so quick. You felt like a natural once you got your balance…” he flitted his eyes your way as you began to make your way to the door. 

You gave him a shy smile back. “Are they um. Are they still open? It’s getting late…” you glanced at your watch, finding it to be 9:20pm. 

Danny swung the glass door open, frowning as you walked inside before him. “Oh, yeah. They’re open ‘til midnight. And it’s pork chop night, I never miss pork chop night.”

You walked inside the now neon-lit diner, finding many of the same shady-looking characters as you had seen earlier in the day. You nodded toward the man who gave you the directions to Jake’s, of which he returned with a curt smile. 

“Bubba!” Danny exclaimed, forcefully throwing two hands to the back of the man’s shoulders, startling him from his coffee. “Save any pork chops for me?”

“They’s a few back there, I’m sure. Ain’t too many people in today.” He answered, turning back to his coffee. “Geraldine! Danny’s here for his special!” The man yelled across the bar, moving sideways to see if he could see in through the opening in the wall to the kitchen. 

Just then the same woman in the pink apron waltzed through the double-swinging saloon doors, putting on a giant smile as soon as she saw you and Danny. She made her way around the bar, taking Danny’s face between her hands and squeezing his cheeks. “Evenin’, honey.” Her gruff voice said as she swatted his face. 

“Evenin’, Geraldine.” He answered, obviously this was a woman he respected. She turned and found her place again behind the bar, reaching into her apron pocket for her pen and order pad. You and Danny walked to a booth in the middle of the restaurant, and you moved to sit down before he stopped you. 

“Hmm-mm, let me sit there. Wanna see the door.” He said, grabbing your shoulders to scoot you sideways to the opposite booth. 

“Okay…what for?” You questioned. 

“I recognize this one from earlier today, hardly touched her coffee. You make it to Ace’s, honey?” Geraldine interrupted without making eye contact with you as she scribbled something down on her order pad. 

Danny cleared his throat and looked to you, raising his eyebrows. 

“Oh! Me! Yes ma’am, I barely made it, but uh. Got it there before it could die on me. They’re going to fix it right up.” You answered, feeling silly for having to practically yell your business across the diner to answer her. You watched the man you now knew as Bubba turn in his stool, holding the same flat smile as he did when you first came inside. 

“The normal, Danny?” Geraldine asked. 

“Yes please, thanks.” He replied, poking his wrapped silverware onto the tabletop. 

“And for the lady?” She went on. 

You looked down to see no menu in front of you, so you decided to go with your gut. “Um, I’ll have what he’s having?” Your tone was questioning. 

Geraldine smiled. “Pork chop in gravy, mashed potatoes, carrots, and peas, sweetie.”

“Oh, perfect. All but the peas, please.” You replied, watching as Geraldine nodded and made her way back into the kitchen. 

“Why don’t you like peas? They’re good for you.” Danny said, stretching his arm across the back of the booth behind him. You swallowed hard, recalling the memory of the peas rolling across the floor of Peter’s office. The smell of them smashed against your shoes, still fresh in your mind, and easily makes your stomach turn just from the thought. 

“Never been a fan.” You answered, resting your chin in your hand. 

Danny pursed his lips together, leaning in now across the table toward you. You watched as a tiny strand of hair fell in front of his eye, his tongue stuck to the back of his teeth as he inhaled. “I would’ve eaten your peas, Y/N. Tsk tsk.” 

You looked at him in amused confusion, unsure of what his angle really was. After being around him only a grand total of maybe an hour the entire day, you gathered that you could hardly tell if he was joking or serious at any given time. But his overall demeanor was kind, and playful, and he had invited you here tonight, so you intended on learning him better. 

Just while you were here, of course. 

Suddenly two steaming black coffees were placed in front of you, the aroma bringing your senses back to life again. “Cream, sweetie?” Geraldine asked, placing a tiny metal pitcher full of the milky liquid in front of you and turning away before you could answer. 

You poured the cream in, stirring it together until it was mixed, and you blew on it before you took a slow sip, Danny watching your every move intently. 

“Something I can help you with?” You asked him, commenting on his unwelcome stare. 

He snarled his top lip as he shook his head and readjusted in his seat. You took a second to look at him, hoping to maybe intimidate him right back. His dark waves still balled up at his neck, the loose strands falling as curls in front of his face and behind his ears. His tightened jaw and cocked eyebrow letting you know he was still sizing you up. His old black Ford Motors t-shirt stretched tightly across his buff chest and arms, the worn holes around the collar letting you know it was well-loved and worn-in. 

“So. Elementary school. You were there…” he finally spoke up, lighting another sweet-smelling smoke. 

“St. James, yeah. I think you were a couple of years behind me.” You answered, sipping your coffee. 

“Mhmm.” He hummed, taking a puff. “You left in the middle of the year.” 

“How do you remember that?” You asked, realizing he would have only been in the first grade when you left. 

“Because suddenly we didn’t have enough people to have even teams for kickball. You left and we were a man short. Had to ask Willie Addams to play and he couldn’t run for shit. Had the coordination of a fuckin’ baby giraffe.” 

You giggled at him, almost spitting out your coffee. ���Ok, how do you remember that?” You pressed. “You were like 6.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Jake says I have the memory of an elephant, whatever the fuck that means. Anyway, enough talk about zoo animals. Where were you really headed, Y/N? Before you got stuck here with us…” He leaned again, and you noticed his eyes began anxiously darting around, just like Jake’s had done earlier. 

You purposely waited for him to make eye contact with you again, finding it rude that he was looking everywhere but at your face after asking you a question. When he finally did, you answered. 

“I was heading to Atlanta. From Salvation, Iowa.” You replied honestly. “Why?”

“People don’t normally just casually cruise back through their hometown unless they’re looking for something.” He said dryly, taking a sip of his coffee. The white ceramic mug looked tiny in his giant inked hand. 

“Well I’m not people. I wasn’t looking for anything, I just—”

“So you were running.” He raised his eyebrows again, knowing he had struck some type of gold from the obviously surprised look on your face. 

You stayed silent for a beat. He laughed through his nose. 

“I wasn’t running, I was…just, getting away. It’s different.” You tried to dismiss his prying questions, wanting nothing more than for Geraldine to bring you a heaping pile of mashed potatoes so you wouldn’t have to go on about your wasted adventure with a man you hardly knew from Adam. 

“But you left home for a reason, right?” He went on. “If people plan to move, they usually bring along more than a couple suitcases and their old wedding dress, Y/N. You’re telling me you left your makeup vanity and trunk and sofa at home?” 

Fuck. You didn’t wanna talk about this. 

When you stayed silent again, he laughed in satisfaction. “You were running.”

You leaned in close. “Look, if you want to know every detail of my life, you’re gonna have to do a little more than invite me to dinner, Daniel.” You spat. 

“What if I already planned to do a little more?” He inferred, sitting back against the booth and running his hand along his slicked-back hair. 

You choked back. “That’s an awfully forward thing to say to someone you just met.”

“I didn’t just meet you. I knew you in the first grade. And I know I was upset when you weren’t there to play kickball any more.” His eyes began scanning the windows again, jumping back and forth as he spoke. Your heart began racing at his words. 

“Why do you care, Danny? About what I’m doing here?” You asked, truly wanting to know. 

He shrugged, taking another draw of his smoke. “You seem like a fun little challenge. I like challenges. Mysteries. Cracking codes…”

You scoffed. “Well, you sure as hell ain’t cracking anything of mine.”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that one.” The side of his lips curled up as you caught onto his flirtation.  Danny let his smoke hang between his lips as he rubbed his hands together, his fingernails still dirty from the workday. 

You were simultaneously turned off and turned on by his strange way of coming on to you; you knew that was what he was doing, but in some odd way, it was charming. You felt safe with him, even if his way of flirting was nothing like anything you’d ever seen before. 

In the nick of time, Geraldine brought your plates over, setting them in front of you with harsh thuds. “Alright one sans peas, one extra peas. Refill of coffee, and I’ll be back in a bit to check on ya.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” Danny muttered. 

You held his deep gaze as you unrolled your silverware from the tight napkin, and dug directly in to the mashed potatoes without hesitation. He licked his tongue across his teeth as he followed your motions. The two of you ate in silence, and you let yourself enjoy the hot meal in front of you, wondering if Danny would let you forgo the motorcycle ride, and just walk home. 

After a basically wordless and slightly awkward meal, Danny sat and watched as you finished off your coffee, still pushing a pea around the plate with the end of his fork. 

“Good pork chops, right?” He finally asked. 

“Might be the best ones I’ve ever had.” You replied honestly. But you had been so hungry, you might’ve thought shoe leather sounded appetizing had you waited any longer. That apple was long gone. 

“I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He growled, another sly smile creeping to his face. He stretched his neck, the thin lines of the spider web tattoo bulging over his artery. “What are your plans for the night?”  

You placed your napkin and silverware on top of the empty plate, pushing it back a bit to fold your arms across the table. “Sleep.” 

“Well that doesn’t sound like any fun.” He laughed, and if you didn’t know him any better, you would’ve thought he really didn’t believe you. 

“What? That’s really all I’m doing…what else would I do?” You asked sternly. “I don’t know anyone, I don’t have a car, this podunk town doesn’t have much to offer, Danny.”

He sighed as he put his elbows on the table, the sleeves of the tight shirt pulling against his biceps. You took a second to glance at his arms, tanned and bronze from the sun. The black-lined and barely-colored tattoos that covered his arms instantly piqued your interest, but you couldn’t let him know you were looking. In your three-second glance, you noticed the set of dice on the inside of his wrist, some type of messy writing along the inside of his forearm, and a tiger’s face peeking out from under the short sleeve of his shirt. And that was only the few your mind comprehended. 

“You’re right. Ain’t much here. But it can be a good time if you know what you’re looking for.” He raised his eyebrow in question. 

You shook your head. “Not me, thanks. I’d rather not have my face hanging on missing posters around town next week.”

“Why would you say that?” He was taken back. 

“Because you haven’t stopped darting your eyes to the door and out the windows since we got here. Your body language is forcibly relaxed, you’re a little on edge, and I think you’re kind of paranoid. I don’t know why, but you don’t seem like you feel safe in your own town, Danny.” 

He huffed an exasperated laugh. “Of course I feel safe here, why would I live here if I didn’t?” He said defensively. 

“How did you know what room I was in?” You asked, craning your neck sideways. “Jake left before I checked in today. Did you ask Wanda so you could keep tabs on me?”

You clicked your tongue as his eyes bulged from his head at your words. “That’s what I thought. Oh, and you have a switchblade knife stuffed in your boot.”

“How do you know that?” He muttered. 

“Saw it when your pants hiked up when you got off the motorcycle.” You pushed the plate a little further back on the table, and grabbed your purse to make your way to the cash register. You pulled a few crumpled dollars from your wallet and tossed them onto the table. You stood and came to the edge of the booth, leaning down close to Danny’s face to whisper. “If I didn’t know any better, it’d seem that you’re the one who’s running, Danny.”

You gave him a displeased look and turned, snaking your way through the empty tables to pay Geraldine for your suppers. “Thank you, sweetie. Y’all have a good rest of your evenin…” Geraldine said as the cash register dinged closed. You gave Bubba another nod before making your way to the door. You glanced back to Danny, who was still sitting stunned in the wooden booth. 

“You takin’ me back to the motel, or what?”

——

This time, finding your balance on the motorcycle was easy, like you’d been doing it for a hundred years. Danny hadn’t said a word since you left the diner, only offering Bubba and Geraldine a quiet “goodnight”. You pressed your front against Danny’s back, leaning into him as you wrapped your hands around his lower abdomen and sturdied your feet behind his. You let the shyness from earlier drift away, feeling more confident now that you’d spoken your piece to Danny. 

As he picked up speed down the busted pavement, you let your mind wander a bit. 

Ha, he thought he had you pegged. Thought you were another dumb female he could trick into his bed. Pshh. Asking you your plans for the night… please. Though going back to your room alone sounded less than exciting now that your stomach was full. And you were more awake than ever…and he had kind of offered…

No. No way. You didn’t know Danny. 

‘It can be a good time if you know what you’re looking for…’

No. Horrible idea. Sleep. 

Shower, and sleep. 

Just as you made your mind up, you felt Danny’s hand run along the outside of your leg again. What is he doing? He wasn’t cautious, he was confident. Like the motion was the most natural thing he’d ever done. You could feel the heat from his hand radiating through the denim of your jeans, and though his touch was unwelcome, you let it happen. Why were you letting it happen?

He didn’t need to pull you forward into him like he had earlier, you were already pressed against him as far as you could get. You watched as his shoulder flexed as his arm reached back and down to your leg, his fingers gliding lightly over your thigh while he steered with his other hand. Shit, the heat of his touch…

You let your chest press into him just a little closer, and the contact made your nipples instantly stand at attention. Your choice to not wear a bra tonight was silently working against you. But damn, you couldn’t deny…this man was attractive. Very attractive. And you already couldn’t deny the physical chemistry between you, his hand so nonchalantly petting your thigh while his other gripped the handlebar. 

You felt him take a deep breath, his grip tightening on your leg muscle. You realized your other hand had been resting gently on his stomach, holding on tightly as he navigated the bumpy streets. In an act of pure confidence, you let your thumb drift a few inches down, and loop into the hem of his jeans, your other fingers gripping onto his leather belt. With your motion, his hand tightened again, his thumb swiping back and forth as he let his hand drift further back. 

Your mind was frenzied, suddenly your stomach felt tightly wound with an unknown and unwarranted anticipation. Danny removed his hand from your thigh, and kicked his right foot a couple times to shift the bike down. He gripped the bars and turned, and suddenly you were in front of your motel room door. Damn, you hadn’t even noticed you were here already. 

He pulled the kickstand down as he shut off the bike, and you quickly pulled your hand from the way-too-intimate place near his groin. He stood and stepped off the bike, and you followed behind. You cleared your throat as you resituated your purse on your shoulder, suddenly feeling exposed. You pulled your jacket over your chest, and reached into your bag to find the room key. 

“Thanks for the ride.” You purred. 

“Thanks for dinner, I was supposed to pay, you know. I invited you out…”

“No, no. It’s my pleasure, seeing as how you thought of me, and all.” You answered, making your way to unlock the old doorknob. You felt Danny follow behind, walking you to the door. He had shoved his hands in his pockets, and his closed-off demeanor returned, quite the opposite of the confidence he dripped on the bike. 

You unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking on the light inside. Danny stood in the threshold as you dispensed your purse on the table. 

“You were right. I did ask Wanda what room you were in. And before you get freaked out, it wasn’t because I was trying to keep tabs on you. Not in the way you’re thinking, at least.” He said, glancing side to side down either way of the sidewalk before he stepped inside the room just a little. “Y/N, look. You’re right. This town can be dangerous. It ain’t a five-star city. There is a lot that goes on behind closed doors here. So yes, I wanted to know where you were because—”

“You want to keep an eye on me. I get it. I owe you and Jake money, still.” You quipped, unsure of how to feel about that. 

He nodded slowly, leaning his shoulder on the doorframe as he crossed his flexed arms. “Well, yes, but…It’s more for your well-being, Y/N. That’s all. There are some…shady creatures here.” He mumbled, stepping a little further inside. 

You slowly sat down on the bed, feeling the stiff mattress squeak beneath you. His steps were heavy as he came further inside, slowly, his eye contact making you feel like you were going to forget how to breathe. You leaned back on your arms, the gritty brown comforter rough under your fingertips. “Are you one of those…shady creatures?” You asked, barely above a whisper as you found him standing almost directly between your legs. 

He lifted his almost completely-inked hand and pushed away a tiny strand of hair that had fallen across your forehead, brushing it back to join the rest of your hair. Your heart rate picked up at his subtle touch, his calloused and dirty fingertips just barely grazing the side of your face. “Guess it depends on who you ask…” his words were slow, his bottom lip biting slowly into his mouth as he spoke. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and you instantly felt the same chemistry as earlier begin to ravage your body again. He was towering over you so close, your legs pressed apart by the outsides of his. His knees touched the edge of the bed, and you could tell his hands were arguing with his brain about touching you again. Somewhere. Anywhere. 

He pushed your hair back again, drifting his hand down your cheek and finally to your chin, his thumb and pointer working as a team to slowly crane your neck up to look him in the eyes. Your hands were begging you to rake your nails up underneath his tight t-shirt, just to get a feel of what was beneath it. But you didn’t. 

“You’re different, aren’t you, Y/N?” He finally whispered. 

“Mmm, what do you mean?” 

He furrowed his brow as he lightly squeezed your chin between his fingers, his eyes studying every detail of your face. 

“I dunno…you just have something about you. Can’t quite put my finger on it yet.” He bit his lip again. You felt a ragged breath escape your lungs, and you hoped to god your body language wasn’t reflecting how you felt right now. 

“But, I intend on figuring you out.” His thumb drifted up a bit, barely ghosting over your bottom lip. It took everything in you to not pull it into your mouth, reach your tongue out and taste him, but you stopped yourself. Can’t go there tonight, as much as you really wanted to. 

Against every coherent thought, your knees pressed in toward each other, searching for some type of relief, causing Danny’s body to move in a bit closer to you. A low laugh left his chest as he continued to brush his thumb over your lip, pressing a little harder when you made him fall into you. “A fuckin’ gem, aren’t you?” 

You swallowed, unsure how to answer. Or how to think, for that matter. This gorgeous man standing between your legs in your hotel room, you barely know him at all…but already you felt like you could grip the soft cotton of his t-shirt and yank him down into the bed beside you, and have your way with him until the sun came up. Because, what do you have to lose?

“Will have a ride for you tomorrow. Get some sleep.” He muttered, his eyelids hooded over his deep brown eyes as he peered down to you. You watched his Adams apple jerk as he swallowed, regaining the same composure you were begging yourself to find. He stepped back and turned to exit through the still-open door. “Lock this behind me.”

And before you could gather even the simplest thought, he was gone. 

—

You stood naked in front of the scratched and lopsided hanging mirror in the bathroom, waiting the long five minutes for the shower to heat, just as Wanda had said. Your skin was still flushed from the close intensity from Danny just a few short minutes ago, and your heart rate was just now slowing from the interaction. 

Shit. You aren’t supposed to feel these things…you just left Peter. You were on the search to enrich your life, go wild, not add drama and danger to it…

But, you had set out in search of an adventure, could this be it? Could this strange, gritty, already confusing mechanic be your ticket to letting loose? You’d never had those young years to explore yourself and sow your oats; Peter was one of your very first serious boyfriends ever, and one of only a handful of partners you’d had before that. Half of your mind was terrified from Danny’s words of warning, and the other half of you said fuck it, chase it. Why not? What do you honestly have to lose at this point? 

You stepped into the now steaming shower and began to suds up the plain white bar of soap that was wrapped up on the countertop. You let the hot streams of water calm your muscles and your nerves as you ran over the events of your crazy day. 

‘Will have a ride for you tomorrow…’ 

What did that mean? You chalked it up to he would probably be picking you up again in the morning to go back to the garage to give a down payment, or something. Either way, you’d wake up to a new day, and you were already hoping it’d be just as eventful as today. 

——

The growling sound of an engine outside the motel startled you from your daydream as you watched the picture on the television blur and scatter back and forth. A glance at your watch told you it was 10am exactly, and you walked to the peephole to see who had pulled up. 

It wasn’t the person you expected to see. You unlocked the door and swung it open, the still misty morning air chilling your face. 

“Jake, morning. What are you—”

“You ready to sign your quote? I’m ordering the parts today.” He interrupted as he slammed his truck door shut. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just let me grab my bag.” You stepped back inside, slightly confused; you fully expected to see Danny pull up on his motorcycle to whisk you away again. 

You stepped outside and locked the door behind you, and you and Jake both hopped up into the truck. Jake was silent again, and you were coming to realize he didn’t speak unless it was completely necessary, or unless spoken to. He was a man of few words, but you gathered that he probably wasn’t being outwardly rude, just was his nature to be quiet. You hoped, at least. 

He reached down and cranked his window, the air blowing his freshly-showered scent around in the cab of the truck. The scent of Brut after-shave tingled in your nose; you’d know that smell anywhere. It made you look his way, seeing that his skin was actually visible now that he wasn’t covered in grease and dirt. His hand gripped the tree, shifting it to third as his speed leveled out on the road. 

His hands were completely covered in tattoos just like Danny’s were, and they crawled up his wrist and forearm, all the way to his shoulder and into his neck. His cutoff t-shirt exposed his chest and side, also covered in a swirling piece of art that was laced with deep reds and blues. There were hundreds of them. And you were willing to bargain that each and every one had a story. 

His ever-present cigarette hung between his lips as he stayed focused on the road, his shoulder length locks whipping around in the wind. You hadn’t seen him like this yet…clean, natural, and normal. His demeanor was the same as it was yesterday, straightforward and no-nonsense. 

“That’s yours, if you want it.” He gestured between you on the bench seat, pointing to a large biscuit wrapped up in wax paper. “I couldn’t eat two.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you. Thanks.” You began to unwrap it and tear off little pieces, bringing them shyly to your mouth. “Didn't poison it, did you?” 

He huffed what you think was a laugh through his nose. “No. If you died I’d have to steal the part money from your purse, and I don’t want to do that.” Was that his attempt at a joke?

You giggled, again unsure how to take him. 

“Where’s Danny? I figured he’d be the one scooping me up after last night.” You asked, taking another bite of biscuit. 

His head shot your way, his eyes narrowed. “Last night?”

“Yeah, he picked me up on his bike, we got some food at Louie’s. Said he’d be back today.” Now that you thought about it, he never actually said he would be the one picking you up, just that there would be a ride for you here today. 

“Ah, so he took you on a date.” Jake muttered, his voice low again over the radio. 

“No, it wasn’t a date. He just invited me to eat with him. Knew I shouldn’t walk through town to get food by myself. He was being thoughtful.” You suddenly felt defensive of Danny. 

“Thoughtful. So, a date.” Jake responded, blowing smoke out the window before flicking the cigarette onto the road. 

“So what if it was?” You decided to play along. “What would it matter?” 

He shook his head with a mock laugh. “Danny is a nice guy, but he doesn’t take women on dates. That I can assure you.” 

You felt offended. “So, what, just a one night stand kind of guy?” 

Jake let a one-syllable laugh fall from his lips as he raised his eyebrows, shifting back down to make the tight turn up the hill to the shop. “Guess you could say that.” 

Why was he always so vague? 

Just as you were nearing the shop, Jake reached his arm across the bench seat and across your lap, leaning almost all the way onto you to crank the window all the way down. He rolled the handle quickly, his bicep muscle flexing hard right in front of your eyes. 

“Oh, sorry, I could have done that–” you sputtered. 

“It’s a son of a bitch to roll, requires a little bit of elbow grease.” He said before throwing the truck in park and shutting off the engine. “I’ve got your paperwork ready, all you have to do is sign for the total and put half down. Rest will be due when it’s fixed.”

He was halfway out of the truck and still talking, so you clambered your way out, too, to make sure you caught the tail end of what he was saying. The two of you walked into the shop, vehicles already pulled into the bay with the hoods popped. Loud music was coming from an old radio on a high shelf, an old Johnny Cash song bouncing off the walls. 

“Daniel, can you please turn that fucking shit down? Jesus Christ!” Jake yelled. 

You watched as Danny’s curls emerged out from underneath an old Cadillac, his feet pushing him out as he laid on a creeper. He gave you a quick tiny smile when you made upside-down eye contact. 

“When you open the shop on time and get in here when you’re fuckin’ supposed to, maybe I’ll consider your goddamn propositions, Jake. I mean shit, we live here.” He rolled all the way out and stood from the creeper, watching as Jake slowly ascended the old metal stairs on the side of the building. “I’ve been the only one here since fuckin’ 7:00. Why the fuck would I turn my music down if I’m the only one getting my fuckin’ hands dirty?” Danny spat. 

You looked up onto the lofted area of the shop, watching as Jake topped the steps and walked across, flipping Danny the bird from above before looking to you and switching his middle finger to his pointer, signaling for you to ‘come here’, and follow him up the stairs. 

You hopped into action, making your way to the staircase to follow Jake to the top. When you got up there, you looked around to find this was the office area. Tons and tons of old papers stacked away in messy piles, collecting dust and dirt. Boxes that held forgotten parts, shelves filled to the brim with old 3-ring binders, dusty photos on the wall, and in the center of it all, an old wooden desk with a chair that had seen better days. You watched as Jake pulled the string hanging from a single fluorescent light, plopping into the chair as the light buzzed to life. 

He pulled on a pair of thin wired readers, peering down to a ledger that looked similar to the one Wanda took your room reservation in. He was fingering through a parts manual and double checking his work on a calculator, so you took a second to look at a few of the black and white photos hanging framed on the wall. 

One, a larger photo, hung right in the middle of the rest. It was a man in a white tank top, dirty as can be, a pair of old slacks pulled up to his belly button. He was leaned with his back against an old black Chevelle, a cigarette hanging from his lips. He wasn’t smiling, just standing stoically with his arms crossed across his chest. He looked strikingly exactly like Jake, except the photo must have been taken when the man was a bit older than Jake is now. 

“Jake, this man looks just like you…is he—”

“Was. My father, yes.” He said, voice flat. 

“Handsome…” you muttered. “Was this his shop before it was yours?” 

He nodded, still looking to his ledger. “Yeah. Ace.”

You pulled your eyes from the photo, walking slowly back to the desk. “Ace…Ace’s garage. How long has he…been gone?” You wanted to put the words right back into your mouth as soon as they left it. It wasn’t any of your business. 

“He died the day before my eighteenth birthday. You wanna come sign here?” Jake said, extending a pen out for you. 

Damn, Jake. That’s heavy. 

You walked over to take a look at the estimate, seeing that the price was actually not as much as you thought it would be. “So half now, half when it’s done?” You reiterated, signing your name across the slip of paper. 

“Yep.” He responded shortly. 

You reached into your purse and pulled out the white envelope of your cash, counting it out in hundreds and fifties. As you slowly counted out loud, you took special care to run your fingers over the stiff new bills, making sure none stuck together. In the middle of them all was an old fifty dollar bill, a giant red “X” drawn across the President’s face. 

“Someone didn’t like Grant, I guess.” You laughed, trying to break the awkward silence as he watched you count. 

When you were finally finished, you gathered the bills up and handed them to Jake in a nice neat stack. “Thanks.” He said, taking the cash and stuffing it in a till box before shoving it in a safe. 

“Thank you. Hey, think I could use your restroom really quickly?” You asked, feeling like your bladder was about to burst with shitty motel room coffee. 

He threw his glasses down onto the table and pulled the light off, giving you a funny look before leading you back toward the stairs again. “Only bathroom here is mine and Danny’s, probably ain’t the cleanest.” He said as he quickly jumped down the steps. 

“It’s no problem.” You answered. How bad could it be?

He led you underneath the loft and through a door, into a dark hallway with multiple doors. “Last one on the left.” Jake hit the wall with his palm before walking back into the bay. 

This must be the part they live in. As you passed by the other doors, one was closed, and the other was cracked open to reveal what looked to be a messy bedroom. A mattress on the floor covered in disheveled blankets, liquor bottles on the makeshift nightstand, and clothes strewn about. 

When you finally reached the bathroom door, what you found inside was nothing short of disgusting. Although he had warned you…

One light bulb hanging from the ceiling, the sink full of hair and stained black from the grease off their hands, a completely black toothpaste tube that didn’t have a lid, flattened toothbrushes that were missing half of their bristles…

The list went on as you looked around in utter disgust. Men are so gross.  You were positive the place had never been cleaned. 

You swallowed and held your breath as you opened the broken toilet lid, finding it less-than-desirable with a ring in the bowl. You shuddered at what you were about to do, but if you didn’t pee right now you were going to have to resort to the woods out back. Would probably be cleaner out there, actually…but at least there is toilet paper. 

You tried not to think too hard about it as you quickly relieved yourself, using a small piece of toilet paper to touch the lever handle to flush. 

“Ew ew ew ew.” You mumbled, deciding to not even wash your hands at the risk of dirtying them further. But even if you had, your drying options were toilet paper or their stained to hell bath towels hanging over the rod.

You were entirely grossed out, and decided to get back out to the bay as soon as you could. You flicked the light switch and reentered the hallway, noticing that the closed door across the way was opening at the same time. 

To your surprise, a woman emerged from the room, slowly closing the door behind her. She had to be about ten years your senior, at least. 

“Hey, Sug.” She murmured, rubbing sleep from her eyes. When she turned to face you, you noticed what she was wearing. 

Danny’s black Ford Motors t-shirt he had on last night. 

Your stomach dropped, suddenly it hit you exactly why he wasn’t the one picking you up this morning. 

You gave her a tight smile and a simple “Good morning” as her keys jingled in her hand. Her makeup was definitely left over from last night, and she was carrying a pair of red high heels. 

“I haven’t seen you ‘round here before…” she said, her voice still raspy with sleep. 

“Oh, I’m…I’m a customer. They’re fixing my car. Just was…using the restroom.” You explained. 

“Oh honey, no one’s ever just a customer…” She winked, before leading the two of you back out into the bay. 

Whose room did she just come from?

—

JAKE POV

Fuck this god damn piece of shit Chevrolet. 

Two weeks you’ve been working on this fuckin’ truck, and in those two weeks you had gotten barely anything accomplished with rebuilding the motor. And now you had another to do on top of it.

Isn’t it supposed to be Fords that have engine trouble? American muscle my ass. They’re all shit. 

You stepped up onto the step ladder and peered back down into the belly of your newest arch-nemesis, cursing at its guts with every turn of your wrench. You look down to the floor spitting before turning your attention back under the hood.

Come on Ace. What is wrong with this son of a bitch? Help me out…

You glanced over to Danny, watching as he walked outside to empty his stomach again after the late night he’d had. Out all night drinking with his latest piece, stumbling back into the shop at 3am. Then he was back up at 7? You weren’t sure where he got his stamina…maybe he just didn’t sleep at all. 

As you compiled the list of parts you’d need for Y/N’s engine last night, Danny swung by your office to tell you he was leaving, only to peer over your shoulder and see her name at the top of the Quote sheet.

“She’s a fuckin’ smokeshow…” 

“Can you please try not to sleep with this one? She seems like a decent human being… You don’t have to sleep with all of them you know.” you’d joked. 

“Jesus, Jake. I’m not that bad of a person. Cut me some slack. Just cause you haven’t gotten laid in few months doesn’t mean you have to shit on me…”

You’d pushed up from your chair and slammed your hands into his shoulders, pushing him back against the wall behind you, but his height was no match for you. 

“Fuck you, Daniel. Just…listen to me. I saw her making eyes at you…Don’t fuck this up for us.” you said. 

“Did you really?” You’d watched as his gears began to turn. “What was her room number?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, Danny. You’re not going to her motel. Just leave her be.” You tried your best to warn him nicely. “Like you told me, she’s a paying customer. We need her to pay us…”

He sighed when he realized. “Shit. You’re right, damnit. Okay, okay. I won’t go.”

But, from the conversation you had with Y/N on the ride in this morning, you realized the fucker lied to you. He went anyway and she was clearly all about it. 

You wanted to warn her. You tried to tell her that Danny was a one night stand type, that he didn’t wine and dine like the regular guy would, but apparently she didn’t listen, either.  

As a bolt finally popped loose, it fell into the engine, tipping you over the edge of insanity.

Fuck! This! Truck!

You jumped off of the ladder and went over to the fridge under the loft, grabbing a cold Budweiser from the dirty shelf. You held the neck of the amber bottle on the edge of your toolbox, smashing your fist down on the lid, effectively popping it off. You tilted it back, letting the cold beverage run down your throat as you swallowed. Nothing like a breakfast beer. 

Just then, you heard the shop door close and two sets of footsteps making their way out. All you could do was watch as the perfect storm brewed right in front of your eyes. How the fuck was he gonna explain this one... Y/N, Danny, and whoever his woman of the night was, all waltzing into the middle of the bay at the exact same time. As you caught sight of the woman you let out a scoff. 

Fuck, Danny. 

Tanya. The woman that lived in that house down on Robertson, hardly any personality at all, great tits, and apparently she was a panther in bed. Or so you’d heard. She was nice enough, and Danny always ended up bringing her around every couple of months. You didn’t dislike her, but you sure as hell didn’t want to be her friend, either. You didn’t trust her as far as you could throw her, and last you heard, she was involved with some folks you didn’t need to be associating with. 

You paused with your beer in hand, sticking the other in your pocket as you watched the scene unfold. Your fingers twirled around a lug nut as your eyes followed Tanya, walking directly up to Daniel, wrapping her long skinny arms around his neck, and pulling him in for one last long, and especially involved, goodbye kiss. This wasn’t her typical goodbye, and you knew she was marking her territory in front of Y/N. Which is why you laughed, knowing that she wouldn’t hear from Daniel for at least a month. However, it wasn’t lost on you, the tense nature of Daniel’s body as she kissed him. His eyes open wide and looking across the bay towards Y/N.

Your eyes drifted directly to Y/N, watching as her face fell into utter disbelief. Her jaw fell slack for a second before she clamped it shut again, obviously feeling something unexpected from the sight in front of her. Whatever little daydream she had dreamed up between the two of them had all just come crashing down.

You noticed she suddenly felt out of place, bringing her embarrassed eyes to meet yours in question. You smirked, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your beer as smugly as you could. You shrugged your shoulders and raised your beer bottle in the air towards her as you watched her face flame red.

Hate to say I told ya so, baby. 

—

HER POV

You have got to get out of here. 

But where the hell are you gonna go?

You let your feet carry you out the bay garage door out into the heat of the day, wanting to be anywhere but inside that damn building right now. Why did it matter? Why did you care?

The moment you and Danny shared last night was anything but fantastic, but it was still there. It was intimate, though he had done nothing but skim his fingertips across your face. 

You didn’t care. It’s no big deal. 

But why did he look at you while he kissed her? And why was Jake so amused by it?

You stomped across the dirt parking lot to your Scout, flinging the door open to dig around and find anything that could offer up a distraction. You unzipped a suitcase, finding all of your clothing still neatly folded and tucked away. Underneath a pair of old ratted bell bottoms, you pulled out your ticket to diversion from Danny for the rest of the day: Maya Angelou’s complete collection of poems. 

Perfect. 

The book was worn around the edges, you had read it so much as a kid. You practically had every poem memorized. 

After replacing your folded clothing neatly back in the suitcase, you decided you had to make your way back inside at some point…you knew they had a full workday ahead, and it would be rude to ask for a ride back to the motel at this point. 

You slammed the door shut, shielding your eyes from the bright sun directly above. The shadowy silhouette of Tanya was walking toward you as you walked toward the building, still barefoot and wobbly as she crept across the dirt and gravel toward the road. You swallowed hard, knowing an interaction was unavoidable at this point. 

“Catch ya around, sweetcheeks.” She said as your paths crossed. She let her body come close to yours, her shoulder bumping into your chest as she stumbled. “And just so ya know, the tall, dark, and handsome one?” She pointed her finger tip into her own chest. “Mine. Got it, Iowa?”

You snarled your nose up to her at her display; you could still smell the liquor on her breath from last night. Her eyes were hazed and obviously still high on whatever it was she was doing the night before. 

“No worries on my end.” You said blankly, wanting to get the hell away from her while simultaneously wanting to punch her in the face for assuming you wanted Danny. 

You kept walking past her back into the shop, walking on the other side of the truck Jake was working on to stay as far away from Danny as you could. You didn’t want to risk him noticing that you even cared. 

You sat down in one of the ratty, dirty lawn chairs alongside the wall where Jake was working, getting as comfortable as you could before opening your book. You wanted to get lost in the words, letting them bring you back down to earth in a way only poetry could. 

You glanced to Danny as he stepped up on the wall of shelves on his side of the bay, reaching high above his head to turn the knob on his radio up to a higher volume. He hopped down, a giant cheesing smile across his face as ‘Fortunate Son’ blared from the speaker. Jake slowly raised his head from under the hood of the truck, shaking it from side to side as he stared Danny down. You realized then that’s why Danny put his stereo up so high, so that Jake physically couldn’t reach it. 

You flipped the pages of your book for the next half hour or so, letting Maya’s words take you to another planet entirely. You listened to the sounds of their socket wrenches and power tools as they worked away, providing a surprisingly relaxing background sound. 

“Whatcha reading?” Jake’s voice was barely audible over the loud noises around you. You closed the book cover, holding your fingers between the pages to keep your spot. 

“Maya Angelou’s poems. Kinda corny, I know. But–”

“The caged bird sings with fearful trill

of the things unknown but longed for still

and his tune is heard on the distant hill

for the caged bird sings of freedom.”

Your jaw fell open as Jake finished reciting Maya’s most famous poem to a tee, not faltering over any word and pausing at the most perfect times for the poem to hold its structure. 

He hadn’t pulled his focus away from what he was doing until he realized you didn’t respond, then grinned a smile so big it made your heart stop. 

“How did you…? You know Ms. Angelou?”

“My mom loved her. Read me her poems as a kid before I could even walk. I don’t remember the sound of my mom’s voice, but those words stuck with me.” He said, only glancing up to you every few words as he kept focused. 

You were floored. This was not something you expected from Jake, let alone for him to open up about his explanation as to why he knew of her work. You felt a warmth in your stomach…maybe there was something sweet under his tough exterior after all. 

After a bit, the shop telephone started ringing. You looked to both of the guys as they worked, realizing neither of them even noticed it was ringing. Maybe the phone doesn’t work? A couple minutes later, it started again, ringing and ringing off the hook for so long the shrillness started to irritate your ears. 

“Do you want me to go get that, or what?” You asked. Jake scoffed an exasperated sigh, hopping backwards off his step stool as he pulled his red towel from his back pocket of his coveralls. He wiped his hands as best he could as he rushed up the steps to answer it. 

You glanced to Danny, watching as he leaned over the hood of the car he was working on, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. You hadn’t made eye contact or spoken since Tanya left a while ago, and you had to admit, it pissed you off a little. After last night’s…moment… he at least owed you something, right? 

Once he noticed Jake was all the way upstairs, he confidently walked over your way, twirling his own towel in his hands. “You gonna let me buy you lunch today?” He asked. 

“Why should I do that?” You answered blankly, not looking up from your book. 

“Because I’m hungry, I know you’re hungry, and you bought dinner. It’s only fair.” He was so matter of fact. 

“Are you not meeting back up with Miss Red High Heels for lunch today?” Shit. Your attitude ended up getting the better of you. 

“Who, Tanya?” He asked, pointing his thumb behind him. “Fuck, no. She’s just–”

“A good lay?” You inquired, pulling your eyes up to him finally, flicking your eyelashes in the most sarcastic way you could. 

He let his arms fall to his sides in defeat. “Listen, Y/N. Just let me take you to lunch, please? I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman.” He finished the end of his sentence with a smirk and a wink, instantly making your insides swirl. What the hell is he doing to you?

“Alright, I guess. But only because I’m hungry, not because I want to hang out with you.” You gave him a side smile as you agreed. 

You watched as he leaned his elbows down on the side panel of the truck Jake was working on, resting his chin in his hand. 

“Mmm, I bet you do want to hang out with me though, especially if you let me a little further into your motel room after…”

“We gotta close up.” Suddenly Jake was bounding down the stairs, his steps heavy as he barrelled toward you and Danny. “Close it up, let’s go.” He slammed the hood of the truck down as soon as Danny had backed off of it enough. 

You stood from your chair in surprise. “Why, what’s wrong?”

You watched as Danny shoved his towel into his pocket, his expression immediately turning into alarm. 

“Fuck, was it Teddy on the phone?” He asked Jake as he ran around, closing the lid on his tool box and wheeling it under the loft. 

“Yeah, it was fuckin’ Teddy. Hurry up.” Jake hastily walked to the bay door, pulling on the long chain to lower the large garage doors down to the ground with a slam. 

“What’s going on? Who is Teddy?” You asked in a panic as they ran around you like chickens with their heads cut off. 

Danny closed all the doors on the vehicles in the bay, and threw a large black tarp over the motorcycle he had propped up on a block. They tossed all the rogue tools into the appropriate boxes, shutting the lids as they did so. 

What the fuck is going on?!

Anxiety began to creep into your chest as you watched them rush around in a panic. 

After a few minutes of fury, they met in the middle of the bay, in a fit of panted exhaustion and sweaty skin. They stood with their hands on their hips, looking around the shop. Jake pulled his Lucky Strikes from his pocket, nervously lighting one up with a zippo he pulled from his pocket. 

“Fuck!” He muttered as the smoke left his lungs. “Did we miss anything?” He asked Danny rhetorically. 

“No, how long do we have? Do they want a game?”

“Yeah, they want a fuckin’ game. They’ll be here at sunset. Shit.” Jake answered, both of their eyes still darting around in shifted motions. 

Finally, at the same time, their eyes landed on you standing before them in complete and utter shock. 

“Have her help you set up, then take her back to my bedroom. Lock the door.” Jake finally commanded Danny. 

“No, are you fuckin’ stupid? I’m taking her back to the motel, she’ll be safe there.” Danny argued. 

“No, god damnit! She’s staying here where we can keep an eye on her, the last thing we need is fucking free collateral, Danny. She stays here and hides.”

“Hides?! Wait, what the fuck–” your heart began pounding. 

“If she’s here, they’ll know we’re hiding something, Jake! They aren’t stupid! If she’s back at the motel at least she’s far enough away—” Danny was raising his voice to Jake now in opposition, their chests almost touching as they spat in each other’s faces. 

“Daniel, are you fuckin’ mental? You know Wanda isn’t trustworthy anymore. And Tanya was just here! You know Bubba found out who she’s been hanging around. And she saw Y/N! You think it’s a coincidence that two hours later, we get a call from Teddy?! Are you fuckin’ stupid?” Jake slammed a screwdriver across the floor, letting it bounce and glide across the concrete until it hit the wall. He stepped away from Danny, walking toward the back of the bay to continue what he was doing. 

“I told you to stay away from that fucking crowd, and what did you do? Bring one of them back with you to fuck into the mattress all night.” Jake yelled, and you watched as Danny lurched his way toward him. 

But before Danny could make it, Jake turned and held his elbow out, catching Danny’s body across the chest. “Don’t fucking come up on me like that Daniel, I swear to god. Go set up the fucking table, or get the fuck out of my shop. Take your pick.” Jake spat into his face. 

Danny begrudgingly backed away, his hands balled into fists. “I’m not leaving you here alone.” 

Jake’s demeanor instantly softened. “You better fucking not.” He mumbled, licking his lips. Jake motioned with his eyes for Danny to retreat to the back, just like he had asked. 

Danny breezed past you as he walked, catching your arm and pulling you along as he did so. 

“Come on, need your help.” He muttered. 

You ripped your arm from his grasp, flinging it away with as much force as you could muster. 

“Danny! Tell me what the hell is going on or I am leaving!” You yelled in his face, purely enraged that they were leaving you 100% out of the picture, while deciding what to do with you. 

He sighed, eyes darting around again. “I promise you, I will explain everything soon. And I promise, I will take you on that lunch date.” His hand came up and brushed your elbow, while the other pulled your hair away from your face. His touch was so gentle, while he had just been seconds away from a brawl with Jake. His eyes bored deep into yours, somehow soft while yours were filled with fear. 

“We’re gonna keep you safe. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, you hear me?” He was gripping hard at your shoulders now, talking like he was hyping himself up instead of you. “I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?”

“Danny… I–I don’t even know you…” you mumbled, your fight or flight beginning to kick in as the sounds of Jake banging loud things together in the bay echoed off the walls. 

“Yeah you do, you know me. You knew me a long time ago.” His eyes shot to Jake again, still loudly throwing tools into containers. Suddenly his face was close to yours, his grip on your arms now almost an embrace. 

“I’m not a bad guy, Y/N. I swear I’m not. I’m just…” he winced as he searched for the words. “Listen, I like you, and even though you’ve only been around a day or two, you’ve been the only thing on my mind since the minute you pulled up at the shop, okay? You...you make me nervous. And people don’t make me nervous.” He licked his lips as his hands gripped the sides of your head. “But right now, I’m asking you to trust me. If not completely, just until tomorrow, okay? Please?” He pleaded. 

Fuck, did you have a choice?

You threw all caution to the wind as your mind fought against every red flag presenting itself. You nodded quickly. “Okay. Okay, shit.” you finally agreed. 

Danny’s expression fell straight to relief as he gripped his large, grease-covered hands over yours, pulling you back to their living quarters in a hurry. 

“Then let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

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If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please fill out this form!

Taglist: @gretavanmoon @wetkleenex-gvf @eyelinerjake @farfromthehomelands @sacredstarcatcher @britney-gvf @stardustjake @jakesmustache @starshine-wagner @mweasley19 @emsfallingsky @joopsenthusiast @ageofbajabule @ladywhimsymoon @vanfleeter @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @ageoflou @freefallthoughts @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @literal-dead-leaf @welllauragvf @writingcold @bizzielisteningtogreta @neptune2324 @Racheljuneeee @itsafullmoon @violet-hayes @gvfmarge @demonrat444 @mybussyinchrist @cl0ver-j4de @earthgrlsreasy @what-i-read-home-of-reblogs-mama @mama-likes72

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fic #jake kiszka #danny wagne r #jacob thomas kiszka #daniel robert wagner #greta van fluff #gvf smut #gvf fic #gvf series #jake gvf #valor gvf #gvf #jake kiszka smut #daniel wagner smut #gvf danny #daniel wagner #janny gvf #jacob kiszka #janny lane #gretavangroupie #jtk x reader #gretavanfluff #greta van angst #drw x reader #valor

[dmercer91]

happy birthday, ee73

i was today years old when i learnt i share a birthday with eddy and shango

this is short but i ran out of cryptic college hockey boy things to say

yourusername

liked by edwards.73, markestapa and 629 others

yourusername: eddy can have his first legal drink since last summer! (when he was home and could literally legally drink) happy birth you stupid prick, i love you <3

view 112 comments..

edwards.73: i am not stupid

→ yourusername: that’s not a real airtight defence baby i still called you a prick

→ edwards.73: that i can be

→ markestapa: @/yourusername who do u think you are calling my boyfriend baby

→ yourusername: YOUR boyfriend 🤨 ethan???? who is this??

→ edwards.73: uhhhh baby i can explain

→ markestapa: WHICH ONE OF US ARE YOU TALKING TO

→ edwards.73: FUCK IDK STOP YELLING AT ME MAN

edwards.73: thank you, baby <3

→ yourusername: <3

nolan_moyle: cold hamburger

→ yourusername: mmmmmmm lukewarm actually

→ noylan_moyle: scalding hot french fries?

→ yourusername: oh yeah

markestapa: birth is a term which here means the emergence of a baby or other young from the body of its mother; the start of life as a physically separate being. in this case, that would the process ethan edwards' mother endured on the sixth of june, 2002, and not the event taking place on the sixth of june, 2023. the word you are looking for at the beginning of the final sentence in your caption is 'birthday', which here means the same date an individual was born, but in the years following their birth.

→ yourusername: bro thinks he's lemony snicket

dylanduke25: excellent use of foreshadowing with that last photo

→ yourusername: excuse me

→ dylanduke25: what did you fart

lhughes_06: i see the insults aren't put on hold as a birthday gift

→ yourusername: it's my only source of comedy luke please stop trying to make me be nice

mackie.samo: why include duker in the birthday post

→ yourusername: cause ethan looks hot all sweaty and shirtless

→ mackie.samo: i need to start keeping these questions to myself

→ yourusername: and take away all my chances to call eddy hot??? that comment was very anti me i fear

seamuscasey26: hap bjorth

→ yourusername: real

g.brindley4: proposal before marriage 😟

→ yourusername: right?? in this day and age?

luca.fantilli: dog

→ yourusername: rat

→ adamfantilli: cat

→ jdrusk53: nelom 👹

→ yourusername: ok who let him out

→ rutgermcgroarty: ...

view more comments..

#e's edits! #ethan edwards #ethan edwards x reader #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #new jersey devils #umich wolverines #umich hockey

[withastorytotell]

When Jim Rohn said "Something my parents taught me that they practiced all their life is 'don't miss anything'. Don't miss the game. Don't miss the concert. Don't miss the performance. Don't miss the show. Don't miss the conversation. Don't miss the sermon. Don't miss the class. Don't miss anything. Go look, see, learn, try, taste. When my father was 73 years old after my mother was gone or 93 years old before he died, if you would have called him at 10:30, 11:00 at night he wouldn't be home. He's at the concert. He's at church. He's at the rodeo. He's watching the kids plays softball. Every night. Somewhere. Unbelievable. Let that flavor of life be part of your lifestyle. Go taste. Go listen. Go enjoy. " I think I needed to hear that among all the don't do this and don't do that and when will I ever find the time.

#jim rohn #inspirational quotes #life #aesthetic #spilled words #writeblr #art #dark academia #art gallery #chaotic academia #literature #motivation #reasons to live #quote of the day #studyblr #coffee #afternoon thoughts #text #good advice #how to live #parenting

[sbrown82]

I just read your posts about what Marsha went through with Mick and his lack of parental support towards his first born child with her. Very informative and well written! Now I'm wondering what are your thoughts on Mick Jagger being a father to his 8th kid, and at 73? I feel so bad for his kids, and Marsha seemed to be genuinely in love with him, unlike some of the other mothers. Ronnie Wood isn't far behind him either...

My thoughts? I think Mick Jagger is an 80 year old geezer who's with a woman young enough to be his grandchild! 🥴🤢 He's dogged A LOT of women in his life, especially Marsha Hunt. I mean, twelve years is a LONG time not to see your fucking kid, especially for no damn reason. Now, idk if he loves this girl, but he's probably with her because she's young and pretty, cuz....that's what men like him do. But now, the mf has 8 kids (half of whom are older than her) by 5 different women (most of whom he cheated on the previous one with). Just nasty! In the words of Keith Richards, "Mick's a randy old bastard."

#mick jagger #marsha hunt #the rolling stones #melanie hamrick #just eww #he don't even hold her hand or walk with her #kids #children #old men #ask #sbrown82

[splashclan-clangen]

Gannetstar

more info below, potential spoiler warning! I use these character bios as a way to keep track of my SplashClan game which means that all the information is up to date with the current in-game events, not where I left off with the youtube series

Gannet was a rogue who was taken in and raised by an older cat named Mint after the death of her mother. They both decided to join the clans and Gannettalon was later chosen to become the leader of SplashClan, thanks to Mintshade’s guidance and teachings of self-preservation above all else. Leadership proved to be a challenging task for Gannetstar which led them into feeling lost.

To prove themselves, she became involved with a long-lasting conflict with HazeClan. The loss of her children, strained relationships with their clanmates, and pursuit of power took a toll on not just Gannetstar’s leadership, but their mind. Gannetstar’s time as leader was marked by war, the deaths of her family, the mistreatment of their own apprentices, and their own transformation into a ruthless and manipulative leader. Gannetstar ultimately died and joined the dark forest to scheme against the clans.

Names: Gannetstar (leader name), Gannettalon (warrior name), Gannet (birth name)

Current Affiliation: The Dark Forest, formerly belonging to SplashClan

Past Affiliation: None, former rogue

Gender: Demigirl (she/they)

Sexuality: Pansexual

Age: 172 months at death (14 years; born 79 months before SplashClan's founding)

Nine Lives: Whorlnip (protection), Jaggedpath (clear judgement), Shrewkit (adventure), Snaptangle (sympathy), Leafpaw (mentoring), Unnamed elder (persitence), Speckletoe (unity), Vixenswoop (devotion), Mintshade (leadership through the darkest times)

Deputies: Brackenshade (months 0-91; retired), Lightspots (months 91-93; succeeded as leader)

Cause of Death(s):

Life One - died from a broken bone + various injuries recieved from a dog attack (month 84)

Life Two - bitten by a venomous snake (month 92)

Remaining Lives - succumbed to old age (month 93)

Description-

brown ticked tabby-and-white cat with long fur and eyes of sunlit ice; has a scarred tail from when Lightspots challenged her and a bite wound from a fight with a gray fox

Traits: Bloodthirsty and a good speaker (leader)

Role: Leader (formerly a warrior)

Relationships

Adoptive Mother and Mentor: Mintshade

Former Mates: Striker and Snapfern (broken up with both; became mates with Snapfern in month 47)

Kits: Tornrun, Icywhisker, and Jellyfishspeckle (with Striker; born in month 13) + Patchouliprickle (with Snapfern; born in month 67)

Apprentices: Sagepeak (months 0-6), Quietpaw (months 65-68), and Patchouliprickle (months 73-78)

Romantic Feelings: Snapfern and Lightstar

Platonic Love: Snapfern, Lightgale, Thunderisle, Brackenshade, Lightstar, Tornrun, Jellyfishspeckle

Admiration: Lightgale

Security: Snapfern, Brackenshade

Reliance: Brackenshade

Detailed Biography

Gannet was born as a rogue but doesn’t remember much from her early life, though they’re unsure if that’s because of how young she was of if she had unknowingly blocked the traumatic memories out. When Gannet was only a few months old, her mother died, leaving her all alone. She nearly died of starvation before she was found and rescued by an older rogue named Mint. Mint took her in and from then on raised them as if she was her own kit. Throughout Gannet’s life, Mint trained them to survive just as she had under the philosophy that “no other cats matter, protect yourself and only yourself.” 

Years later, after Gannet had already grown up, the two continued to live together for protection. Though they were better off together, things still weren’t perfect and winters were always harsh. During one winter they discovered the clan cats and decided to stick around for protection and easier food. As time passed they relalized that there was a clear leader for each of the four clans except for one, SplashClan. Mint and Gannet decided to step up, deciding to permanently join the clans as Mintshade and Gannettalon in hopes that they could take leadership of SplashClan themselves. Eventually, Mintshade’s age got the better of her and she stepped down to become an elder, advising Gannettalon from the side in order to have the best chance to become leader.

Eventually, the BloodClan-affiliated rogues were chased out and with Rootmask’s dying words he chose the new leaders of the four clans; Tawnystar of DeadClan, Curlstar of HeatherClan, Amberstar of HazeClan, and Gannetstar of SplashClan. Gannetstar went on to receive her nine lives, one of which being from Mintshade herself for “leadership through the darkest times.” They later elected Brackenshade as their deputy as he was a young but fierce and abrasive cat who would grant her the approval of her clanmates. He was also picked with a darker motive in mind, at the time he was the youngest warrior in the clan and clearly respected Gannetstar's judgement and authority as leader, meaning he wouldn't oppose her. Desperate for more approval from their clanmates, Gannetstar gave themselves an apprentice so she could appear as a responsible, rule-following leader. Sagepaw was the apprentice she chose but they didn’t do much work in training him aside from what was required of her due to her lack of care and how overwhelmed they were as leader initially. 

Gannetstar had only gotten where she was because of Mintshade’s guidance and without her, they felt as though they had no idea what they were doing. Many times they tried to reach out to StarClan to talk to Mintshade but she was cut off from StarClan due to them disaproving of her as leader. Gannetstar questioned her ability to lead the clan and needed something to prove her worth not only to her clanmates, but to herself. This eventually came in the long-running conflict between SplashClan and HazeClan. It started out small, as nothing more than a prey and border dispute but Amberstar’s anger towards the situation frustrated Gannetstar. She couldn’t understand the HazeClan leader’s anger and she felt the urge to take the situation into their own paws, killing Amberstar herself. Of course, this never ended up happening as she was too desperate to prove herself and gain the approval of her clan.

Thunderisle and her own apprentice, Sagepeak were made warriors however later this same month he died while out on patrol and ultimately Gannetstar never realized how much he wanted her to notice him. It was during this time when they met Striker, a rogue who had belonged to one of the BloodClan-affiliated rogue groups that had been occupying the clan territories before. She fell in love with Striker and the two began to secretly meet at SplashClan’s border. As time passed between them however, Gannetstar grew continuously bored of Striker as she found something more entertaining. In their dreams, Gannetstar began to visit the dark forest and would continue to train there throughout her life. 

In the end, Gannetstar found out they were expecting kits and cut off her relationship with Striker, abandoning him and telling him to never come back. Though she was excited to have kits, they didn’t like the idea of having to care for them for very long, hoping she could apprentice them at four months instead of six. Thankfully though, Brackenshade told her not to do that. Eventually, Gannetstar’s three kits were born, Tornkit, Icykit, and Jellyfishkit. She loved her kits but it was clear from the beginning that they were going to pick favorites. She spent more time with Jellyfishkit than the others and this did not go unnoticed by Tornkit and Icykit. 

Eventually, Gannetstar’s kits are apprenticed and she was able to leave the nursery but they were back to feeling terrible about leadership. She had been trained her entire life to only care about herself, to only put effort into making sure that she survives, and now she was alone in leading an entire clan of cats. She made her kits warriors way earlier than she should have and only two months later she learned terrible news. One day, her daughter, Jellyfishspeckle went on patrol but didn’t return. Jellyfishspeckle had been taken away by twolegs. Gannetstar, after having already been under a lot of stress, broke down as a result of their daughter being taken away. They encouraged fights on border patrols and even began picking fights with cats from her own clan. Lightspots at one point stepped up to confront her about this and she took to physically punishing him with the help of Snapfern, a cat who’s allegiance to not only SplashClan, but herself, she was questioning. The three cats were left injured by the fight but in the end Gannetstar felt as though they could trust Snapfern more. 

Gannetstar began to feel as if they were going crazy and she began to feel numb with pain, both from the loss of Jellyfishspeckle and her tail injury. Over the next few months she failed to recover, struggling to fight off the infection in their wound and this only worstened when her other daughter, Icywhisker, died as well. Though she recovered from her injury shortly afterward, she could harldy react to her daughter’s death due to her numbness. Months later, Gannetstar even repeated what she had done to Lightspots to Clovefreckle after he similarly spoke out against them, though thankfully it wasn’t as harsh. Gannetstar’s trust in their clanmates began to dwindle and she soon sought out Snapfern to spy on the cats of SplashClan for her. Eventually, her trust in Snapfern became so great that she confessed to Snapfern about their own romantic feelings towards her. Snapfern agreed, sharing Gannetstar’s feelings and the two became mates. 

Over the next few months, things between SplashClan and HazeClan became worse and worse and Gannetstar even began to ask the other clans to form an alliance but in the end, neither HeatherClan or DeadClan were willing to help. As tensions rose things only became worse for Gannetstar with the death of her son, Tornrun. Though she didn’t play favorites with Tornrun, preferring Jellyfishspeckle, Tornrun had been the only one of her kits that still remained in SplashClan. It was only a few months after this when finally, Jellyfishspeckle returned to SplashClan. Though Gannetstar should’ve been happy, they weren’t the same cat they were when Jellyfishspeckle had been taken away and apart of them began to blame their daughter for abandoning their clan in a time of need and felt as though she was cursed, somehow causing the deaths of Icywhisker and Tornrun just as she left the clan and returned. The pain of Tornrun’s death and Jellyfishspeckle’s return finally caused Gannetstar to break and officially declare war on HazeClan. The war lasted seven months and four cats died however SplashClan was the clear loser of the war. Ever since Gannetstar had been leader, they had been searching for the perfect opportunity to prove her worth as leader and in the end they failed, they failed terribly. 

During the war, Gannetstar decided to distract themselves by taking on their second apprentice, choosing the kit, Quietpaw for that position. Gannetstar was a bit more involved with Quietpaw’s training than she was with Sagepeak's since this time she had willingly taken him as an apprentice, but things ended up just as badly. Under Gannetstar’s training, Quietpaw was trained to exhaustion every single day and was hardly recognizable as his former self not long after becoming an apprentice. Similarly to Sagepeak, Quietpaw wanted to make Gannetstar proud of him and he would do anything to make that happen. At one point after the war had ended, a bunch of HazeClan apprentices began to bully Quietpaw from across the border. She encouraged Quietpaw to fight back, even if he was clearly outnumbered. Quietpaw made it out of this encounter, but was mildly hurt and Gannetstar praised him for this. Quietpaw’s apprenticeship came to a sudden end in leafbare. He was so painfully hungry from there being a lack of prey that he attemted to calm his hunger by eating some red berries he found, these ended up being death berries. Though Quietpaw died, Gannetstar didn’t seem to care much. 

Before Quietpaw had died, her and Snapfern’s son, Patchoulitkit was born. When Gannetstar wasn’t too busy training Quietpaw, they would spend time with Snapfern as she was the only one who they felt could bring them comfort. As a result, Patchoulikit didn’t get to spend a lot of time with his parents and began to look up to and chase after Gannetstar for their attention. Gannetstar decided to mentor their son herself. Though the clan spoke out against this, Gannetstar didn’t care. They spent the most time and care training Patchoulipaw compared to Sagepeak and Quietpaw, influencing him to use violence over words and to make impulsive decisions. Just like she did with her previous kits, she made him a warrior early, granting him the name Patchouliprickle. He took after Gannetstar’s bloodthirsty nature but died too quick to acomplish anything. 

Patchouliprickle, Snapfern, and many other SplashClan cats disappeared into the night and wound up in StarClan, their cause of death unknown. Gannetstar was left devistated and broken by their loss. Only three months after this, Gannetstar lost her very first life to an injury they had recieved months prior from a dog attack. Shortly after, she decided to move on from Snapfern but in the end they never took another mate. Throughout the rest of their life, Gannetstar seemed to become more and more lost in their own mind and their previously shown agitation and aggression towards others, even in their own clan, grew and grew. She later lost her second life to a venomous snake bite before slowly beginning to lose her remaining seven lives to old age throughout the 93rd month of SplashClan’s existence. As they lay dying, Gannetstar laughed in her deputy, Lightspot’s face and told him-

“Hah! I’m glad you of all cats are becoming the next leader. There isn’t another fool alive who i’d be more willing to see cursed with the role of leader.”

Gannetstar, having already entered the Dark Forest in their life, was brought there in death and realized that she would’ve been able to influence the cats below. She began to scheme and soon figured out her plan. If they turned the young cats against the clans, she could turn them to her side, destroying SplashClan in the process and proving that all along the idea of ‘clans’ were cursed to fail. Ever since their death, they’ve reached out to many of SplashClan’s younger cats and brought them to train in the Dark Forest, some even becoming loyal to her already.

Fun Facts

Gannetflight was named after Gannetstar by her mother, Emberfreckle who's one of the most involved and loyal dark forest trainees.

Gannetstar's original in-game warrior name was Gannethorse but this was changed to Gannettalon later on since it made more sense and wasn't as goofy

Their favorite food is frog but they also liked rabbit and shrews

Their character song is Ain’t It Fun by Paramore

Gannetstar’s voice claim is Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil: Village (voiced by Maggie Robertson)

Dark Forest Events

The first cat Gannetstar influenced to begin training in the dark forest as Sparkstep. They contacted him in his dream only a month after she had died.

Gannetstar feels regret for some of their actions, though it's unclear which ones

Gannetstar considered walking in Old Deuteronomyplume's dreams but decided against it, realizing they wouldn't have accepted her proposal to train

From the dark forest, Gannetstar never contacted Lightstar but always kept an eye on him, smiling slyly how much he likely hated being leader at such an old age and how it was herself who put him there

They considered bringing Brackenshade's son, Brightsnap into the dark forest but decided against it, knowing Brackenshade had likely taught him too many negative things about Gannetstar to want to accept

Gannetstar indirectly killed Brightsnap, Rippletuft, Littlebat, and Sardinefuzz. She had instructed some of the HeatherClan dark forest trainnes to attack them on patrol in order to specifically kill Sardinefuzz, the current deputy of SplashClan so Emberfreckle, a prominent dark forest trainee could potentially be chosen as his replacement.

Gannetstar feels distain and malice towards Hailtorrent, a high ranking dark forest trainee from SplashClan becuase they believes that he has the capability to turn against her and completely destroy her plans

Throughout Snailshell's apprenticeship, Gannetstar continued to whisper in his ear as they couldn't fully walk in his dreams due to his connection to StarClan. In the end thankfully, he was able to block Gannetstar out.

Mudember, Emberfreckle's son was one of the cats Gannetstar had an eye on birth but in the end it's likely she was never able to contact him due to his stronger than average connection to StarClan.

Gannetstar had their eyes on Brackenshade's son, Laurelstep from kithood but it's unclear if he was ever reached out to

#gannetstar #splashclan #splashclan bio #clangen #clan generator #warriors #warrior cats #digital art #artwork #character design #gannettalon

[shealwaysreads]

This is gonna be really random but I am so delighted that you have 30s in your bio. I'm 23 and at that point in my life where I'm entering adulthood and I've thought of my involvement in fandom and how that would change as I journeyed further into adulthood. And most of the time, especially on new platforms like tiktok, it's mostly younger people who are making fan content so it's amazing to see people actively enjoy fandom content as they become full adults. It's very freeing 💜

This was such a lovely ask to receive, I’m so touched and so glad that you reached out! You’ve tapped into a subject I have a Lot of Feelings about, so forgive the incoming ramble ❤️

I have had friends of all ages in fandom over the years, and those friendships have been more important than perhaps I gave them credit for at the time. I’ve been fandom-ing since I was about 14 and its been a hobby that’s brought me huge joy and allowed me to get to know so many lovely humans. They’ve modelled ways of living that I didn’t know about, have generously shared their time and knowledge and expertise and experience, and have been examples of preserving one’s joy amidst the reality of growing up and of living in an adult landscape that can become barren if you don’t intentionally enshrine what’s important to you. (The actual you, the one that lives in your heart.)

The narrative of ‘you’ll grow out of this’ or of setting aside your pleasures as you become an Adult™️ is incredibly pervasive and incredibly damaging. There is even more pressure on young women in particular, and I’ve seen so many instances of ‘oh my god you’re 30 why are you reading fanfic, shouldn’t you be married/mothering/doing your taxes?’ 

It’s easy to get tricked into believing these social strictures are rules that really mean something, but reducing yourself to something prescribed by….who, exactly? (The people and structures that are interested in keeping us small, and bored, and tired, and empty-hearted, and too worn out to argue when they want to take more of our money and eat into more of our precious time here on this precious planet with all of these precious people) It’s a losing game! How much do you think you would need to give up to please the anonymous Life Police who are apparently out to make sure we’re all living the most stripped-back life we can?

If something makes you happy, if it gives you pleasure or comfort or inspiration, then it has a meaningful place in your life. This isn’t hedonism, it is a fundamental basis for a life worth living. 

Fandom is fundamentally about fun—it’s a small word for a big phenomenon, full of community, and friendship, and connection. It’s a folk-space where there is room for everyone, where you can explore the subversive and the comforting all in one blog. It’s where all of us can contribute—making art of all kinds, celebrating each other, inspiring each other, debating each other, stepping out of our daily lives to indulge in the essential, essential, work of imagination and creativity and enjoyment.

Play doesn’t stop being important when you stop being a child, or a teen. We’re human: telling tales and making marks, and sitting together around the fire enjoying it all is in our DNA. Fandom is just another circle of humans joining together to listen to stories and be together.

So. Enjoy being 23, but don’t fear 33, or 53, or 73!

You’ll be yourself; wiser and older, and more well-lived, but you’ll still be yourself. You’ll still laugh, with love, at your childhood and teenage embarrassing moments.

You’ll still remember when that actor did that movie, in that outfit.

You’ll have playlists full of music that brings back summers and parties and heartbreaks, and you’ll still know every lyric of all of those songs.

You’ll have new hobbies, and you’ll have your old hobbies, and maybe you’ll leave them for years at a time but you’ll come back to them unexpectedly and joyfully.

You don’t have to give anything up, not if it still makes you happy!

❤️

#bella talks #the fandom life

[communistchilchuck]

Sohaib reached out to me to help share his father's fundraiser. His father Bahaa, a Palestinian architect, is urgently raising money to help evacuate he and his displaced family from Gaza to Egypt and receive medical treatment. He has only made kr1,040 SEK out of his kr1,630,000 goal so far, and the IOF's planned invasion of Rafah is imminent. Please share and donate, and if you can't donate, please still share!

Sohaib's Twitter/X account: @sohaibjazzar

From Bahaa's GFM:

please note

conversion rate is (100 USD = 1087 SEK)

Dear compassionate supporters,

I extend my heartfelt plea to you, driven by the urgency of the dire situation my family faces in the chaos of Gaza, a war-torn region. I am Bahaa Aljazzar, an Architect and university lecturer with more than 23 years of experience, I come to you seeking your generous support to evacuate my beloved 21 family members from the hazardous conditions we currently endure in Gaza and relocate us to safety in Egypt.

I tell my story as one of thousands of stories in the Gaza Strip. I am 47 years old. I support a family consisting of 10 members, me, my wife, six sons, and two daughters. I hope God protects them for me. I also support my father's family, who is 73 years old, and my mother and two sisters. May God protect us all in the light of a fierce war. A person is not the guarantor of his life or the life of his family, especially since my parents and I suffered from chronic diseases (diabetes and high blood pressure) that have affected our health. In the past few days during this war, I suffered a stroke that led to an obstruction in my movement on the right side of my body. I seek to find a speedy recovery.

Meet my remarkable family:

Me(47 years): A creative architect, university lecturer with over 23 years of experience, and the breadwinner of this family.

Eman(35 years): A loving, ambitious, and struggling mother and wife who was the reason for most of my successes.

Sohaib(22 years): My eldest son is ambitious and has big dreams in the world of software development, as the war prevented him from continuing his academic career in his final year of Bachelor of Application Development.

Basmala(19 years): She is diligent and persistent, as she completed her high school studies last year with impressive distinction, with a grade point average of 96.4%, but the occupation soon prevented her from achieving her dream of studying human medicine.

AbdulAziz(17 years), Deema(14 years), Moath(12 years), Anas(10 years), Kinan(8 years), and Fathi(6 years): The rest of my children were attending their schools, but since the beginning of this year and in light of this cruel war, their hope has been cut off and their dream of completing their studies has become almost impossible.

My father's family:

Dad(73 years): A civil engineer who implemented many reconstruction projects and worked with many local and international institutions.

Mom(66 years): Amazing teacher.

My Sister Najwa(32 years): She holds a master's degree in the fundamentals of religion.

My Sister Maha(31): Arabic language school.

I would like to draw attention to my sister Najla (46 years), who is displaced with us. Her husband was martyred and she lost her home in Gaza City. She has a son whom she seeks to raise, Obaida (19 years). He finished high school last year, but the war also prevented him from studying at university, she also has a daughter Afnan (26 years), who is enrolled in studying for a master’s degree in laboratory analysis, but the war stood in the way of all ambitions.

I also want to talk about my brother Muhammad (35 years), who is younger than me and supports a family of 4 people, his wife Hanaa (30 years), and his two daughters, Lana (6 years) and Raneem (3 years). It is difficult for him to fully support them due to the physical and psychological pressures of war, as he worked before the war. Graphic designer and technology educator.

As I write to you, the Israeli army’s planned invasion of Rafah grows ever closer. Asking for help is not easy, but we are left with no choice if we want to survive. As we strive to rebuild our broken lives, we are very grateful for any help you can give. Thank you for your kindness and generosity in our time of need.

Urgent case:

I suffered a stroke several times, the last of which was several days ago during the war when there were no medical services or hospitals, which made doctors unable to diagnose my condition accurately because there was no CT scan and the a lack of appropriate treatment.

And also my parents who need health care.

Financial Details:

Travel company (YA HALH) costs $5,000 for people over 18.

And $2,500 for people under the age of 18.

A total of $87,500 to evacuate the Aljazzar family from Gaza to Egypt.

And $5,000 to cover the expenses of treating Bahaa and his parents who suffer from chronic diseases (diabetes and blood pressure).

And an additional $30,000 to cover the cost of living and basic family needs.

Thank you for your kindness during this challenging time. Your support is crucial in this humanitarian endeavor.

any additional donations will go for their survival in Egypt and their return when the war ends.

Gratefully,

Bahaa

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #mutual aid

[myreadingrealm]

List

100 Years Old Top Chef - 24

A Common Story of a Lady's New Life - 106 [END]

A Condition Called Love - 45

A Disaster-Class Hero Has Returned - 19

A Transmigrator’s Privilege - 44

A Villain Is a Good Match for a Tyrant - 95 (Side Story 9) [END]

A Way To Protect The Lovable You - 51

Academy’s Undercover Professor - 56

Actually, I Was The Real One - 81

After Märchen - 2

Agatha - 4

Am I the Daughter? - 16

Angelic Lady - 25

Another Typical Fantasy Romance - 10

Arashi's Hug Pillow - 7

Baby Tyrant - 7

Becoming the Villain’s Family - 12

Beware of the Villainess - 77

BJ Alex - 89 (Side Story 5) [END]

Blue Lock - 23

Boundless Necromancer - 9

Brutal : Confessions of a Homicide Investigator - 19

Bunny and Her Boys - 45

Call Me The Devil - 29

Chronicles of the Demon Faction - 8

Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - 44

Cinderella Wasn't Me - 29

Cross-Dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie - 4

Debut or Die - 60

Depths of Malice - 73

Devil Returns To School Days - 53

Douse, Koishite Shimaunda - 5

Dream to Freedom - 6

Drug-Eating Genius Mage - 1

Eleceed - 289

Even Though I’m the Villainess, I’ll Become the Heroine! - 20

Everybody Loves the Villainess - 13

Existence - 13

Extras Don’t Want to be Overly Obsessed - 6

Father, I Don't Want to Get Married! - 113

Fold All The Ruin Flags In The Remaining Day - 3.1

For My Abandoned Love - 62

Fukushuu O Koinegau Saikyou Yuusha Wa, Yami No Chikara De Senmetsu Musou Suru - 37

Glotoneria - 4

God Of Blackfield - 9

Guard Pass - 10

Happy Ending for the Time-Limited Villainess - 36

Hatsukoi Maze - 16

Heart Throbbing Conqueror - 24

Heavenly Sword’s Grand Saga - 29

Helmut: The Forsaken Child - 1

Hero has Returned - 5

Honey, I’m Going On a Strike - 100

How to Be a Dark Hero’s Daughter - 20

How to Get My Husband on My Side - 14

How to Live as an Illegal Healer - 14

How to Reject My Obsessive Ex-Husband - 14

How to Survive as a Maid in a Horror Game - 10

I Abandoned My Engagement Because of my Tragic Sister, But For Some Reason I Became Entangled With A Prince Who Has A Strong Sense Of Justice - 3

I am the Precious Daughter of the Greatest Villain in the Fantasy World - 87

I Became the Despised Granddaughter of the Murim Clan - 44

I Became the Hero’s Mom - 89

I Became the Mother of Bloody's Male Lead - 20

I Became the Villain’s Mother - 60

I Became the Wife of the Male Lead - 56

I Became the Wife of the Monstrous Crown Prince - 60

I Became the Younger Sister of a Regretful Obsessive Male Lead - 30

I Became the Youngest Member of Top Idol - 7

I Didn't Mean To Seduce The Male Lead - 23

I Don't Love You Anymore - 33

I Don’t Want To Be Duke’s Adopted Daughter-in-law - 33

I Failed to Divorce My Husband - 52 (bagian ngobrol ama crown prince & istrinya)

I Fell Into the Arm of Crazy Villain - 8

I Found a Husband When I Picked Up the Male Lead - 1

I Have No Health - 8

I Need Someone To Stop My Older Brothers - 3

I Obtained a Mythic Item - 8

I Raised a Black Dragon - 12

I Raised an Obsessive Servant - 14

I Raised My Childhood Friend as a Tyrant - 14

I Reincarnated as the Crazed Heir - 23

I Reincarnated as the Little Sister of a Death Game Manga's Murder Mastermind and Failed - 7

I Tamed The Crazy Marquis - 4

I Tamed The Tyrant and Ran Away - 43

I Was Reincarnated as a Baby Fox God - 12

I'll Be the Matriarch In This Life - 112

I’ll Be the Warrior’s Mother - 39

I'll Become a Villainess That Will Go Down in History - The More of a Villainess I Become, the More the Prince Will Dote on Me - 9

I’ll Divorce My Tyrant Husband - 27

I'll Do That Marriage - 56

I'll Just Live on as a Villainess - 16

I'll Protect the 2nd ML’s Love - 1

I'll Raise You Well in This Life, Your Majesty! - 41

I'm Being Raised By Villains - 42

I'm Dead, But The Hero Went Crazy - 7

I'm Engaged to an Obsessive Male Lead - 29

I'm In Trouble Because the Emperor Thinks I'm Seriously Sick - 22

I'm Not That Kind of Talent - 26

I’m Only a Stepmother, But My Daughter is Just So Cute! - 61

I've Become A True Villainess - 42

If You Lay A Hand On My Brother, You're All Dead - 2

If You Save An Immoral Beast - 18

In This Life, I Will Live as a Supporting Role - 1

Into The Light Once Again - 24

Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - 39

Isn’t the Villainess’s Punishment to Enter Into a Political Marriage With an Autocrat Too Lenient? - 5

It Looks Like I’ve Fallen into the World of a Reverse Harem Game - 119

It's a Deadline, So I'm Getting Married - 2

It's Useless to Hang On - 16

Jinsei 2-Shuume wa Yandere Kareshi wo Amayakashite Happy End ni Narimasu!! - 3

JK and The Foundling - 17 [End]

Juvenile Offender - 30

Kangoku Jikken - 43

Kawaii Hito - 9

Kill The Villainess - 76

Killer Peter - 23

King of Dramas - 37

Lady Isabella's Path To Happiness - 9

Leveling My Husband To The Max - 16

Leveling With the Gods - 96

Like A Wind On A Dry Branch - 3

Lillian of Turin - 38

Limit Breaker - 18

Limited Extra Time - 40

Living as the Villain’s Stepmother - 14

Lookism - 451

Mairimashita, Senpai - 40 [END]

Male Lead, I'll Respect Your Taste - 34

Martial God Regressed to Level 2 - 1

Maxed Out Leveling - 4

Medical Return - 20

Megane, Tokidoki, Yankee-kun - 8 [END]

Mercenary Enrollment - 174

Movies Are Real - 34

My Angelic Husband is Actually a Devil in Disguise - 19

My Cute Beast! - 101 [END]

My Daughter is the Final Boss - 14

My In Laws are Obsessed with Me - 45

My Path to Killing God in Otherworld - 1

My Secretly Hot Husband - 85

My Sister Picked Up The Male Lead - 41

My Three Tyrant Brothers - 32 (Baca ½)

Noblesse - 156

Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint - 171

Ooh La La - 41 [End]

Otome Game no Hametsu Flag shika Nai Akuyaku Reijou ni Tensei shiteshimatta - 35

Please Don’t Come To The Villainess’ Stationery Store! - 58

Please Kill My Husband - 24

Please Marry Me Again, Husband! - 64

Predatory Marriage - 9

Psycho Revenge - 24

Raou-kun Notices Me - 8

Reborn as the Enemy Prince - 31

Reborn Rich - 84

Record of Ragnarok - 27.2

Regressor Instruction Manual - 10

Reincarnated As Duke's Blind Daughter - 1

Reincarnation of the Suicidal Battle God - 44

Resetting Lady - 7

Return of the Bloodthirsty Police - 25

Return of the Flowery Mountain Sect - 113

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound - 26

Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts - 17

Sakura wa Watashi wo Sukisugiru - 14

Sasuke Retsuden - 4

Second Life of the Trash Princess - 31

Second Life on the Red Carpet - 5

Second Life Ranker - 96

Secret Alliance - 45 [END]

Senpai, You're Cute - 1.4

Seoul Station Druid - 7

Solo Max-Level Newbie - 16

Soloist of the Prison - 7

Spy x Family - 59

SSS-Class Suicide Hunter - 80

Stairway of Time - 27

Steel-Eating Player - 10

Superhuman Battlefield - 6

Surely a Happy Ending - 29

Sweet & Tart Boyfriend - 28

Swordmaster’s Youngest Son - 45

Tamon-kun Ima Docchi?! - 5

Textbook of Revenge - 8

The 100th Regression Of The Max-Level Player - 32

The Academy’s Genius Swordman - 7

The Baby Concubine Wants to Live Quietly - 54

The Baby Land Lord Is Retiring - 13

The Beast Tamed by the Villainess - 20

The Best Is Saved for Last - 11

The Broken Ring : This Marriage Will Fail Anyway - 10

The Bully In Charge - 9

The Challenger - 5 (Baru baca ½)

The Condemned Villainess Goes Back in Time and Aims to Become the Ultimate Villain - 4

The Constellation that Returned from Hell - 12

The Constellations Are My Disciples - 48

The Crown Prince That Sells Medicine - 21

The Dark Mage’s Return to Enlistment - 21

The Dark Magician Transmigrates After 66666 Years - 77

The Duchess with an Empty Soul - 102

The Duchess’ 50 Tea Recipes - 143 [End]

The Emperor Reverses Time - 14

The Emperor’s Sword - 9

The Empress Lipstick - 9

The Evil Lady's Hero - 76

The Flower Dance And The Wind Sing - 42

The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live a Normal Life - 110

The Ichinose Family's Deadly Sins - 7

The Invicible Princess Is Bored Again Today - 14

The Lady And The Beast - 113

The Lady I Served Became a Master - 56

The Lady Wants To Rest - 34

The Live - 19

The More You Chew, The Sweeter It Gets - 24 [END]

The Most Notorious "Talker" Runs the World's Greatest Clan - 11

The Novel’s Extra - 37

The Office Blind Date - 106

The Peach of June - 25

The Poor Lady’s Impulsive Proposal Somehow Leads to Getting Locked Up by the Infatuated Duke - 5

The Precious Sister Of The Villainous Grand Duke - 32

The Princess Imprints A Traitor - 58

The Princess is Evil - 6

The Princess Pretends to Be Crazy - 7

The Princess's Double Life - 45

The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - 21

The Reincarnated Villainess Doesn’t Want Revenge - 12

The S-Classes That I Raised - 82

The Silent Daughter of a Duke and the Cold Emperor : The Child I Found in My Past Life Became the Emperor - 7

The Springtime of My Life Began with You - 2

The Story of a Guy Who Fell in Love with His Friend's Sister - 13

The Story Of My Sister’s Annoying Friend - 4

The Strongest Characters in the World are Obsessed With Me - 68

The Terminally Ill Young Master of the Baek Clan - 9

The Third Ending - 63

The Top Dungeon Farmer / Solo Farming in the Tower - 29

The Tyrant's Comfort Doll - 60

The Tyrant’s Only Perfumer - 15

The Tyrant Wants to Be Good -

The Villain’s Aesthetics - 4

The Villainess is a Marionette - 54

The Villainess Is Adored by the Crown Prince of the Neighboring Kingdom - 24

The Villainess is Changing Her Role to a BroCon - 2.4

The Villainess Needs A Tyrant - 19

The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass - 104 (Side Story 1)

The Villainess Wants To Die Gracefully - 18

The Villainess Wants To Enjoy A Carefree Married Life In A Former Enemy Country In Her Seventh Loop! - 8

The Villainess Wears an Idiot’s Mask - 6

The Villainess Who Traveled Back in Time Inexplicably Lost Her Magic, So She Went into Seclusion - 5

The Way That Knight Lives As a Lady - 26

The Way to Protect the Female Lead's Older Brother - 49

The World After The Fall - 14

The World’s Best Engineer - 104

The Younger Male Lead Fell for Me before the Destruction - 5

There Were Times When I Wished You Were Dead - 10

There's No Such Thing As A Villainess Route? Not In My Book! - 3

This Girl is a Little Wild - 57

This Life Starts as a Child Actor - 30

This Witch of Mine - Epilogue 4 [END]

To Not Die - 12

To Say The Least, This is Love - 11

Today the Villainess Has Fun Again - 10

Tomodachi Game - 52 (Baca ½)

Tonari no Otona-kun - 11

Trapped in a Webnovel as a Good-for-Nothing - 52

Trash of the Count’s Family - 95

True Education - 111

Under The Oak Tree - 64

Underworld Restaurant - 20

Unmei no Hito ni Deau Hanashi - 6.1

Untouchable Lady - 49

Villain To Kill - 54

Villain To The Rescue : Reborn To Change Her Fiance's Fate! - 13

Warrior High School - 7

We're Getting a Divorce - Oneshot

Weak Hero - 257

What It Means to Be You - 24

When Beauty Meets Beasts - 50

When I Faked Amnesia to Break off My Engagement, My Fiancé Casually Told Me a Ridiculous Lie - "You Were in Love With Me Before You Lost Your Memory" - 1

When The Count's illegitimate Daughter Gets Married - 8

When The Villainess Loves - 58

When You’re Targeted by the Bully - 76

Who Stole The Empress - 12

Why She Lives as a Villainess - 9

With My Body Got Taken Over By Someone, I've Become A Villainess For Ten Years, And The Knight Who Broke Off Our Engagement And Told Me He Doesn't Want To See My Face Is Clinging On Me Today! - 1.6

Yamaguchi-kun wa Warukunai - 19

Youngest Princess - 131

Your Eternal Lies - 34

Your Majesty, the Voice of Your Heart Is Leaking! - 6

Your Talent Is Mine - 2

[froody]

My dad gets upset sometimes because he isn’t his mother’s favorite child and he has never been, it’s always been my uncle who he looks down on. Dad ‘does more for [gandma]’ like being in charge of her finances and estate planning. Fundamentally he is a dutiful son but the thing is my uncle is actually a loving son and my father isn’t. My father goes out of his way to belittle, needle and hurt her. One example that comes to mind is the fact my grandmother struggled with anorexia for much of her life, from the 60s to the late 90s. Now she is 73 years old and disabled and sick and she has gained weight she cannot lose, frankly, losing the weight would be more detrimental to her physical health. But my super fatphobic dad makes sure to bring up her weight at least once every time they see each other.

My dad is inattentive to her wants, her needs, her thoughts, her physical and mental state. She has schizoeffective disorder. She’s been mentally ill my entire life. It’s not her fault but he gets so frustrated with her when she gets confused or experiences delusions.

Essentially, my uncle isn’t a raging misogynist and he’s a sweet caring guy. He provides a lot of mental and emotional support and attention that she needs that my dad has never supplied. And my dad wonders why he isn’t the favorite.

#another weird toxic dynamic playing out in my fucked up weord family #I’m probably going to delete this but I was thinking about it #it makes me so upset #I always try to help her and love her and respect her #I was left alone with her a lot as a child #so I understand her illness a little better #she had dad when she was only 19 and he was a teen before her symptoms intensified #so he didn’t live with it very long

[stromuprisahat]

Hardly had one child departed the Red Keep than another arrived, however, for it appeared that the Mother Above was not yet done blessing Alysanne Targaryen. In 73 AC, she gave birth to her eleventh child, a son named Gaemon, in honor of Gaemon the Glorious, the greatest of the Targaryen lords who had ruled on Dragonstone before the Conquest. This time, however, the child came early, after a long and difficult labor that exhausted the queen, and made her maesters fear for her life. Gaemon was a scrawny thing as well, barely half the size his brother Vaegon had been at birth ten years earlier. The queen eventually recovered, though sad to say the child did not. Prince Gaemon died a few days into the new year, not quite three moons old.

As ever, the queen took the loss of a child hard, questioning whether or not it had been through some fault of her own that Prince Gaemon had failed.

...

The joy was therefore not entirely unalloyed when Her Grace was found to be pregnant once again. Prince Valerion was born in 77 AC, after another troubled labor that saw Alysanne confined to her bed for half a year. Like his brother Gaemon four years earlier, he was a small and sickly babe, and never thrived. Half a dozen wet nurses came and went to no avail. In 78 AC, Valerion died, a fortnight short of his first nameday. The queen took his passing with resignation. “I am forty-two years old,” she told the king. “You must be content with the children I have given you. I am more suited to be a grandmother than a mother now, I fear.”

King Jaehaerys did not share her certainty. “Our mother, Queen Alyssa, was forty-six when she gave birth to Jocelyn,” he pointed out to Grand Maester Elysar. “The gods may not be done with us.”

He was not wrong. The very next year, the Grand Maester informed Queen Alysanne that she was once more with child, to her surprise and dismay. Princess Gael was born in 80 AC, when the queen was forty-four. Called “the Winter Child” for the season of her birth (and because the queen was in the winter of her childbearing years, some said), she was small, pale, and frail, but Grand Maester Elysar was determined that she would not suffer the fate of her brothers Gaemon and Valerian. Nor did she. Assisted by Septa Lyra, who watched over the babe night and day, Elysar nursed the princess through a difficult first year, until finally it seemed as if she might survive. When she reached her first nameday, still healthy if not strong, Queen Alysanne thanked the gods.

Fire and Blood (George R. R. Martin)

“Our mother, Queen Alyssa, was forty-six when she gave birth to Jocelyn...” Yeah, and died during the birth. This is the same man, who dragged Rogar into the room to face what he caused. Character development? No! Character regression!

“The gods may not be done with us.” Gods? More like “I’m not done with her.”, you disgusting misogynist swine! “Love” my ass! Alysanne’s just a piece of meat for him. Warm cunt to stick his dick into to produce more pureborn Targs!

“He was not wrong. The very next year, the Grand Maester informed Queen Alysanne that she was once more with child, to her surprise and dismay.” King Jaehaerys and his beloved Queen Alysanne?! More like King Jaehaerys and his beloved Baby factory.

#ASoIaF #Fire & Blood #valyrianscrolls #ch: The Long Reign Jaehaerys and Alysanne: Policy Progeny and Pain #Alysanne Targaryen #Jaehaerys I Targaryen #Prince Gaemon Targaryen #Valerion Targaryen #Gael Targaryen #GRRM #books #quotes #V

[thekillingvote]

The Multi-Voters, the High Rollers

Among those voting for Robin to live or die, some were willing to pay more money to vote more times. These are some of their stories.

Bob Ingersoll, assistant public defender, future column writer for legal issues in superhero stories, as quoted by the New York Times:

''I voted 10 times to save Robin, and I've got the $5 phone bill to prove it,'' said Robert Ingersoll, a 36-year-old assistant public defender in Cleveland. ''If I had known the margin would be only 72 votes, I would have voted 73 more times.'' While conceding that Robin's character lacked definition, Mr. Ingersoll called his violent death gratuitous, since there were other ways to banish the Boy Wonder, like sending him to live in Addis Ababa with his long-lost mother, Dr. Sheila Haywood. ''For the first time in my life,'' Mr. Ingersoll added, ''I'm ashamed to be a comics fan.''

Jerry Smith of Kentucky, who sold his Mercedes-Benz to afford more votes:

Unverified legend of the California autodialer, as told by editor Dennis O'Neil on occasion:

It turns out, if what I heard is true, that a lawyer programmed his Macintosh to dial the killing number every few minutes. It was only 85 votes out of over 10,000 and that may have made the difference. I have never been able to verify that story but it was a squeaker any way you look at it.

I heard it was a lawyer who was using a MacIntosh and lived in California – I obviously don’t have hard information on this, but I heard someone out there programmed his computer to dial it every couple of minutes, and since there was only about 65* votes that made the difference, if that story is true, that guy, that guy killed Jason Todd!

Savas Abadsidis, in his article "Did the Idea to Kill Robin Stem from the HIV Epidemic?" for Plus magazine:

This new Robin was a street kid named Jason Todd, who Batman discovered when he caught the kid stealing a tire off the Batmobile. Todd was petulant, moody, and prone to outbursts of violence. I was 12 at the time and I loved him. [...] I personally voted for him to live 100 times, and my mom flipped when she saw the phone bill.

John Britt of Miami, who definitely isn't a satanist:

>Vote here (free of charge).<

#Jason Todd #DC Robin #DC Comics #Batman comics #thekillingvote

[muzaktomyears]

Recollections of Liverpool School of Art 1957 - Pat Jourdan

We all gathered at the front hall that September morning and John Lennon, Tony Carricker and Jeff Mohammed were sitting together on the marble steps. John and Terry were wearing their old school blazers with the pocket-badge removed, while Jeff, already about 25 years old, was wearing a speckled tweed jacket. The office window had the register for us to sign, and a small selection of art materials to buy.

We were never taught how to draw, how to create or handle a line, construct shapes via pencil, pen and ink or charcoal or the dreaded Conte crayon which we bought every Monday from the office by the front door. Two colours of Conte - black or terra cotta. Everyone preferred the terra cotta as it made any scratch look as though it was something by Leonardo da Vinci.

We were plunged into the Life Room, Room 73, with no preparation, just with half-imperial sized paper, 2B pencils or crayons. I conscientiously went round the outline of the model (Mrs Dornan or June Furlong?). We were all skating on thin ice, unassisted, only criticised by the lecturer, Phillip Burton, a small Welshman. Most of the lads were embarrassed, they said later.

So I went carefully round the model's edges and produced something like pale tramlines, week after week. Phillip Burton eventually brought me some of John Lennon's drawings, bold black simple lines. "Look at these definite statements. This is what you should be aiming at. See, here and here." He pointed out how one dashing line completed the top of an arm or the slope of a hip - all in one flow, finished. I looked at them and saw the difference. John was not present, he may have finished and gone down to the canteen.

Mr Wiffen's weekly subjects started off with a cup and saucer, then a teapot, a humpback bridge, painted in black and white special poster colour. We were out drawing the Protestant Cathedral on Friday 4th October 1957 (the Catholic one was not yet built). Thursday 17th October we were in Princes Park, hugging trees, to learn that trees - especially winter trees - were not just flat silhouettes. We each had to put our arms around a tree. It was hilarious. It looked like something from the Goon Show. This was 'Elements of Drawing' with Mr Wiffen, who always wore a white overall like a scientist.

One painter, Tony Byrne, had been to the Tate Gallery show of American abstract painters. He bought sheets of hardboard and decorators' paint, and started painting on the floor. John Lennon made fun of him (as he did of many people) and watched Tony painting on the floor. The next evening, John did one perfect floor-based painting and left it at that. He was quick to absorb whatever was new, and then move on.

When we returned in the autumn term, John was wearing a smart black corduroy jacket and I remarked how good it looked. "I'm wearing it because of my mother, the daft git walked between a tram and a car and got squashed," he said sharply. I did not know if he was being his usual sarcastic self, or if it could possibly be true - no one else had mentioned her death. So, I said, 'What a pity, that was really awful' and other sympathetic remarks, being puzzled about what he meant. It was never discussed again at all.

The college suddenly had also had a sort of investigation about our productivity, and John gave me his more outlandish drawings to hide in my locker on the top corridor. "They won't find them here, I've got to show them all my sketchbooks," John said. They turned out to be the foundation of his book, In His Own Write, in 1964.

#(transcribed from a photo of the text in the liverpool beatles museum) #john lennon #pat jourdan

[imperiuswrecked]

Tenoch has got me curious about Namor. Like a good curious. Yes he is a beautiful man, but now I wanna learn about Namor. I had a co worker say Aquaman and Namor came out at the same time, comics wise

Hello Anon! I can definitely talk about Namor XD it's my favorite subject.

Namor was actually created in April 1939 by Bill Everett, his first comic was in Motion Pictures Funnies Weekly which was a promotional thing to be given out in theaters his first story was then later reprinted and expanded in Marvel Comics (1939) #1 (November 1939). So he was actually created one month before Batman, and two years before Aquaman (November 1941).

So a lot of people compare Namor and Aquaman but they are actually different; Namor has always been born of human father/atlantean mother, his father is a Sea Captain, Leonard McKenzie, and his mother is Princess Fen.

Meanwhile Aquaman was totally human at first, his dad did some experiments on him to give him the ability to breath underwater, etc. (More Fun Comics (1941) #73) However later Aquaman would change to have the same backstory as Namor, human father/royal atlantean mother.

Marvel Comics (1939) #1

Namor is the first superhero in comics to fly, even before Hawkman, Shazam (captain marvel) and Superman, he is also the first comic anti-hero. Namor is also the first Marvel Mutant before the X-Men's creation. Fantastic Four (1961) Annual 1 published July 1963, that is still a couple of months before Uncanny X-Men (in September 1963)

Namor’s character is really interesting and unique, he is seen as a villain by the surface world, and a hero to his people. He is the protector of his people, Atlantis, and the seas. He has the blood of Neptune and is a descendant of him. Namor is a Prince who was caught between two worlds and never belonging to either world, his people saw him as too human, and humans saw him as too atlantean. So he is often mistrusted and betrayed by both the Atlanteans and the Humans.

Rise of the Black Panther (2018) #2

Not to mention that Namor and Aquaman both have very different personalities and morals, Namor tends to operate in a more gray area than Arthur does.

Sub-Mariner (2007) #4

Namor used to be a very popular character in the Golden and Silver age of comics but due to Marvel not handling his character well and canceling his comics, etc., he has been in a steady decline until recent MCU Namor news, although Namor has always had a small loyal fan following.

Origins of Marvel Comics: X-Men (2010)

In addition to being on several teams/starring in several books in the Marvel Universe, both hero and villain; X-Men, Fantastic Four, The Cabal, Avengers, Super Villain Team Up. He also co-founded some teams; Invaders, The Illuminati, The Defenders.

The Defenders art by Jorge Molina

Namor has a very long history, he fought in WWll against the Nazis. In fact he was the first Marvel character to be featured fighting against Nazis on the cover of Marvel Mystery Comics (1939) #4 even before Captain America was created. Aquaman’s first appearance years later would also feature him fighting Nazis, but Namor did it first.

Namor canonically has Mental Health Issues, his PTSD was finally acknowledged in Marvel’s Snapshot: Sub-Mariner (2020)

Namor has always been coded as biracial man in the comics. His first enemies were white people who harmed his people, the subamariners (what the Atlanteans were called in the Golden Age) are also coded as a indigenous sea people. Namor means “Avenging Son” in Atlantean. (Bill Everett wanted a cool sounding name so he wrote a bunch of names backwards and settled on Roman > Namor.)

Motion Pictures Funnies Weekly (1939)/Marvel Comics (1939) #1

Namor has had three major love interests in his life:

Betty Dean - a Human cop who was the first surface friend Namor ever had. They split up after the war as Namor had to return to Atlantis. She grows old while Namor stays young, but they reconnect as friends again later in life. Betty becomes the foster mother to Nita (Namor’s little cousin) and then later she dies after trying to protect Namor.

Lady Dorma - Namor’s first wife, an Atlantean Noble Woman who had been friends with Namor since they were young, both growing up in Atlantis. Dorma had been in love with Namor for years before he realized he had feelings for her too. She was murdered on their wedding day by Empress Llyra, when she tried to save Namor, she dies in Namor’s arms.

I had this gorgeous art of Namor/Dorma on their wedding day commissioned from  @pointdotiozao

Marrina Smallwood - an Aquatic Alien who was raised by humans. She and Namor meet many years after Dorma’s death and Namor falls in love. They were married and lived happily for a time until Marrina began to turn into a sea monster. She begs Namor to end her life before she takes another life as she was a very good kind person who could not stand the thought of hurting people.

If you want to read up more about Namor then I have a reading guide here

Namor is a very arrogant, proud, and emotional flawed character and under all his salty bitchiness he has a good heart. He isn’t afraid to stand up for people who can’t defend themselves and is often conflicted with his human and atlantean sides.

Art by Nick Robles

Also his catchphrase is IMPERIUS REX!

#namor #namor mckenzie #namor the sub mariner #long post #imp answers #if you have any specific questions then please let me know

[dollarbin]

Dollar Bin #34:

Kris Kristofferson's Freedom Trilogy

When I first arrived on campus at Pomona College 30 years ago the nonagenarian chair of the philosophy department requested my presence in his office. Pronto.

I had a pretty good idea what was going on. Professor Come-At-Once, who was a little too young for the civil war but at that point was mostly ear hair and guffaws, wasn't interested in my philosophical insights (which is a good thing as I don't know that I had any to offer at that point aside from, "Dude, like, Lou Reed is awesome; except when he isn't"); rather, he was a Kris Kristofferson guy.

(Dollar Bin devotees already know that Kris is my distant cousin; check out some of the details here and keep in mind that while I've been around Kristofferson a few times in my life he's never known me from Adam. That's background fact #1. And here's #2: Kristofferson, and about 64 of my other relatives, all attended Pomona ahead of me. Would I have been accepted without this connection? Hmm... Doubtful.)

"Ah young Wilcox, I presume," Professor Eager-To-Meet-You stood to greet me with quaking benevolence, gesturing to a carved wooden chair that was surely carried on and off the ark. "My sources, which I am proud to say, always keep their proverbial ear to this campus's hallowed ground, tell me that you are the cherished offspring of an Alison Searles, yes?"

(No, of course he didn't talk like this. I don't remember how the hell he assembled his sentences. I'm having fun here; but this conversation did really happen.)

"A delightful young lady, was your mother; I remember her well, though I do not believe she often graced my courses. Practical, was your mother, and mine is a classroom of introspection and inquiry, little of it immediately tangible, all of it heady. Indeed, I am sorry to say I knew your mother best for her connection to your illustrious cousin. I speak of Kris. He was quite the figure on campus in 58, 59. I mentored him, of course."

Professor Dwell-On-The-Past then showed me his most cherished memento: a framed photograph of himself presenting Kristofferson with an honorary doctorate in 73. Here's an internet image from that day; I suspect that's the old guy in question far right... He'd looked pretty good 20 years earlier

Apparently Kris brought Rita and Johnny Cash with him for that ceremony; I wonder how many other people have accepted honorary degrees from Pomona while knee-deep-and-sinking drunk.

Yes, poor Kris spent most of the 70's totally wasted. But Professor Ignore-the-Obvious didn't want to touch on that fact; rather, he had other points to make.

"Kris is, and always has been, far more than a mere musician you know," he waxed sententiously. "I picked him out early and saw him for what he was: a poet, yes; but also a leader and thinker of the highest order: an individual of nearly limitless potential. His Rhodes Scholarship was earned, mind you; his time in the army afterwards was honorable; and had he decided, like myself, to take up the reigns of academia, he'd be well published by now and be teaching alongside me; indeed I believe he'd be leading the field. Your mother's cousin," he said, leaning in so as to tattoo my soul with his erudition, "truly embodies a trite and overused phrase. I'm speaking, young Wilcox, of genius. Kris was, and always shall be, a genius. Now, you best run along. When I speak to him next I'll mention we spoke. And please do stop by again, young Wilcox. I see potential to you."

Dear Dollar Binners, Professor Slughorn was checking me out on that fine day in 94; he was seeing if I was worth collecting for his elite club of Sagehens who mattered. Few were admitted to his inner circle; few demonstrated such worth.

But I'm not, and never will be, Kristofferson material; my rightful place is in the Dollar Bin. And so I never sought or received invitation to that dude's office again.

Even so, I think he was right about Kris. The guy really is a genius. And his early trilogy of freedom songs, beginning with Me and Bobby McGee, reaching its apex with Burden of Freedom and culminating with Broken Freedom Song, a track he recorded just after he accepted that honorary degree, are perhaps the height of his art.

Let's dive in, shall we?

Kris first flashed his genius by interspersing a story of lost love with some catchy but weak sauce existentialist theory in Me and Bobby McGee. The song is a perfect miniature, showing off the storytelling chops that, according to family lore, won Kristofferson some writing prizes in college: Kris tells us how his hitchhiking narrator and someone named Bobby won over a truck driver by singing the blues; next, that narrator blows it and loses Bobby on the other side of the country.

Meanwhile Kris reminds us that freedom is possible only for those without material or emotional valuables to their name; but, because the human condition is such a thorough bummer, the people who are free in such a way all wind up just as miserable as my poor cousin Kris sounds while singing about it (even though he introduces it with a tossed off chuckle):

As I wrote back in my earlier entry on Willie Nelson, the song, and this initial performance of it, are vital. Kris always jumps at the chance to tell you he's a lousy singer, and I guess that may be true from a technical point of view. But he sings the hell out of this song, embodying the weary, yearning narrator who's drifting to sleep at the end, wishing they were back in Bobbie's arms while knowing full well all the while that it's never gonna happen.

But Kristofferson had yet to make his truly preeminent statement on the nature of freedom. That was yet to come.

There are plenty of artists who successfully boiled down their very best ideas to perfection just once in their career, leaving behind a song/performance that sums them up entirely and instantly becomes an integral part of our cultural cannon. There's Parton's I Will Always Love You, Holiday's Strange Fruit, Petty's I Won't Back Down, Lennon's Imagine, Bono's One, Cohen's Bird on a Wire, Cale's Hallelujah, Farrar's Whiskey Bottle, O'Connor's Nothing Compares 2 U, Bowie's Heroes, Chapman's Fast Car... we could go all day with this stuff.

Such songs can sound cliche quick in the wrong setting, sure. But they're also beautiful and hugely important. And on his third record, Border Lord, Kristofferson presents his own, albeit far less famous, contribution to the genre, a song which successful embodies not just his thoughts on the nature of freedom, but his final and best summation of his tortured biography to that point.

Take a listen to Burden Of Freedom:

The song masks its complex and rich poetry. You could hear this plodding track in the background and think little of it. But take a moment and listen, reading along. There's a hell of a lot here, all of it masterful:

I stand on the stairway, my back to the dungeon The doorway to freedom so close to my hand Voices behind me still bitterly damn me For seeking salvation they don't understand

Lord, help me to shoulder the burden of freedom And give me the courage to be what I can And when I am wounded by those who condemn me Lord, help me forgive them; they don't understand

Their lonely frustration, descending to laughter Erases the footprints I leave in the sand And I'm free to travel where no one can follow In search of the kingdom they don't understand

Lord, help me to shoulder the burden of freedom And give me the courage to be what I can And when I have wounded the last one who loved me God, help her forgive me; I don't understand

I grew up rightfully mythologizing Kristofferson's troubled early biography. After a golden childhood and a prestigious initial academic and military career he'd dropped everything and moved to Nashville, a young wife and children in tow, risking everything on a career in music. It took years of poverty and struggle before Kris ultimately pulled it off. But by the time he wrote Burden of Freedom in 71 his marriage was over, he'd failed as a father, his parents had literally disowned him (my own grandmother; his aunt and one of my heroes, did not disown Kris; she support and rooted him every step of the way. Good on you, Gommie.) and he was killing himself with booze.

And you can hear all of that terrifying journey in this simple, aching song. If Bobby McGee is sad, Burden of Freedom is despondent. A big, strong, broad shouldered man, when Kris describes "shouldering" the burden of freedom, he's describing an unimaginable amount of weight. This isn't a guy who misses his lady friend and wants to hum about it somewhere near Salinas; this is a human being buried by guilt and grief. I can hear all of his burden in the words, yes, but they're there in the song's staggering pace as well, in the soulful, pleading delivery.

What's left to write after a song like this? What's left to feel? Too often, after climbing to such a masterfull and unique spot, artists go on to mimic themselves (see just about every song Jay Farrar has written in the last 30+ years). Alternatively, they produce a bunch of second-rate crap (see 95% of Lennon's songwriting in the 70's).

Kristofferson did a lot of all that. He put out increasingly dull cover records with Rita Coolidge (Full Moon is great though; we'll pull that out of the Dollar Bin sometime soon), wrote some perfectly terrible crap with Roger McGuinn, and sunk deeper and deeper in alcoholism, all of which can be heard on his annual 70's records.

But he had one more vitally important thing to say about Freedom, and he said it in 74 on Broken Freedom Song:

You can hear that this song is the next and final stop on Kris's increasingly despondent Freedom tour. The dirge has resumed, this time in a melody-stealing fashion that Neil Young was busy christening for himself in a studio across town at that very same moment during the Tonight's the Night sessions. Note how the chorus to Broken Freedom Song borrows its initial melody not from the Rolling Stones (as on Young's Borrowed Tune) but instead from Kristofferson's own song The Silver Tonged Devil and I.

And note how Kris walks us through three different lyrically false starts, one for each verse. He's got a song about a traumatized soldier he starts but does not want to sing; then there's another about an abandoned pregnant woman, and he can't do that one either. Finally there's a song about Jesus of Nazareth, which he again abandons within the chorus that follows because, "it ain't no fun to sing that song no more."

At that point Kris had dedicated almost a decade to trying to liberate himself from a life of compromises both personal and artistic; he knew he was killing himself in the process and letting down everyone he loved. And yet he had no choice: whether it was Christ, the Muse, his demons or his own self, something would not let him rest, would not let him settle down and earn a paycheck, live a normal life.

But pursuing that life well lived was just too much for Kris. He couldn't go on facing life as a sex symbol celebrity and husband to a country-pop goddess. Being free in such away, and singing about it, was not working. "It ain't no fun to sing that song no more."

Spooky Lady Sideshow, the album which features Broken Freedom Song, is a total train wreck of a record. Kris isn't enteratainingly drunk on much of it; rather, he's too wasted and miserable to bear. But, in spite of his acknowledged failure in Broken Freedom Song to write and sing a full song about Jesus or anything else worthwhile, he has just enough spirit left to show us that he's not entirely broken.

Take a listen to his cover of Lights of Magdala. Kris may be a step away from dying, but there's still genius within him.

Hear the band gather around him for the second verse, pleading with Kris to to stick with them, to not give up and become another Hendrix, another Joplin. Hear them express their confidence in him in the fadeout, everyone soaring off on the riff.

They were right. There's a happy ending to all this. Five years after writing that last great song about freedom Kristofferson left Rita, sobered up for good and wound up seizing another 45 years (and counting!) of positive life as a good father, a good husband, a good man. He may not have been free in such a life - every time I've been around him he's been juggling dozens of responsibilities, politely interacting with me among them - but he has been happy.

And I've followed his example, in my own small way: working, husbanding, parenting, living. Thanks to Kris I knew from the start that nothing ain't worth nothing. It's just free.

#Youtube #kris kristofferson #neil young #me and bobby mcgee #p #pomona college

[happysheik]

This is a side by side of my baba (father) and I. We were both in our 30s. It.has been 17 years since his passing. I haven't heard his voice, gave him a hug or got to tell him I love you. Each day, each year goes by and all I want to do is reach out to him. All I had to do was look in the mirror he was there the whole time. If I knew I would not see my dad tomorrow, I would have taken a million photos. Each moment spent with our loved ones is a tiny miracle. Spend as much time with them as you can. Because once the people you love leave your life. To be honest in your heart you never stop grieving over them. Mama sheik is 73 years old and she still grieves over her parents till this day. They say it you want to know what someone is dealing with, walk a mile in their shoes. Like my grandparents, like my father and my mother letter to letter have walked through rain, sleet and snow from the age of 17 all the way until 28 to get home, school and work 3 to 6 miles a day. Like them I struggled with work, education, life, even immigration when I lived abroad. I have such an appreciation and gratitude for them. I will end this by saying Baba, I love you, I miss you and thank you for everything you did for us. I apologize for the times I may not have been grateful. You are in my thoughts l, my dua's (prayers).