#Rachel watches Black Lightning

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | seven

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: things get a little messy after returning home. a confrontation sparks the beginning of a new stage in your relationship with joel. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, angst, miscommunication trope, self-doubt, alcohol consumption/hangover, joel is 50 and he texts like it, les mis spoilers???, phantom of the opera spoilers???, jealous!joel, food/eating, hurt/comfort, professor DAD, professor COWBOY, soft emotional smut, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, oral [f!receiving], joel says dadgum cause i think it's so classic him and so cute. word count: 11.1k jesus series masterlist | main masterlist chapter moodboard a/n: merry christmas to all that celebrate. as always, thank you for your patience and kindness. the love for this series is nothing short of mind blowing, and i appreciate you all endlessly. i hope you enjoy this angst and potentially the most flowery + emotional ALP smut yet [if that's even possible]. also rachel i love you i'm sorry. without further ado, the beginning of our descent into The End Times x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part seven of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five, six.

Tuesday.

It's nine thirty in the morning and you buy a Coke anyways.

It’s raining heavy outside; fat droplets of water that splatter against the windscreen of your car and dribble down, slipping through the crevice at the top of the bonnet, searching for the engine, for the oil gasket, for somewhere undercover to dry out.

You tuck your legs beneath yourself, sit criss-cross in the driver’s seat, and take small sips of fizzing black sugar. Allow it to moisten your lips, coat your tongue and your teeth in that sickening, viscous way soda always does, before it slips down your throat.

There’s something unearthly about the day, unnerving—it’s Tuesday morning and you’re hungover. A dull ache behind your left eye, a kink in your neck. You check your phone.

Thick, rolling clouds loom across the sky. Occasionally, a flash of lightning, a thrum of thunder. You tear open a packet of peanuts and pluck one out, and then another. Eat until your lips are dry and puckered, and then take another drink. More peanuts then. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet.

It’s all you can stomach as your liver pumps and spasms, still working to cleanse your blood of the night before, spent sprawled on the couch with Trin and Nora.

Wearing sweaters and thick socks, gripping full glasses of wine, and watching Les Misérables. Nora, tears on her cheeks, had sung along with Hugh Jackman—'This innocent who bears my face, who goes to judgement in my place, who am I?’—and you, bleary-eyed and tipsy, had discreetly checked your phone.

You didn’t cry during I Dreamed A Dream but you’re crying for this? Trin rolled her eyes.

He sacrifices his freedom to save that man, Nora whimpered.

You woke up starving and the traffic was slow. At every red light and stop sign your fingers itched against the wheel, desperate to press inside your bag and pull out this little packet. And now, safe in the campus parking lot, you feast. Salty, sweet, salty, sweet. You feel a fleeting moment of pity for people with peanut allergies, and then you check your phone.

Still nothing.

Since you left New York on Monday morning there’s been no sign of life from Joel. No get home safe, no see you on Tuesday; no acknowledgement at all.

You stare dejectedly at the messages you’ve sent him.

First from yesterday afternoon:

Home now. Enjoy your last day in the big apple x

And then from late last night, two bottles of wine deep:

It’s raining and miserable here

Wish I was still in new york

With you

Sitting in your car now, glowering at the blank space where his response should be, you reconcile with the thought that perhaps he wants what happened in New York to stay in New York. Stolen glances and all-too-brief touches in a conference hall, his hand on your wrist at the museum, skin against skin in his hotel room, and in yours—perhaps it was supposed to happen there, not here. The lowering of walls came with a change in location, and maybe that was his intention. But those thoughts don’t ease the sharp twist in your chest when you think of him. Doesn’t take away how much you wish he would give you something – a morsel of communication, even a single word of acknowledgement. For as hard as you try to understand, you can’t forget the look in his eyes when he touched you at the cloisters, the way he breathed your name into your mouth. Sewing the seed of JoelJoelJoel into in the soft folds of your brain, impossible to forget.

You don’t think about his dinner with Rachel. Don’t consider that something may have happened that night, something that changed his mind about you. Something that made him rethink the entire weekend as you slipped into the shower and out the door, leaving him alone in your hotel bed while you headed to the airport.

No. You don’t think about that at all.

When you make it inside, clothes wet and cool from the rain, you shake your hair out like a dog. Let droplets fly across the hall as you make your way into the lecture theatre; a drizzled trail left in your wake.

The room is full when you step inside, but there’s no sign of him yet. You collapse into an empty chair in the front row and wait. The final few students filter in through the door, shaking out umbrellas and wiping their feet. And for another ten minutes you, foolishly, still expect Joel to show up.

It’s only when the door creaks open and an old man walks through, that you let the hopeful feeling rest.

He lays a worn old satchel against the desk and turns to smile at the room.

“Hello,” the stranger smiles, and his jowls quiver as he speaks. “I’m Jerry Dorfman, a Professor from the literature department, and…”

You zone out for a second, eyes darting down to your phone screen. Nothing.

“Oh, and Professor Miller,” Dorfman says, as if he’s just remembered that he shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be standing up there, in his spot. “Is tied up with a family matter. I trust he’ll be back with us later in the week.”

A family matter?

Slick with rain, staring at this stranger stood in Joel’s place, you feel like a kind of newborn. Some fresh lamb, soaked in the blood and amniotic fluids of her mother’s womb, staring through unseeing eyes, hoping to glean some understanding of this moment. This sudden burst of light, this shocking cold after so many weeks of warmth, of sweat and strong hands on your skin, holding you close. But this is Eros; the blacksmith, the limb-loosener, the crusher. A deviation from stoking the flame to the suddenly desperate, grasping loneliness of feeling as though you are standing by a lover’s window, staring helplessly through the glass, and watching them from the outside. Alone.

Dorfman tries and fails to connect his laptop to the projector.

Numb fingers type;

Are you okay? Where are you?

But no response comes.

No, not until later that night, not until you’re tucked beneath the covers of your bed, showered and sleepy, does he finally reach out.

The clock has just ticked past midnight when your phone vibrates.

Hey, I had to stay in the city another day. Just landed at PWM. See you on Thursday.

A hot, jagged feeling swims in your gut as you read the message, and then reread it. Twice, three more times, searching for some hint of familiarity. Some indication that he has been thinking about you as much as you’ve been thinking about him. That the past weekend meant something to him, like it meant to you.

Minutes pass, and when you don’t find what you’re looking for, you fall asleep without responding.

Thursday.

Nora wakes up with a stuffy nose.

This always happens to me, she sniffs. I hate being sick.

The tiles in the kitchen are cold beneath your bare toes and rain smears heavily against the windowpane. You can hear fat blooms of thunder bellowing outside. Nora’s sullen, husky voice paired with the steam rising from your mug are all it takes to convince you to stay home with her.

The two of you spend the day curled on the sofa beneath blankets. You stare at your laptop, a document open on your screen with the title of an essay sitting pretty at the top. The cursor blinks and blinks at you, taunting you, daring you to write something, anything. But Sex and The City is playing on the tv, and Nora is snoring at the other end of the sofa, and you can’t help but watch the minutes tick by on the clock. Listen to Carrie and Miranda argue about Big, and wonder if Joel has even noticed your absence.

Trin gets home from class, and you follow her into the kitchen. Peel and slice oranges and apples and lemons while she tells you about her day. Boil them in sugar with cinnamon and star anise while she complains about an argument she had with her boyfriend. Add red wine and brandy while she tells you that her Dad sent her some money, and she’ll order take out for the three of you.

So together you huddle in the lounge and eat hot Indian food with your hands. Soak pieces of naan in tarka dal and saag paneer and top if off with mulled wine, unphased by the clashing of flavours in your mouths.

And you don’t check your phone, or look at the time, and you don’t complain when Nora asks, with glassy-eyes and spinach in her teeth, if she can put on another musical.

He’s a freak, Trin frowns at the TV.  

He loves her, Nora implores, staring doe-eyed at a masked Gerard Butler.

Nor, Trin scoffs, he put a wedding dress on a mannequin that looks just like her. In his fucking lair, no less. That’s freak behaviour.

He has amazing sideburns though, Nora grins. So he gets a pass.

Your phone vibrates as Erik strokes a passed-out Christine’s face, singing help me make the music of the night.

Careful that Nora won’t notice, you pull it from beneath your thigh.

Where were you today?

You stare at the words for a moment and feel your lips curl into an disbelieving sneer.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mutter, and shove your phone into the crevice between the sofa cushions.

Wednesday.

A week goes by with no word from Joel.

No word from you either.

You stay home every day. Write and read and catch up on work and take Benadryl and sip soup and then you wake one morning, relieved to find that Nora’s cold has finally left your system.

So you tug on jeans, a sweater, and share a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Share quiet conversation with Pete in his shitty old Beamer as he gives you a ride to campus, and walk into Rachel’s lecture with zero expectation that today will be the day you finally see Joel again.

“We understand that Antigone is a victim of her father’s sins,” Rachel explains. “In the wake of patricide, of incest, every one of her actions is seen as a direct consequence.”

“Even her fate to be buried alive was sewn by her father’s unwitting actions,” she pauses, eyes searching the faces across the room, gauging reactions. “And, of course, this concept isn’t unique to Greek mythology. We see it plainly in the Bible, in Exodus; the sins of your father are to be laid upon the children… these themes of ancestral curses, of the inevitability of fate – they are integral to understand when looking at our tragic heroines. We saw it with Medea, we see it with Antigone, with Iphigenia, with Electra. Electra herself said, we are bound to acquiesce—”

An interrupting knock sounds against the door. Rachel’s head swivels around, eyebrows knitted in frustration as she calls for whoever it is to come in.

The door creaks open and her expression lifts. A saccharine smile spreads across her face, shoulders loosening.

“Joel,” she says warmly. “What can I do for you?”

A shiver wracks down your spine, toes curling in your sneakers.

The broad mass of him rests in the doorway. His head peeks past the wood, just a glimpse of his curls, his glasses, visible from where you sit. Your heart thunders in your chest, palms going damp at the prospect of this being the moment you finally see him again.

He speaks a few words in her direction, too quiet to catch, and then he’s taking a step into the room. His hand grips the edge of the door, keeping it open, and he casts a glance out towards the audience. Dark brown and searching, those eyes filter through countless faces until they finally land on yours.

And for a second, he doesn’t say a word. Just gazes out at you, eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead, and then—and then he fucking looks back at Rachel. Your stomach goes hollow when you see the smile on her face. She lazes against the corner of her desk, and it feels like minutes go by as the two of you stare at him. And there’s something about waiting, you think, that feels like torture. That slow, painful build-up of pressure as you sit and stare and prepare yourself to discover who he’s here for. You or her.  

You’re reminded painfully of a Graham Greene quote. A passage from The End of the Affair – one you’d, perhaps foolishly, found romantic when you read it that first time. Chosen words that had warmed your chest and made you feel light, lighter than air; the way only words could do sometimes.

‘Yes, Henry?’ and then ‘You?’ She had always called me ‘you’. ‘Is that you?’ on the telephone, ‘Can you? Will you? Do you?’ so that I imagined, like a fool, for a few minutes at a time, there was only one ‘you’ in the world and that was me.

Now, as you stare at Joel in the mouth of the doorway and memory of that passage sinks its hooks in, you feel only contempt for Greene.

For you had always read that passage imagining yourself as Sarah. And someone else, some misfortunate Maurice Bendrix, had fallen into your lap, and he was the ‘you’. But not you, never you. And it’s that pride which deceives. That pride which lulls us into false senses of security.

Joel says your name then.

Says, “Can I speak with you?” You, you, you.

And it should feel like relief, to hear your name on his lips again. But you catch the way he spares another glance, soft and sympathetic, in Rachel’s direction, and that sickly hurt isn’t abated.

Her face falls, but she smiles at you. Nods her permission for you to leave the room, and only when you’re halfway across the lecture theatre, bag swung over your shoulder, does she continue speaking to the class.

Palm flat against the door, he holds it open for you, making you press against him as you slip out of the room. It clicks shut behind you and he begins to move down the hall, leaving you to follow behind with no explanation. You assume that he’s going to lead you to his office, or anywhere more private than this, but a metre from the door Joel pauses abruptly, turns, and you slam into his chest with a huff.

“Jesus,” you mutter, stumbling a few steps back.

“Where have you been?” he glowers, brows drawn tight and angry over his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ve been busy,” you grit, glaring back. “Where have you been?”

“Busy?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ve been busy too. Busy teachin’ the classes that you don’t even show up for.”

“I’ve been sick,” you roll your eyes, unable—or perhaps just unwilling—to stray from nastiness, from spite. “My apologies, Professor.” 

“Don’t—” Joel snaps, and flinches as quickly as the word comes out of his mouth, surprised by how harsh it sounds in the air between the two of you. He takes a step closer, voice low now—“Don’t call me that.”

“Fuck, what is your problem?” you huff, eyes widening, exasperated. “I missed two classes, it’s not a big deal.”

“And the silence?” Joel takes a step forward as he says it. Close enough now to see the smudges on the lens of his glasses. Close enough to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. Too close for public; too close for here. “Can’t even text me back, huh? What the hell is goin’ on with you?”

Your body pulls taut at that, hands balling into fists at your sides.

“Oh, you don’t like silence?” you hiss, matching his volume. “You can’t be serious. Joel, I didn’t hear from you for days after New York. Why would I waste my breath when it’s obvious you don’t want to fucking hear from me?”

“It was barely two days,” he shakes his head, shakes off the insinuation, shakes off whatever blame you’re trying to put on him.

“Two days,” you nod, smirking angrily. “Two days after we spent an entire weekend together. Two days after we kissed and fucked and practically went on a date.”

And the word date must elicit something in him. Some minute, man-brain trigger that snaps him to attention and helps him understand the hurt on your face, the tremble in your hands. Because he says your name, voice softening, posture loosening, every bit of his body language screaming out that he wants to step forward and touch you.

And he’s speaking again, voice low, but there’s people coming down the hall, heading your way. Two figures that you can’t make out through the haze of Joel in your immediate vision. So when he reaches out and touches your hand you flinch, jutting your chin over his shoulder. A warning. Don’t do this here.

One of them calls your name and you pause, mouth open. Drag your eyes away from Joel’s features to watch the figures get closer.

“Pete,” you force a smile. “Hey.”

You realise quickly how it must look; your sullen expression, Joel staring down at you with his shoulders hunched. He must understand at the same moment, because he takes a quick step away, folds his hands behind his back.

“Hey,” Pete takes a step closer. He glances warily between you and Joel, confusion colouring his face. “Everything cool?”

Stony faced, Joel looks between the two of you, posture stiffening the longer he stares at Pete. So much larger than him, taller and broader and far more intimidating. But a man with a secret to keep isn’t one to jump quickly at confrontation, so he keeps his mouth shut. Let’s you do the talking.

Ian catches your eye over Pete’s shoulder and offers a sleazy sort of smile. You swallow down a glare and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Everything’s fine,” you lie, taking a step towards them. A step away from Joel. “What’s up, what are you guys doing in this building?”

Pete’s eyebrows pull together, and he cocks his head at you. “Said you needed a ride home today. This morning, remember?”

“This morning,” you repeat, nodding slowly. You raise your hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, thinking quickly, mind a mess. “I, uh… right, look, Pete, I actually forgot I have a meeting with Professor Miller about my final essay this afternoon.”

“Your final…” Pete trails off, frowning. “Isn’t that due in like a month?”

“Yeah,” you say vaguely, and do not look at Joel. “I’ll find a way home later, okay?”

“I mean, sure. I guess,” Pete agrees reluctantly, reaching up to grip the strap of his satchel. “Call me if you need me okay?”

And Joel’s face turns to stone at the insinuation in those words. The idea that Pete could give you anything he couldn’t. That anyone would need to swoop in and save you from him.

The pair of you stand in silence for a moment, eyes trained on Pete and Ian’s retreating backs as they head down the hall. You watch and watch until they turn the corner, disappearing from sight, and only then do you exhale a breath of relief.

You contemplate leaving him there. Turning your back on him and returning to Rachel’s lecture, ignoring his texts and letting this all fade into some painful memory. But when you look at him again—at those big brown eyes that gaze back at you—you know you couldn’t if you tried.  

“You look tired,” he frowns, and it’s not angry anymore. A little sad, maybe.

“I am,” you admit, and wonder if your face betrays how much of a role he plays in that exhaustion.

“Are you hungry?”

You stare for a moment, blinking slow, and then say, “Yeah.”

Joel nods, attempts a crooked smile, and says, “Let me take you to get something to eat.”

It’s silent in Joel’s car, aside from the soft patter of rain against his windows and the dull squeak of his windscreen wipers sliding it away. The truck glides through the winding streets of Biddeford, cruising down the main road and into the left lane of a fast-food drive thru. Orders you a burger, fries, nothing for himself, passing the bag into your lap and then continuing to drive.

The bun is soft beneath your fingers. Grease soaks your skin, and you taste beef, taste onions so soft, so sweet. A crimson dot of ketchup spattered onto your pants; a bright shock of mustard on your tongue. A fry here and there. Joel’s hand, outstretched fingers, sneaking across the centre console to steal one. You shift the paper bag on your lap, tilt the opening so it faces him, easier to access, but he doesn’t take another.

He grips the wheel and asks, “Do you want me to take you home?”

You think about Pete waiting for you at the house. Think about if Ian and that filthy smirk on his face and whether or not he’ll be there too. Think about having to flesh out your excuse, your lie, and finally say, “No.”

Joel keeps driving. You eat until your pants feel tight and the greasy brown bag is crumpled in your fist and he’s pulling his truck off the road and into a short driveway.  

“Full?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

“Is this your house?”

“This is it.” He drags the keys out of the ignition and knocks the door open. It’s not long, barely a second, before he’s pulling yours open with a rough yank and a soft, “Door always sticks on this side.”

A vague sound spills from the back of your throat, and he guides you up a path towards the small home. Single storey, with a large brown door and windows decorating the outward façade. Your immediate thought is that it’s very Joel, but you stop the idea in its tracks. Remind yourself that maybe it isn’t your place to think things like that.

Inside it’s even more silent, even more tense. The two of you stand in the entry way, toeing off damp shoes. Your eyes flit around his front room, but it’s difficult to focus on anything. Too much to look at, too much you want to know, and you find it easier to just look at him.  

“Realised you’d never been here,” Joel murmurs after a while. He shifts awkwardly on his feet, decidedly unsure of what to say as he rests beneath the weight of your stare. “This is the, uh, the livin’ room. Kitchen’s over there.”

When you don’t respond, he clears his throat, ticks his head towards the hallway. “Bathroom is down the hall. Bedroom too.”

You feel your face shift. Deadpan stare turns to surprise, to incredulity, to blatant anger.

“Oh, the bedroom, huh?” you smile, sardonic, cutting. Your throat feels tight. “S’that seriously why you brought me here? Ice me out and then come crawling back when you want something to fuck again?”

“Woah, hey,” his eyebrows shoot up, hands drifting forward like he’s trying to calm a startled animal.

“Don’t,” you hold up a shaking hand, eyes wide and wet suddenly. “Just… don’t touch me right now, okay? What are we doing here, Joel? Seriously.”   

He says your name hard and fast, surprised by how quickly it’s all unravelling, spilling from you in a tidal wave.

And spill it does. The words are wet and watery, a tsunami of pent up emotions pouring from your mouth without permission, without forethought.

“I mean, we haven’t seen each other since New York. And I… I thought being there changed things between us. But maybe I was wrong… and then you pull me out of a lecture, bring me here and say my bedroom is down the hall? Am I just… do you just like having someone to fuck whenever you want? Is that it? Someone at your beck and call?”

Joel repeats your name, sharper this name. “Don’t put fuckin’ words in my mouth.” His face pinches in anger, hands dropping.

“When it’s not convenient you try to shake me off, but when it is—at a bar, or out of town—” you list them off on your fingers, eyes growing wider and wider. “Oh, you want me then?”

“That ain’t fuckin’ true and you know it—”

“Do I?” you scoff.

“I came that night when you texted,” he implores, voice raising, all wild-eyed and pleading. “You were drunk, and textin’ and you needed a ride.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that—”

“You didn’t ask me not too either,” he crosses his arms across his chest. “You wanted me to come. Don’t fuckin’ deny that now.”

You open your mouth but he’s too quick, matching your spill with his own now.

“And as if you’re any better?” he bares his teeth now, voice low. “As if you didn’t find out I was your teacher and keep fuckin’ me just for the thrill of it. As if you actually wanted me, and you weren’t just gettin’ off on chasin’ some forbidden fantasy.”

“I…” you gape at him, unafraid to let the hurt show on your face. “Is that really what you think of me?”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think?” he hisses, exhaustion evident in the way he runs a hand through his curls and sags against the door. “You tellin’ me I should believe that you just want me for what I am? A fifty-year-old teacher who spends his time giving fuckin’ speeches to people that are hardly listenin’? Who goes home to an empty bed? That’s what you want?”

And it deflates you, a little. The wounded expression on his face – the devastating truth in those words, splashed across his expression so plainly for you to see. Disbelief.

“Is that such a crime?” you ask quietly. “To want you… and have it be that simple?”

“You shouldn’t,” he shakes his head. Grimaces. “You shouldn’t want me, I’m—I’m no good for you.”

You swallow. Feel tears hot and sharp behind your eyes.

“Then why do you keep letting me?”

“Jesus,” he exhales, and his hand is on the hem of your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, until you’re pressed against his chest, hands coming up to grip his shoulders and steady yourself. “Because I can’t fuckin’ quit you, alright?”

“Because I don’t just want you when it’s convenient,” his lips curl around the word, disgusted by the insinuation. “Because I think about you all the god damn time and if I can only have you some of the time then I guess I’ll take it. Because if you want some fucked up fantasy, then I’ll play my part if it means I get you, I don’t care—”

You cut him off, lips firm and searing against his. He goes still for a moment, mouth parting with a surprised exhale, warm when you press inside with your tongue. And then warmer, salty; tears on his cheeks, on yours.

“That’s not what this is,” you whimper into his mouth, desperate for him to believe it. “It was never about that, it was about you, Joel. I want you.”

He kisses you again, slow. All of the anger and hurt and frustration pools out of the both of you, spilling from your mouths and into the air. His lips mould over yours and his hands are warm on your waist, your back, holding you tight against his chest. When you sniffle, he pulls back, forehead heavy against yours, and sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, eyes closed. “I missed you, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for—"

“Where were you?” you interrupt. “What happened in New York?”

He hesitates for a moment, nervous and calculating as he stares you down.

You wilt a little; dejected all over again. Recoil from him and quietly ask, “Why won’t you let me know you?” 

Joel’s hand hovers in the air, as if contemplating reaching for you again, but then it drops and he says, “I was with my daughter.”  

You blink.

Daughter.

Daughter?

“She lives there now,” Joel sounds a little breathless, cheeks pink as the words spill from him. “In New York, with her girlfriend. I’d planned to spend an extra day there with her, and then Nina—Nina cut her hand open at the studio and we had to go to the ER, and she had to get stitches and—” He pauses, waiting for you to jump in, to interrupt, to say anything. When you don’t, he takes a breath and continues. “And I wasn’t gonna stay any longer but Ellie was worried, and she needed me. She needed me there, and—and I’m never fuckin’ there, because she never needs me anymore. So I stayed, and I’m sorry I went silent but I was… I was takin’ care of my kid.” 

You think it might be the longest—and the fastest—you’ve ever heard him speak outside of a lecture hall.

His eyes drift to something over your shoulder and his entire body seems to sag a little. But it isn’t sad. It’s a resigned, sort of relaxed thing that happens – the corners of his mouth tilt up and he smiles weakly.

You turn, follow his eyeline until you see them.

Pictures, so many pictures, lining the walls of his home. Ones you’d paid no attention to when you first stepped inside, but can now see clearly. Bright eyes and wide toothy grins.

Some of Joel younger, leaner, smiling beside a little girl with curly hair. Some of him as you know him now; scruffy and greying, beside a different girl. This one lanky and pale and grimacing toward the camera as if she were forced into being placed in front of it.

There’s one picture of the girls beside each other, teenagers maybe, sat on either end of a seesaw. The curly-haired girl is on the upper end, grinning madly at the lens, while the other sits with her feet planted firmly on the ground, laughing up at her. Two of them. Two daughters?

“Please say somethin’.”

There’s a picture of Joel and he’s holding a tiny little bundle in his arms, and he looks so young and so fucking afraid. Dark eyes wide and teary as he gazes down at chubby cheeks, his index fingers crooked around the edge of her swaddle. A warm feeling swells in your chest and your body softens the longer you look at it. He’s a father.

Joel says your name and when you turn his face is all twisted up, and he looks the smallest you’ve ever seen him. Almost curled in on himself.

“I should’ve told you,” he nods, brown eyes darting across your face in an attempt to decipher your silence. “I know that, and I—”

“I’m an asshole,” you interrupt softly, and the tears never left but now they feel heavier on your waterline. Begging to spill over again.

“Hey,” he frowns, hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes at the soft skin beneath your eye, begging the wetness there to disappear. “Hey, hey, no—”

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, sniffling. A sickly cocktail of embarrassment and guilt and shame swirl in the pit of your stomach and you try to swallow it down, try to send it away, but it’s persistent. “I never stopped to think that something had actually happened, that you had… I feel selfish, Joel, I’m sorr—”

“You’re not,” he hushes, fingers curling into the hair behind your ear. “You didn’t know. I should’ve told you before, and I’m sorry.”

“I thought you were staying away because of me,” you offer a watery smile. “I thought maybe you and…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. Can’t make your lips form the name Rachel.

“No,” he shakes his head, jaw tight, as if reading your mind.

“Is she okay?”

“Ellie?”

“Ellie,” you roll the name around in your mouth. His daughter.  “Yeah.”

“She’s okay,” he smiles, nodding. “They’re both fine.”

“And…” You look back at the pictures. Two. “And the other girl?”

“Sarah,” Joel says softly, pointing at wild curls and brown eyes that look just like his. And he must see the questions swirling in your brain because he speaks again. “I was twenty. My, uh, my girlfriend at the time didn’t know what to do. Didn’t wanna be a Mom, but didn’t agree with abortion, and we were so young and… well, I asked her to marry me cause it felt like the right thing to do, but she didn’t…” he shakes his head a little, a faraway look in his eye as he remembers it. “She said no. She never wanted that… so, after Sarah was born, I told her that she didn’t have to.”

“Didn’t have to?” you repeat the words, eyebrows furrowing.

“Didn’t have to stay,” he clarifies. Your lips part, surprised. “So, she didn’t, and we ain’t seen her since Sarah was a few months old.”

“Shit,” you whisper, eyes widening as the information finally starts to sink in.

“And Ellie,” he laughs then, gazing at a picture of auburn locks and shock grey eyes. “Well, that one showed up on my door some time fifteen years later. Been in ‘n’ outta foster care for years, and just started followin’ Sarah home from school one day. We did this little dance for a while; dinners and sleepovers and me slipping money into her backpack so she could buy lunch at school. And then one day she just… begged me not to make her go back to her own house. So I didn’t.”

“Wow, I…” you blink. “You adopted her? Alone?”

“I…” Joel pauses. Wets his lips, frowning as he collects his thoughts. “Alone is… I don’t think that’s the right word for it. You see Ellie was… Sarah and me, we just knew. She was family so fast. It was the only thing that made sense, you know?”

And it does, you suppose. The image isn’t hard to conjure. Joel at the dinner table with two teenagers on either side of him. Arguing over homework, over curfews, over what movie to watch. You can see the fondness in his eyes as he talks about them – the emotion laced through his words; we just knew.

“Tell me what you’re thinkin’,” Joel says, and that line between his eyebrows is back and it’s so deep that you can’t help yourself from reaching up and smoothing it over with your thumb. He catches your hand and holds it against the centre of his chest. Lets you feel the way his heart thuds heavily beneath the skin, a sturdy rhythm against your palm.

“It’s… it’s a lot to take in,” you confess, and his hand tightens over yours. “But I’m glad you told me.”

Brown eyes search yours, gaze heavy. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Okay then.” 

You flex your palm against his chest. Dig your fingers into the flesh there a little.

“Can I…” he hesitates, eyes flickering down. “Do you… Can I kiss you?” You, you, you.

Your heart beats fast, and you feel his do the same, and Joel is a father, and two daughters, and I can’t fuckin’ quit you, and you’re breathing into his mouth yes, yes you can kiss me, please kiss me.

It’s warm and it’s gentle and it feels like such a kindness to kiss him now and feel less space between the two of you. Feels like a thousand apologies and explanations slipping off his tongue and you opening your arms to him, saying I understand, saying thank you for telling me.

And when you pull him closer, wrapping an arm around the back of his neck, he meets you in kind, pressing your back against the wall. He shifts his hips between yours and shows you how much he’s missed you, and only when his hand drifts beneath the hem of your shirt do you pause.

He stills, warm breaths drifting across your mouth as he looks into your eyes.

“Talk to me.”

“I’m exhausted,” you admit shyly, twisting a finger through a frizzy lock of hair at the nape of his neck. You tug at it, not meeting his eye, and watch it bounce back into a curl when you let go. He nods and kisses you again, closed lips soft and not asking for anything, never asking for more than you want to give, before he takes your hand and leads you through his house for the first time.

He runs you a bath. Makes you sit on the edge while he lays out a towel and checks the temperature every few minutes. Only when he’s satisfied that the water is perfectly warm does he help peel the clothing from your body. He grips your hand and helps you step into the tub, lowering you down into sudsy water. And when you’re settled, he pulls a stool nearby and sits, keeping you company as you soak.   

“S’nice,” you tell him quietly, dragging a foamy sponge across your arms. “Thank you, Joel.”

The weight of before hangs over you a little, pressing down against your shoulders as you watch him. Gauge him. But he doesn’t seem angry or upset anymore. He leans over the lip of the tub. Runs his hands through the water, over the skin of your calf, your knee. Feels the coarse hairs that have grown there over the past fortnight and smiles when they scratch against his palm.

“Said you were sick?”

“Mhm.”

“What kind?”

“Just a cold,” you whisper. He squeezes your knee, palm against your patella, fingers soft in the flesh around it. “M’fine. Past it now.”

In the soapy water, his skin feels like silk against yours.

“Changin’ of the season,” he muses with a nod. “Normally gets me too.” 

And you laugh a little at that, because it’s such a fatherly thing to say and you can’t believe how naïve you’d been to not see it before. Can suddenly picture him doing this a thousand times over; resting by the bath while one of his little girls floats in the water, nose all stuffy from the flu.

At the sound of your laughter he smiles, gaze dropping to your mouth, and the skin beside his eyes pinches. Little wrinkles, so soft and so beautiful that you want to reach out and brush your fingers across them.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, and his voice is hushed, so low in the small bathroom.

His fingers skirt against the inside of your thigh and you splay your legs open for him, knees knocking against the sides of the tub. He glances down through the water to where you’re spread open for him to see, shameless, and smiles.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he repeats.

“So are you, Joel.”

“Psh,” he rolls his eyes, offering a delicate little smile. So shy, so feeble, and so desperate to believe you. A little glimpse of that wary weight, still pressing down on him as well.

“Mean it,” you insist in a whisper. You lift a hand from the water, wet thumb grazing the corner of his mouth. Feel the bristles of his moustache, the hairs on his cheek, prickling against your skin.

“Swoony type,” you say, smiling when recognition flashes in his eyes. Stroke the fresh blush on his cheeks. “Long hair, bedroom eyes, cheeks like wine.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning to press a kiss against your palm. “Can’t get away with plagiarisin’ Carson in this house, baby.”

“She just said it so well.”

“She did,” he agrees. “So did Tartt.”

“Tartt?” your mind wanes, the warm water lulling you into a sleepy sort of daze. You rest heavy against the side of the bath, gazing up at him

“Beauty is terror,” he quotes tenderly, eyes bold and earnest as he holds your stare. “Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulders, water droplets staining his shirt where your fingers grip the material, and pull him forward to kiss you. Joel grips the inside of your leg and kisses you until your skin prunes and wrinkles. And when he notices he laughs with you, gripping your hand to press his lips against fingertips that look like raisins. Worships the soaked skin of your fingers until you pull his face back to yours; jealous of your own hands, fearful that they might come to know his kiss better than your lips.

And when the water goes lukewarm and you don’t know what time it is anymore, he dries you off with a soft towel and offers once more to take you home. But you say no, so he smiles and kisses you again—your lips, your cheeks, your eyelids—and leads you to his bedroom.

He drags a too-big shirt over your head, helps you loop your arms into the sleeves. Dark blue and warm, so warm, against your skin.

The two of you slip beneath the covers on his bed and he drags you against his side; lets you press your cold toes against his shins without so much as a flinch.

Facing each other on your sides, those hands slink beneath the shirt, rough palms cradling your ribs, your back, holding you tight against his chest until your breathing falls in sync. And those hands don’t stray, don’t move down, they just embrace you. A carefully held apology that promises I want this, to hold you, to be with you, too.

It stays like that, nothing more, until your eyelids are heavy, and his breathing has evened out. Stays like that until your hand drops from his back to the band of his boxers, sleepy little fingers plucking at the material, trying to slip underneath.

“You should rest.”

But you whine softly; needy and insistent as your fingers press harder.

“What do you need?” Joel rasps into your neck, helping you shift them down his legs.

“Need you,” you whisper back into the darkness of his bedroom. “Wanna feel you, I—”

His mouth is soft against yours, plucking those words from your mouth and swallowing them down. He sucks your bottom lip between his, prying your mouth open so he can slip his tongue inside.

His hand in on your knee, pulling your leg up until your thigh rests heavy around his hip and you can feel the hot weight of him against your core, still slick and warm and needy from when his hand rested on the inside of your leg in the bath.

And if you’d ever subscribed to the meaning behind words like sin you suppose that once this might have counted as one. An act worthy of being sent to reside in that second circle of hell, reserved solely for those overcome by lust; left to blow back and forth in the storm of their own desire. Two people who cannot touch, should not touch, who hold their hands out to feel anyways. A touch once spiteful, once desolate and removed, now so forthcoming. A touch that says this is the only way it could have ever been. And there can be nothing sinful about it anymore. No more shame or derision behind heavy eyelids, no more you shouldn’t or I’m no good for you. Here you rest comfortably in the hurricane of that second circle, and you welcome the breeze as a comfort.

Lips against yours, Joel feeds his cock to you in slow, careful passes.

Ensures you feel every ridge, every hard line of his body. And with each gentle press inside he murmurs against your mouth. Incessant, low nonsenses of so fuckin’ beautiful and god I missed you and that’s it, baby, I know, I know. His kiss smooth as an almond, tender as a fig. Ripe and wet and tremulous as his tongue finds a home against yours, over and over.

The comforter on his bed stays pulled high, up to your shoulders, and it traps the warmth of your bodies between you.

He coaxes rough, gasping sounds from you with every shift of his hips.

Long fingers grip the back of your thigh, using his hold there to rock your body into his over and over again, slowly, making sure you feel every second of it. Slick seeps out of you around his length, smearing against the inside of your thighs and his, and he groans at the wet sounds that slip from where the two of you are connected.

Joel says your name, low and gravelly, praising every syllable. He tells you how good it feels, how perfect you are, and every word is like an undressing of the flesh. Like you’re some tender butcher, peeling back layers of his skin to let the air hit hot, red, pulsating matter, flashes of thick, porcelain bone swimming amongst it all. He keeps you close, hardly an inch of your body not touching his, and yet you can see all of him. The whole surface and everything underneath it now too. And when you say his name in return and he moans, begs you to say it again, say my name again, it’s hearts on wings, thin fire racing beneath the skin, eyes unseeing, drumming filling your ears. It’s the cold sweat on his hands that hold you shaking, that feel the way you tremble and grip tighter. It’s wanting to take those bones of his and suck them clean; lick past the gristle and taste the marrow beyond it.

It's everything and it’s nothing and it’s that silly little four-letter word that you can’t bring yourself to say, let alone think, and it doesn’t even matter because he’s here and that’s enough.

His nose rests in the hollow above your collarbone and he inhales, smothering soft kisses to skin and bone there.

He says, “You smell like me,” and when he looks up and presses his forehead against yours, he almost looks wounded by it. He stills, holds himself deep inside and just stares, and his eyes are screaming I can’t fuckin’ quit you, so you lay your thumb over the dimple on his cheek and smile. “S’my clothes, my soap…”

Your body flutters and tightens around him, and your mouths fall open in soft moans, lips slotting together again.

“You like that?” you breathe into the kiss, and he tightens his fist around the back of the shirt, pressing inward until your back is arched, and your stomach is flush against his and he’s groaning yes.

“Want you in my clothes all the fuckin’ time,” he pants, and the tip of his cock presses so deep inside that you’re gasping, mouth hanging wide open. “And when you give ‘em back I’ll wear ‘em and smell like you, and then we’ll be even.”

“Even?” you laugh a little, nipping at his bottom lip. He smiles, eyes glinting in the darkness.

“Yeah, even,” he repeats it and presses forward in a sharp thrust to emphasise his point. You don’t need to hear it again to know exactly what he means.

“Tell me you’re mine,” you whisper, and he grunts, hips shifting a little faster against yours. You feel him pulse inside of you, his stomach tightening against yours.

“M’yours,” Joel murmurs, voice like velvet and honey, so soft as he leans forward to kiss you, licking the words into your mouth. You say it back, spell it out against his teeth, his lips, his jaw. Yours, yours, yours. 

He says something else then, lips soft against your chin, and you’re so close; can feel it hot and burning in your gut, almost at tipping point.

“Hmm?”

“Baby,” Joel nips at your jaw, sharpening your senses. “Tell me you’re on the pill or somethin’.”

“I am,” you whimper honestly, and his body seems to sag against yours, hips shifting in sluggish, tired movements.

Something snaps at the base of your spine, and you tremble against him, gripping the back of his neck. Soon enough he’s shuddering into you, arms going tight around your back, trapping you against his chest as his cock pumps inside your core. And it’s warm and wet and sticky and his seed drools out of you, down to your asshole, smearing against the inside of your thighs, his sheets. Your legs wrap around his waist, holding him to you, keeping him there as long as you possibly can. Riding out your highs, and then the trembling, stuttering aftershocks in each other’s arms. He pants into your mouth and all either of you can say is mine or yours, until the words mix together and become a meaningless blur of sound murmured between locked lips.

It could be minutes or an entire hour before you manage to separate from each other. All eager little kisses and whines as his soft cock slips from your hold, thick spend seeping out of you in his absence. And you just want to sleep, want to curl up in his arms and never leave, but you slink off to the bathroom first. Wet your face and drop down on his toilet. Urinate and feel his come drip out of you. And where once, with someone else, you might have cringed at the feeling, you only feel warmth; calm.

In the bright lighting of his bathroom, you can see yourself reflected in the mirror above his sink. Hair a wild mess, cheeks and lips swollen with warmth. This woman in the mirror stares back at you and she has bright eyes. She smiles at you, and you feel your lips peel back, teeth on show just like hers. You stare at her and think god, she looks happy. When you wipe between your thighs and stand, she does too. And with your finger on the light switch, a wet handtowel clutched in your other palm, you give her one last look before turning out the light, feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Thursday.

Joel sleeps on his stomach. At least, that’s how he ends up overnight.

Face buried deep in a pillow, one leg slung outside of the covers, with a heavy arm out to the side. When you wake, at first, you’re careful not to move. Not to breathe too heavily, not to cough or jostle him awake. He looks so peaceful like this. Heavy breaths puffing from chapped pouty lips, forehead smooth and devoid of the stress and exhaustion that often lines his face. A large hand rests close to you. Despite you drifting a part in the night, the body heat getting too much for you both, his fingers remain outstretched in your direction. The tips just grazing the skin of your stomach as you lie on your side and watch him.

A low murmur escapes from his mouth, face twitching a little, and then he’s relaxing again, humming in his sleep. You smile, and let your eyes wander.

There’s a pile of books on his bedside table, reading glasses dropped haphazardly atop them.

An Idiot’s Guide to Space, one of the weathered spines reads. Interesting.

A framed painting rests above a set of drawers on the side of his room. A vast landscape with a herd of horses galloping across it. Gorgeous hides of orange and brown and black splashed across green grass and blue sky. And on the back of his door… hangs a cowboy hat.

You move slowly, careful not to wake him as you rise and tip toe across the room. Coming to rest directly in front of the closed door, you slip it off the hook and admire it. You don’t even hear his breathing change as he wakes up.

Dark brown with a curved brim; the felt is soft beneath your fingers. The image of Joel wearing it, perhaps often, while living in Texas flits through your mind and you can’t help but smile. And then warm hands are on your hips, arms snaking around your waist to pull you back into a warm chest.

You gasp in quiet surprise, but your smile only broadens when Joel rests his chin on your shoulder, peering down at the hat in your hands.

“Mornin’,” he murmurs, voice gruff and deeper than usual. A pang of arousal swims in your core at the sound of it, but you ignore that, turning in his grasp.

“Good morning, cowboy.”

Joel groans, sleepy eyes drifting closed as he hugs you to his chest, swaying the two of you from side to side.

“Wanted to lie in,” he grumbles. “S’too early for this.”

“For what?” you blink in mock confusion, holding the hat against your chest.

“For you to see that.” He moves quick, tugging it from your grasp.

“Hey—” You gasp, wide eyed and ready to steal it back. But before you can Joel just lifts it onto his head with a heavy sigh. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeats, eyes narrowing.

Warmth simmers in your stomach and you smirk, stepping back to give him a quick once over.

“I could get used to this.”

“Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, moving to take it off but you grip his hand, shaking your head fiercely.

“Not so fast,” you coo. “I want the whole experience.”

“And what exactly is the whole experience?”

“You know—” You shimmy your hips a little. Imitate twirling a lasso in the air, wiggling your eyebrows. “Show me some tricks.”

Joel laughs at you, and you can see the desire in him to say no, to refute it, but the longer you stare him down, the more it cracks and fizzles away.  

“Go on, cowboy,” you try out your best Texan drawl, falling down to sit on the edge of his bed.  

He adjusts his legs, elbows bending as he waves two finger guns in your direction. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down a laugh as he makes a small pchew pchew noise out the side of his mouth.

“Oh,” you smirk. “Is that all you got?”

“I’ll have you know,” Joel huffs, pretending to holster one of his guns. Hip cocked now, still dressed in nothing but his sleep shirt and boxers; he stares you down. “I’m startin’ to think this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”

And that gets you. A sharp, barking laughs slips from your mouth, and Joel grins in return, the skin beside his eyes creasing as he adjusts the Stetson over his curls.

As your giggles calm, he just shakes his head, still smiling, and murmurs fondly, “Dadgum, you got a good laugh.”

Your face warms beneath his stare, and you just shake your head, bottom lip snagged between your teeth. Moving quick, Joel pinches the brim of the hat and places it onto your head. It’s a little big, and the brim falls down, obscuring your eyesight before he adjusts it for you. Then he takes a step back, hands on hips.

“How do I look?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, smiling shyly.

“I don’t know,” he fakes an air of contemplation, giving you a long look up and down. “Think you might be all hat ‘n’ no cattle.”

“Hey,” you pout. “I’d make a great cowboy; just need a pair of chaps.”

“Well, you can wear the hat and the chaps all you like,” Joel murmurs, gaze heavy. “But you ain’t a cowboy ‘til you prove you can ride like one.”

Your thighs tense and you arch an eyebrow, trying to remain nonchalant.

“Is that right?”

“S’right.”

“Mm,” you hum. You lick your bottom lip and watch the way his gaze darkens, eyes trained on the movement. “Gonna let me show you what I got?”

And so you end up back in bed, straddling Joel while he smirks up at you, long fingers twisting around the hem of your t-shirt. But when you slip a finger inside the hem of his boxers, the movement so reminiscent of last night, he laughs a little and gives you a look that says, really?

You pout, confused. “I thought you wante—”

“Uh uh,” Joel shakes his head. “Not what I meant.”

“Then what?”

“Get up here.” He lifts his chin upward.

Your eyes widen, stomach tensing a little.

Desire warms the inside of your thighs, and you murmur, “You want that?”

“Do I wa—?” he cuts himself off, eyes darkening a shade. “I said, get up here.”

Heart racing, you shimmy up his chest until your knees are planted on the mattress on either side of his shoulders. He smiles, encouraging, and you grip the hem of his shirt, prepared to pull it over your head, but he stops you.

“No,” he exhales, hand quickly gripping yours. “Leave it on for me.” And then he leans in and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, and you can only nod, holding your breath as you wait for him to reach where you want his mouth the most.

Face tucked in the cradle of your hips, Joel sighs your name. A rough exhalation, nose pressed into your skin. And it feels a little silly at first – your face is warm as you stare down at him, the wide brim of the cowboy hat tilting forward.

But then, breath hot and heavy against you, he mouths at the crease where your hip meets your thigh. Slow, drawn-out kisses that have your legs tensing over him, his hands slip beneath the shirt, tracing light patterns into the skin over your spine, all the way up to your shoulders. He keeps going until you’re shivering, a wet trembling mess in his hands, hips twitching forward with every touch of his mouth to your skin until he finally glides his tongue through your folds.

Your breathing hitches as he pants against you, chest vibrating with low sounds as he licks thick stripes up the entire length of your pussy. Eyes closed, he tastes all of you; tongue slipping over every piece of exposed skin that the position grants him. And with every broad stroke of his tongue, he dips inside your weeping hole and finishes with a gentle flick against your clit. So soft and so slow, building you up over and over until finally you break and begin rocking your hips into his face.  

Joel grunts at first, a little surprised maybe, but in a second his hands are dropping to grip your thighs, locking you in place against his face.

At first, he guides you. Helps you find a rhythm that works, that feels good. Flattens his tongue and uses his grip to rock you back and forth over his face, groaning as you roll your clit against him, huffing and panting quiet little pleas. But soon enough your fingers are carding through his hair, holding him tight against you as you grind down into his mouth. Sharpening his tongue, he dips it inside of you and then drags upward, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking gently.

You gasp, vision going hazy as you try to keep your eyes on him, try to watch, but it’s too good. He knows exactly what you like, and it all moves far too quickly for your liking. You can already feel your hips winding faster and harder against him, breaths falling shorter, everything in your stomach pulling tight and hot.

Joel can tell – he can always fucking tell – and one of his hands drifts over your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs from behind until his middle finger is circling your entrance.

“Fuck,” you inhale sharply, jaw going slack as he prods at your cunt, tongue lapping lazily over your clit all the while. “Please, your fingers, yeah, ohhh—”

A long finger sinks inside and you moan, head falling back.

“You like that?” he murmurs, pulling back to graze his teeth along the inside of your thigh. A second finger presses inside, and he curls them against that soft spot, fucking you slow and steady until you acquiesce, whimpering yesyesyesfucksogood towards the ceiling.

“Good girl,” he hums, slick tongue finding its way back to your clit.

He eats at you so lovingly. So generous as he lathes firm circles around your nerves, only ever pausing to suck you into his mouth again or press wet, open-mouthed kisses against the entirety of your cunt. Nose buried in the short curls over your mound, he doesn’t let up until your moans turn high pitched; strained little whimpers of his name falling from your lips as you press down harder and harder.

“Oh fuck,” you cry, hips rocking back and forth, faster now. He breathes you in, jaw shifting from side to side, matching the intensity of your movements with sharp flicks of his tongue. And when you fall apart, shoulders sagging forward, he moans, taking and taking and taking every last drop of what you have to offer.

And what an image it must be – you, wearing a Stetson, riding Joel Miller’s face. You almost wish you’d filmed it, for posterity’s sake.

He presses a small kiss to one swollen lip of your pussy, and then the other, before his head is falling back into the pillows and he’s smiling up at you.

The lower half of his face shines, lips and facial hair slick with your come, and you can’t help but grin back, a tired snort of laughter slipping from your mouth.

“How’d I do?” You grip the brim of the hat, tipping it down at him.

Joel smirks, hands squeezing your thighs, helping to shift you up and onto the side of the bed so he can sit up.

“I’d say you more than proved yourself,” he hums, leaning in to steal a kiss. You sigh, whining against his warm wet mouth, and reach a hand down to press it against his abdomen. Shifting lower, you trail your fingers over where his cock strains against his boxers, but Joel just tuts, pulling away and slipping off the bed.  

“Hey,” you huff, gripping his shirt and trying to pull him back down, but he just shakes his head, laughing, and drags you to your feet.

“Gonna be late,” he tells you, squeezing your hips and pressing a kiss to your temple. “And you needa eat.”

Late. You’d almost forgotten that you had a lecture this morning. Joel’s lecture.

He turns, rifling in the chest of drawers, pulling out clothes, a pair of socks, while you stand behind him and watch, knees still shaking, with a fucking cowboy hat on your head. After a moment he turns, stares, and a rough laugh hits the air. Shaking his head, Joel grips the brim and tosses the hat back up on its hook before pointing towards the ensuite, telling you to shower.

“You coming?” you ask, and he just shakes his head, tugging on socks before padding towards the hallway.

“Cowboys don’t shower, baby,” he flashes a smile over his shoulder at you and winks. “They just dust off.” 

When you make your way out of the shower, Joel is in the kitchen. Ironed black trousers and a neat white shirt cover his frame, and from across the room you admire him. That strong back, the pert rounded muscles of his ass. Fuck.

He manages to over scramble the eggs and burn the bacon because he can’t stop looking over his shoulder at where you rest at his dining table. Head resting heavy in your palm, you smile back at him. And when he puts a plate of food in front of you, you don’t have a single complaint.

The two of you eat fast, plucking little pieces of eggshell out as you go, smiling and laughing shyly as your feet tangle beneath the table. He watches you; makes sure you clear your plate before he takes it to the sink, murmuring something about how he won’t make you sit through me talkin’ for hours on an empty stomach. Says he’s pretty sure that counts as torture somewhere, baby.

And when he turns, dirty dishes forgotten in the sink, you’re staring at him, heart on your sleeve, and he must see it in your eyes. You know that it has to be clear as day; that forbidden four-letter word blazing across your forehead in bold letters.

Joel clocks your gaze and moves to hover over where you sit, wordlessly cupping your face in two broad palms and slotting his mouth over yours. And as he licks into your mouth, tasting the remnants of eggs and bacon and every unsaid word, you start to believe that maybe confessing wouldn’t be so bad. That maybe forbidden is a word you’ve prescribed to this feeling all on your own – that he might just be feeling the exact same way.

But he pulls back, presses two more quick pecks to your mouth and tells you to get ready, says he’ll drive the two of you to school, and the moment slips from your grasp.  

Back in his car, you feel relieved to replace the memory of yesterday with this one. Windows down, the air is cool and calm against your skin as he drives you through town, sated, dopey smiles across both of your faces.

A Bob Dylan song drifts from the speakers and Joel sings along under his breath.

“We’ll meet again someday on the avenue. Tangled up in blue.” Voice low and breathy, left hand on the wheel, right hand on your thigh. You nod along to the lyrics, your fingers tracing the veins and tendons on the back of his hand all the way until he pulls over.

“Shouldn’t be seen walkin’ in together.”

“Yeah,” you agree, understanding. “Best not.”  

The truck idles on the side of the road, somewhere inconspicuous down the street from campus, and you slip out his passenger door. Close it with a thud and peer in at him through the open window, eyes devouring every part of his face as if you won’t be seeing him within the hour, stood up in front of the room giving a lecture.

The truck peels away from the curb, Tangled Up In Blue still whining from those speakers, and Joel sends a quick wink out the window at you, his face a blur as he drives off. And you just smile, chest warm despite the cool Spring air on your face, walking along in the same direction – because you know exactly what that wink means. And you love it.

Our little secret.

a/n refs:

in Dante’s Inferno he said that those overcome with lust were doomed to the second circle of hell, wherein they would be buffeted back and forth by the terrible winds of a violent storm, without rest. slay.

the bacchae tr. by anne carson [read if you have mummy issues, a massive ego, or just like the idea of frolicking in the woods for a while...]

the secret history by donna tartt [read if you like unreliable narrators, strange professors and stranger students, and the nursery rhyme 'the farmer in the dell']

the end of the affair by graham greene [read if you like weird intense guys and angst and infidelity]

eros the bittersweet by anne carson [read if you're cool as fuck]

thank you for reading! x

#finally am i right? #my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

[call-me-maggie13]

I’m bored and the guys at work are being goofy so here’s a list of no context things I’ve heard from The Boys™ recently.

“Call me a fake lesbian but I don’t really like girl in red. Clairo? Love. WILLOW? Besties. Hayley Kiyoko? Lesbian Jesus. But Girl in Red and I don’t really vibe. Sorry.”

“Maybe I’m losing my mind, but I wanna bite that truck.”

“Aye, watch your language.” “Will it do a flip?” “What?” “Watch it’s gunna do a flip!” [flips manager off]

“Have y’all heard about the Zuckerberg V. Musk fight? Okay let’s debate. Kanye or Swift, who would win? Actually. That wouldn’t be fair, Kanye never stood a chance. Okay. Obama or Trump? Fists only, no weapons.”

“Do you ever wonder if grass can feel? Like. What if it screams on a frequency I can’t hear every time I step on it? What if the fresh mowed grass smell is actually grass tears and blood?”

“I know we all agreed, but…”

“If lightning struck me right now, would y’all try to save me?”

“Sometimes I’m like ‘Hozier is a god.’ And sometimes I’m like ‘Hozier is just some guy.’”

“Someone threw away a black American Express card. Can I keep it? It’s not expired.”

“I’m not allowed to set off fireworks anymore. It’s not my fault I didn’t know they were actual explosions that could burn a house down. No, this wasn’t when I was a kid, this was like three months ago.”

“What do you think the sky tastes like?”

“When I was twelve, my mom hit me with her car backing out of the driveway and she didn’t even take me to the hospital. I think I broke my arm and I’m pretty sure that’s why my wrist does this. [shows wrist making clicking noise when he rolls it]”

“Okay. But. What if. Nope wait, I think that’s illegal.”

“God customers are stupid. Are you closed?? No lady, the sign says we’re closed because we’re open. It makes me want to eat a car battery.”

“If you could only eat one bug for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“What are y’all’s opinions on potato flavored chewing gum?”

“Can I start bringing my dog to work?”

“Can I break this? I know it’s already broken, I want to break it more.”

“I’m a simple man. I like when things go boom. That doesn’t mean I started the fire.”

“Sometimes I like to take a bath and pretend I’m a little potato getting boiled to make some mashed potatoes.”

“Why can’t I be a duck? Why do I have to be a person?”

“But if I just punch him in the face, I don’t have to worry about him being mean anymore.”

“Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Maggie. Mag - okay I’m bored now.”

“If I was a rock, I think I’d be a big blue smooth shiny rock. What rock would you be?”

“I have an announcement to make. Stalactites and stalagmites. That is all. Carry on.”

“Sorry, was that gay?”

“I think being an adult is all about being nice to yourself. And taxes, maybe.”

“Why does the dirt over here taste saltier than the dirt by the flowers?”

“No. If I’m not asking him about Taylor Swift, what makes you think I’d ask him about Gracie Abrams?”

“Can I make a list of everyone’s red flags?” “Only if you list their green flags too.”

“I had to change your contact name to Charles. I don’t know why Charles, I just panicked and picked the first name I could think of.”

“Sometimes I forget she’s your mom.” “She’s not my mom. Do you think she’s my mom?” “Not anymore.”

“God. Everyone wants to be Donna but no one wants to be Rachel. No one is Donna except Donna. Everyone else is Rachel. Or they’re Harold.” (Someone please tell me what this means, I have no idea what he’s talking about)

“Why do crickets taste like that?”

“Oh to be a silly little horse in a silly little field being taken care of by a silly little person I could crush like a bug beneath my silly little hooves.”

“Tell me more, tell me more, like does he have a car?”

“The world went to hell when autopsies started testing for poison. Women just can’t poison their husbands anymore. That was the true beginning of the downfall of society.”

“What happens if someone asks to take their motorcycle through the carwash?”

“You don’t have to file customer complaints if you eat the paper they’re written on.”

“And if I said I still haven’t forgiven John Wilkes Booth, what would you say?”

“I don’t say this lightly, but the Pedro Pascual edits on tiktok have confused me sexually.”

“I just pulled a dead bird out of some guy’s grill. Anyone hungry?”

“Taylor Swift might have forgiven him but that doesn’t mean I have to!”

“Why aren’t we allowed to have a company pet? Firefighters get Dalmatians, we should be allowed like. A fish or something.”

“I dreamt that I came to work yesterday and worked an entire shift, is there any way I can get that added to my pay?”

“My girlfriend is mad at me because I keep playing I’m Just Ken and telling her she’s Kenough.”

“Can we close early on October the thirteenth? Oh, no reason… On a completely unrelated note: what should I wear to the Eras Tour movie?”

“If my grandmother confessed to murdering my grandfather but it happened in like the eighties, do I have to report it? Hypothetically, of course.”

“Sometimes a man just needs to cry to mirrorball and tolerate it in his car. Sometimes he just needs to scream Death by A Thousand Cuts. Sometimes…”

“I accidentally just called a customer Mom and she gave me her phone number, what do I do?”

“It’s only blasphemy if you get caught. Do you really think God has time to listen to everything every single person says?”

“Sometimes I wish I was a woman but then I remember this is America and I thank the stars that I’m not. Sorry, Maggie.”

“Why is it so hard to find a stupidly rich woman searching for a trophy husband?”

“Do you think I could walk through the carwash instead of taking a shower?”

[after a guy’s day off] “I missed you guys yesterday. I wish I never had to leave.”

“My sister told me I was adopted and my mom got mad because she wasn’t supposed to but like. My parents are white. I’m black. I already knew.”

“I just had a child quote Revelations at me because I told him he shouldn’t drink the glass cleaner.”

“I forgot my shoes. Also, I just stepped in glass in the parking lot, someone should really clean that up.”

“I think everyone should be allowed to kill someone if they have a really good reason. I would kill the guy that called my sister a bitch because she didn’t want to sleep with him. Who would you kill?”

“Is… is that… not… normal?” [hint: it was not.]

“I stand with Sansa - I mean Sophie Turner.”

“I still don’t understand why I’m not allowed to punch customers in the mouth for being assholes to Maggie and Dru.”

“What kind of tree do you think I am?”

“Apparently I was supposed to listen to the new Olivia Rodrigo album with my girlfriend and now she’s upset with me for listening to it with y’all first.”

“Every night, I go to sleep and every morning, I wake up. How do I stop this cycle?”

#I work with men #boys at work #the guys #boys will be boys #boys will be bugs #boys will be Barbie #these guys #they’re so silly #my boss has also started calling me Magnolia River Blossom when I fuck up #that is not fun #I swear they all share half of a brain cell #I swear I never know what they’re going to say #I love my job #barbie 2023 #barbie movie #barbie #Taylor swift #taylor swift eras #eras Taylor swift #guts olivia rodrigo #olivia rodrigo

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Maximum Ride AU?

[This has elements of When the Wind Blows as well as Maximum Ride, because I know the original book a little better.]

• They look like six kids right now.  Six fun-loving kids out for a good time in the California fall, enjoying loaded fries and hot wings while crammed around a table at the sidewalk café.  They stand out, to be sure — they all have multicolored dye in their hair, Marco’s sporting a mohawk, Ax wears those wraparound sunglasses despite the cloudy day, and of course there are the bulky windbreakers slung over all their shoulders.  But they only stand out enough to get a second glance, not a third.

Don’t give them a third look.  They’ll notice, and you’ll be the one who regrets it.

Still, though, they look... If not normal, then normal enough.  Normal-adjacent.

• Of all the workers in the Sharing Institute, Dr. Aftran was always kind to them.  She was the one who let them into the outdoor enclosure even when they hadn’t earned yard privileges, the one who snuck candy bars into their cell, who “forgot” to turn off the television when their TV hour was over more often than not.  She was kind, and that was all she was... until Ax’s bidirectional vision implants didn’t take, until he came out as a null result.

Null results get put to sleep.

Dr. Aftran injected him, exactly on schedule, and his unseeing eyes fluttered shut even as he fought hard against the drugs.  But when he woke up, it was outside underneath an open sky.  And the rest of his flock was around.

They never do find out what happened to Dr. Aftran.  Maybe it’s better that way.

• The sidewalk café fills, empties, fills again around them as the afternoon passes, but no one kicks them out.  Their waitress initially shows interest in Ax — everyone always does.  But it’s Marco who finally catches her attention on purpose, whispering back and forth, scribbling something on a napkin that causes her to blush and lean in close.

Jake watches.  He glances at Cassie.  She glances back.

Ax doesn’t see their glance, of course, but he can pick up on the currents of the conversation just fine.  His knee bumps Cassie’s, a silent question, and she taps his arm once in confirmation.  Ax sighs.

It’s been like this, more and more lately.  Marco spending time with outsiders, turning away from the rest of his team.  Chafing at the need to go everywhere with five other kids his age in tow.

Too freakin bad. They go together. For Ax. For themselves. They go together, or not at all.

• Evening creeps up on them, and by now the café chairs are being flipped up onto fresh-wiped tabletops.  This is as long as they ever stay anywhere, so they’re full and content when they stretch to go.  Without discussion, they’re assembled at the lip of the canyon.  It’s nice to use this kind of natural formation — the dropoff makes it easy to get up speed — and Jake is just thinking how nice it will be to get going again, when...

“Where’s Marco?” Tobias’s voice is tight.

Rachel groans.  “This time, I really am going to kill him.”

They’re all modified: Rachel for strength, Tobias for skill, Jake for speed.  Marco for his lightning-fast calculation, Cassie for her ability to move underwater.  Ax’s modification didn’t take, but he’s scary smart all on his own.

So really, there’s no question of who will be chasing Marco down.  Especially not in that narrow canyon.

“Be back in a minute,” Jake says, and jumps off the cliff.

• Black-and-white wings, ten feet from primary to primary, unfurl from Jake’s back.  He’s not as beautiful as Ax, his pinstriped underwing and blue-gray back no match for that angel-white black-tipped plumage.  He’s nowhere near as large as Rachel, who once knocked a grown man clear through a wall with a sweep of her enormous brown wings.  But he can do this: rocket through a canyon at over 150 miles an hour, banking into turns so tight they’d kill any of the others who tried, trusting he can adjust in time even as the walls brush within inches of his feathers.  Luke Skywalker in the trench of the Death Star, Tobias often jokes while watching him.

Catching up to Marco is easy.

Getting him to talk is a whole other ball game.

They’ve been sitting there for a good fifteen minutes — fifteen minutes they can’t afford, not with half the Sharing Institute hunting them across the state — before Marco finally swipes a hand across his face, clears his throat, and finds something to say.

“Warren Worthington the Third,” Marco confesses at last, staring not at Jake but at the vireos hunting the canyon far below.  “That’s the name I gave her, when she asked.  Warren Worthington, and the phone number of a Domino’s pizzeria.  Only my name’s not Warren Worthington, is it.”

“Marco,” Jake says, trying to forestall the inevitable.  “Your name is Marco.”

“Marco,” he spits, “is something you call me.  My identity is Subject 1273-MRO, and my code name, the name my mother put on my birth certificate, is Icarus.  Fucking Icarus.  Because she knew I’d never, ever be able to eat at a café or flirt with a girl or have a life at all.  So it didn’t matter if she gave me the stupid fucking name of a guy legendary for how much he sucks at flying.”

“I know,” Jake says heavily.  “I know.”

“You don’t.”  Marco’s voice cracks.  “If you ever feel like giving up on the rest of us, you can always go find your normal-ass mom and dad and brother in their normal-ass house and...”  He spreads out his arms.  “Surprise, guys!  I didn’t kick it at birth.  Thanks for naming me Jake, and not Uriel or Vajrakila or Tinkerbell.”

Jake doesn’t answer, because Marco’s not wrong.  They know from the Sharing Institute files that Marco and Ax stole that Jake’s parents were all told they’d be signing up for an experimental drug trial during pregnancy.  That they’d agreed to be impregnated with genetically modified embryos.  That on the day of delivery, the doctor had been heartbroken to say newborn Jake had died in the incubator.  That the Sharing would very much like to keep the remains for study, and was terribly sorry for their loss.

“Marco,” Jake says.  An affirmation.  “Marco.  I know you guys decided I should be the leader or whatever, but I’m just a dumb scared kid like you.  I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t know if we’re ever going to find someone we can trust.”

“Yeah,” he whispers.  “No kidding.”

“But Marco... I know I’m sticking with you guys no matter what.”  Jake shifts around, forcing eye contact.  “I know that.  Those people, they’re not my family.  That’s you guys.  We fly together, and I know that.”

Marco stands.  They haven’t solved any of it, not really.  This is all going to happen again.  They’re still freaks, still hunted.  But he nods, resolute.  “We fly together.”

And they leap as one.

• They find Tobias’s birth mom, from the stolen records.  She claims she doesn’t remember any of it.  Doesn’t remember being pregnant, doesn’t remember giving birth, doesn’t remember who might have knocked her up or when.  She says this all to their faces, not hesitating, not looking away.  There are scars on her forehead, scars on her scalp.  She doesn’t remember having a son, she says, she’s terribly sorry but she doesn’t remember.

• Jake dreams.  The voice doesn’t give itself a name, but it always tells him the same thing: he’s meant to save the world.

• David was their tagalong, their unwanted but tolerated kid sibling, their friend.  He could be annoying, and he never seemed to realize just how different his life was from theirs — he went home every night to a warm bed, he had a mom and dad, he had food that wasn’t protein mush.  But he went through the tests, the endurance exercises and the injections, right alongside them.  And his insider knowledge of the Sharing Institute saved their lives, on more than one occasion.

So when the creature — every bit as freakish as them, but with none of their grace and with joints that move hampered by pain — steps from the shadows and into the light, Cassie gasps sharply against the threat of tears.

David was supposed to be an entirely separate project.  He’s programmed with regenerative cells, has a life expectancy of over 400 years... and yet here he is, creeping forward on swollen knees that are powered by straining lungs.

“We have to go,” Jake says, when Tobias takes an involuntary step toward their former friend.  “We have to go now.  If he found us, then the Sharing’s not far behind—”

David lunges, mouth open, unnaturally long teeth aimed at Tobias’s throat.  Rachel body-slams him on intercept, the two of them rolling in a mess of feathers and blood across the filthy ground.

“Go!” Jake points to the sky.  Tobias takes off, whistling to guide Ax, and a second later Marco follows.

Jake grabs a fur-covered arm.  David’s wrist twists the way no human’s would, and he sinks claws into Jake’s skin.  Jake cries out in pain, but he slams his head forward into David’s face.  Jagged teeth tear open Jake’s cheek, his forehead, but David recoils from the blow.

Rachel rolls loose.  With overhuman strength she stomps down onto his stomach, until David jackknifes around her with an oof of pain.  She raises her foot again, but Jake catches her arm.

“We go!” he shouts.  “Together.  NOW.”

Whether it’s the sight of his bloodied face, or the sounds of the others hovering and desperately whistling for them to join, Rachel shakes the bloodlust.  She beats hard against the air, helping Jake to rise with her much larger wings.

Down below, Sharing agents are streaming across the ground.  Most of them are armed with rifles and tranq guns, but the man who dives forward to pull David into his arms has no weapons at all.  The flock takes off, and for now they get away.

• They find Cassie’s parents.  Michelle and Walter are gentle and kind.  They stitch the cuts on Jake’s face and Rachel’s arms.  They ask questions, like are you okay and how long have you been on your own.  They give the flock hot food, and soft beds, and something infinitely more precious that the kids all drink up like lizards in the sunshine.  But Cassie looks out the window one night, and she sees a girl who is not a girl standing at the edge of the woods.  They don’t stick around to find out if it is the Sharing, if David and his fellow trackers would settle for killing the horses or would murder the veterinarians too.

• Jake dreams.  The voice tells him again to save the world.  He replies, just as he always does: the voice can go fuck itself, because he’s only here for saving his friends.

• “Look,” Tobias says.  “Look.”

There are hawks hunting along the cliffs below.  They dive with sickening speed, pulling up short with crabs and trout in their claws. 

They swoop and spin around each other, wheeling and screaming.

“We’ll scare them away if we get any closer,” Rachel points out.

“So don’t get closer.”  Tobias perches so close to the edge of the cliff he threatens to tip over, relaxed and unafraid.  Happy, or as close as he ever gets.  “Just watch, and learn.”

• He scares the hell out of them, when he drops out of the sky the following evening.  Cassie screams in shock, but he’s back before any of them can get too scared.  He’s holding an ice cream cone he just stole clear out of some guy’s hand, seagull-style.

“What?” Tobias says, laughing, making a mess.  “I was just hunting.  It’s what birds do, right?  We hunt!”

Later Tobias shows Rachel what do to: wheeling close, wheeling far.  For a time they rocket along toward the ground, synchronous and breathless, wings half-tucked.  Then they split, and shoot apart, and wheel around again.  Courtship, the ornithologists call it, and there’s an ecstasy in the dance that no human can touch.

• They find Jake’s family.  It’s a temporary measure, they tell each other, they tell themselves.  It’s temporary.  But it’s better than a cave above a sea cliff, better than a tent in the woods.  It beats nesting in an unused clocktower or a moldy steeple.

Jake’s parents and brother are nice.  They’re conventional.  They’re upright and intelligent and suburban.  They sit the flock down in the living room, and they sip tea and make concerned faces and try to determine just how not normal their newfound son is.

There’s an uncertainty there, a hint of hesitation that Michelle and Walter didn’t show.  But Jake’s family is comfortable, is middle-class and law-abiding.

• So law-abiding, in fact, that Jake wakes up the following morning to a room full of Sharing agents and a rifle in his face.

If he had to guess, it was his brother who called 911.  One the cops who answered thought to contact the FBI.  Some FBI agent knew to call the Sharing, and to tell them to retrieve their lost property from the Berenson residence of suburban Carmel.

“RACHEL!” Jake screams.

She knows what to do.  There’s a crash from below, his parents’ picture window exploding out onto their lawn.  Three figures shoot toward the sky — Rachel’s enormous brown wings, Marco’s brown-and-white striped ones, and Ax’s angelic pinfeathers.  Rachel has blood limning the tops of both wings, Marco’s clutching Ax’s wrist in his hand, and they’re away.  They’re away. 

There’s no sign of Cassie or Tobias, but Rachel and Marco and Ax are clear.

Jake watches them go, hope tugging his heart toward the sky, even as the needle jams into his neck and the black drugs suck him down.

• Jake awakens in a dog crate.  Size medium.  Suited for dogs 90 to 120 pounds.  His wings are pressed against his sides with cramping force, his body twisted in a fetal position he won’t be able to uncurl from.  Ask him how he knows.  Better yet: don’t.

• “Marco?” Cassie says, sucking in a breath and coughing, the instant she’s awake.  “Rachel?  Anyone?”  She rolls, feathers scraping painfully on the sides of the cage, until she’s sitting on her knees with both hands pressed on the ground.  She can’t stay like this forever or her feet will fall asleep, but there’s a fundamental comfort to be had in hugging her own wings around herself.

“Cassie,” Jake says, quiet and dull, from somewhere to her left.  “Cassie.”

“Jake. Who... Who else?”

“I see Tobias across the way,” Jake says.  “I think it’s just us.”

Cassie closes her eyes.  Thank goodness.  They’re probably going to die here, the three of them, and there’s going to be a lot of horribleness in between now and then.  But at least Ax is safe, at least Marco and Rachel are free.

“Ax is okay,” Jake says, thoughts following the same path as her own.

It could be better.  Tobias tolerates crating the worst of any of them.  No one planned for Jake to sprout to six-one and over two hundred pounds during puberty when they mass-ordered cages this size.  She’s probably never going to fly again.  Nor are Tobias and Jake.

But it could be worse as well.  Null results get put to sleep.

• They all hear it when Tobias wakes a little later.  There’s silence, and then there’s the sound of thrashing so violent that the whole row of cages shakes.  Tobias is breathing in soft hoarse cries, shoving wings and knees and wrists against the bars with bone-breaking force.

“Tobias!” Cassie calls.  “Tobias, it’s okay, you have to calm down or —”

He’s making small desperate noises between gasps for air.  There’s a sickening thud as his head impacts the ceiling of the cage.  All six of them are claustrophobic — it’s the whole reason the Sharing ordered these cages — but it always hits Tobias worse to be confined.

“You have so many relationships in this life,” Jake says in rhythm.  “Only one or two will last,” and it takes Cassie a second to realize he’s singing.  “You go through all the pain and strife, then you turn your back and they’re gone so fast...”

Tobias has quieted, panting, listening.  Jake’s no great talent, and his voice is too low to do the song justice, but it’s something.

“Oh, so hold on the ones who really care,” Cassie sings now, joining in with Jake.  “In the end they'll be the only ones there.”  It helps her to sing as well, she realizes.  Forces her to breathe in rhythm, gives her something to focus on.  “And when you get old and start losing your hair, can you tell me who will still care?” she and Jake sing together, and it must be working because Jake’s getting louder and Tobias is getting quieter.  “Can you tell me who will still care?”

And then there’s a third voice — not Tobias, not the white coats — that joins them for the chorus.  “Mmmbop, ba duba dop, Ba du bop, ba duba dop...” they harmonize, off-rhythm but singing hard enough not to care.

“David,” Jake says quietly, in the pause before the second verse.

“Hi.”  He speaks just as softly.  He’s in the cage directly above Cassie’s, out of sight through the opaque floor.  He sounds bad, hoarse and wheezing almost as hard as Tobias was a minute ago.

“David?” Cassie asks.

He answers the question she didn’t put words to.  “What do you think?  The new modifications didn’t take.  Obviously.  I’m a null result.”

She thinks back to his swollen joints, his awkward gait, the teeth that didn’t fit into his mouth and the bone claws that split the ends of his hands.  Seeing them with new light now, beyond the horror of what his own family had done to him.

“David,” Cassie whispers helplessly.

“I should have come with you,” David says.

Cassie flinches.  They never asked him.  They figured he was better off here, and so when Aftran got Ax and Ax got Jake and Jake got the rest of them, they’d left David behind.  He’d known they were going to take any chance they could to get out, and he’d always warned them against it when the conversation had turned that way.  They’d thought, they’d thought...

“Your mom and dad were here,” Jake says.  “And anyway it doesn’t matter now.”

“They can’t!” Cassie blurts.  “They can’t, they can’t.”  It’s David.  He’s supposed to live forever; that’s why he was made.

“Plant a seed,” David sings, with desperate force.  “Plant a flower, plant a rose...”

“You can plant any one of those,” and now it’s Tobias joining in, then Jake, “Keep planting to find out which one grows.”

Cassie sucks in a breath through tears.  “It’s a secret no one knows,” she sings, because what else can they do, “It’s a secret no one knooooows.”

• The door slides open, sometime after they enter their second rendition of the song.  Marco’s mom stands on the other side.  Lab coat on.  Syringe in hand.  “I hear you’re awake,” she says.

“Can you tell me who will still care?” they sing, ignoring her.  “Tell me who will still care—”

“Stop it!” she snaps.  “All of you, stop it immediately.”

Jake lifts his head, red grid from the bars imprinted into his cheek.  “If you didn’t want us singing, shouldn’t have made us into birds,” he says flatly.

She draws in a breath, but they launch back in, louder and louder: “Can you tell me? No, no you can’t ‘cause you don’t know.  Can you tell me?  No, no you can’t cause you don’t know.  CAN YOU TELL ME? NO YOU CAN’T CAUSE YOU DON’T—”

Zzzzzztt-BAM!

The cages are electrified.  Would’ve been nice to know sooner, Cassie thinks as she clenches her fists and her jaw until the tremors wear off.

“Enough!” Marco’s mom shouts.  She twists the lock on David’s cage and wrenches open the door.

“No,” David moans, “no, no, please, I want my dad—”

He’s still uncoordinated from the shock; Marco’s mom easily drags him out by the hair and throws him to the floor.

“Don’t do this!” Jake shouts.  “He’s a person.  This is murder.”

Marco’s mom lifts her head, brushing hair out of her face.  “He’s a failed pet project of Mr. Visser’s, and it’s high time we eliminated him.”

“Please,” David screams.  “Please, I want to see my dad, please!”

“This won’t even hurt.”  Her tone suggests she has no idea what David has to complain about.  “You’ll be unconscious long before cardiac arrest sets in.”

David struggles for everything he’s worth, but the needle is large and unforgivingly sharp.  Marco’s mom slams it into his chest, not seeming to care where it lands, and depresses the syringe until it is empty.  She tosses it aside, breathing hard, watching David closely.

“Can you tell me,” Cassie sings, a thready whisper, barely there, “which flower’s going to grow?  No you can’t, ‘cause you don’t know.”

David is crying, already fighting for air with more than just exertion, but his eyes lock on hers.

“Can you tell me,” Tobias sings with her, that same tiny thread of sound, “If it’s going to be a daisy or a rose?  You say you can...”

David’s eyes slide shut.  His lungs empty, and they don’t refill.

• Tobias does his best to lose reality, after the white coats drag David out of the room.  He tries to retreat into the memory of flying through caves with Ax and Marco, their whistles bouncing off the walls to map the space none of them could see.  He should be more like those hawks, who slam the ground when they miss a strike but recover in seconds.  He should be more like the pigeons who get by with two toes and one working wing, still surviving just fine.  He should be like the mallards who never tire or slow, even after months’ worth of twelve-hour days.  Instead, he’s a fucking parakeet: ripping out his own feathers, unable to stop no matter how hard he bites down on his own fingers to punish himself for punishing himself.

“They have to feed us eventually,” Jake says with confidence.  “They have to give us water and space.”

“A bathroom would be nice too,” Cassie mutters.

“Exactly,” Jake says, hearty as a camp counselor.  “Exactly.  They’re going to let us out pretty soon now, you’ll see.”

Tobias would like to punch Jake’s fucking teeth in.

• There’s a scree of metal on metal, somewhere in the depths of the facility.  Jake tries to lift his head to look, but gets no response from his neck muscles.  He lost feeling in his lower legs a while ago. 

There’s a thud, quiet like it’s far away but powerful enough to rattle the room they’re sitting in.  The next thud is closer, louder, and this time the cage bounces off the floor.

WHAM.

That’s directly on the other side of the door.  Another WHAM, and the door visibly dents inward on its frame.

“Guys, be ready,” Jake says.

“To do what?” Tobias asks sourly.  But at least he’s talking.

WHAM.

The door crumples off its hinges.  Rachel stands on the other side, a firefighter-issue battering ram in her hands.  It has to be 200 pounds, but with all their enhancements it’s no real surprise to see her holding it easily.

“Step aside!” an unfamiliar voice calls from behind Rachel.  “Please, step aside.  The more footage we can get —”

Rachel moves out of the way, but goes into the room.  She stops long enough to press her fingertips against Cassie’s through the gaps in the cage door, but only for a second before she focuses on Tobias.  His fingers are bloody, his left wing as well, but he’s coherent enough to whisper her name.

The man who pushes into the room just after Rachel is a lot harder to explain.  He’s middle-aged, but has the kind of blue eyes and tall frame that suggest he used to be beautiful.  The strangest thing about him isn’t the makeup he wears or the way there’s something naggingly familiar about his face; it’s the industrial-size video camera perched on his right shoulder.  He points it around the room, pausing to zoom in first on Tobias and then Cassie.

Ax shoves into the room after the man, Marco brushing wingtips with him.  “Jake?” he says, lifting his head to listen.  “Tobias?  Cassie?”

“We’re okay,” Cassie says.  “We’re here.”

“Shit,” Marco whispers.  He’s peering through the door of Jake’s cage, lips pressed together.  “Shit, man, you are too damn tall.  Anyone ever tell you that?”

“‘S what I have you for,” Jake says.

Marco fumbles at the lock on the door.  Luckily they’re simple mechanical things, not requiring keys but only the leverage that comes from being outside.  “Okay,” he says.  “Okay, we’re getting out of here, I’m doing a guest appearance on Touched by an Angel, and we’re headlining for Leno.  Yeah?”

The door pops open, and Jake is sliding out from the sheer force of where his body had pressed against it.  Some combination of the shock and the dehydration and all the blood in his body deciding to rearrange itself at once gets to him.  The world goes black.

• Jake wakes up what feels like an eternity later.  He’s propped sitting up, his back against the row of cages, and there are several unfamiliar adults talking over his head.

Before he can go into flight-or-flight mode, Rachel crouches in front of him.  She’s peering close into his eyes, holding out an object that — once he finally figures out how to focus on it — proves to be a juice box with a picture of an apple on the outside.

“Take it,” Rachel says.  “Cassie already had like six and didn’t keel over, so it’s probably fine.”

Jake takes it, sucking gratefully at the tiny straw.  He looks over her shoulder at the guy who came in with them, and the three other people who are now filming that guy as he talks into a microphone.  “Who...?”

“Kept finding parents.”  Rachel jerks a thumb over her shoulder.  “Finally hit on a useful one, go figure.”

“Hello, Jake.”  The man crouches next to Rachel, holding out his hand.  “I’m Dan Berenson.  It’s an honor to meet you, son.  Nephew.”

Jake stares at the hand.  “Who do you work for?”

“NBC,” Dan says.  “National Broadcasting Comp—”

“What are you doing here?”  Jake’s being rude.  He doesn’t care that he’s being rude.

“We’re doing an exposé on the Sharing Institute.”  Dan gestures to the people behind him, presumably coworkers.  “It’s a very important project.”

“I brought helicopters from two other news stations while I was at it,” Rachel says.  “Just to be on the safe side.  One’s technically the Weather Channel, but whatever.”

The thought of her simply flying at the nearest two helicopters with cameras until they followed her is almost enough to make Jake laugh, in spite of it all.  He knows why she didn’t trust NBC alone — far too many companies and government orgs are in the Sharing’s pocket — but it’s a typically Rachel approach.

And here he’d thought Marco was joking about being on TV.

“C’mon.”  Rachel hooks a hand under Jake’s arm, helping to haul him to his feet.  “The others are outside.”

He shifts, tangling his feathers with hers, as they walk together.  She gets a wing around him and yanks him close, a few inches shorter than he is but still with that unmatched wingspan.  He lets her shove their shoulders together, bullying her way into his space, and doesn’t comment on how much her hands are shaking.

“Check this out!”  Marco spreads arms and wings when he sees them, taking in the vans and helicopters and dozens of camera operators on foot.  “That’s what I call a media circus, baby!”

“No,” Tobias is telling a woman with a paramedic’s uniform.  “No, I’m not going anywhere without my flock.  You take us all, or none of us.”

Lab coats are fleeing, Jake knows, taking what they can and running for it.  Ordinary Sharing staff members as well.  Any incriminating experiments the reporters don’t find in time will be put to sleep.

But it’s something.  It’s the whole world watching, from those hovering machines to Rachel’s dad with the handheld camera.

“He said it,” Rachel announces, chin lifted.  “We fly together, or not at all.”  She’s smiling, tears in her eyes.

Jake finds his gaze drifting past her.  There’s still smoke coming from the crematorium, dispersing slowly into the sky.

• Jake dreams.  There’s still work to be done, the voice says, and for the first time Jake thinks yeah, okay.

#animorphs #maximum ride #animorphs ficlet #animorphs au #long post #crossover #character death #self-harm #child abuse #dehumanization #medical abuse #hanson #it's james patterson y'all #and it's k.a. applegate #this was always gonna be dark as fuck

[sisiofthemultifandom]

My Massive SHIP LIST

The following is a LONG list of all the ships I enjoy from a moderate to an extreme amount and have probably looked at fanfiction for at some point. Keep in mind this doesn't include every movie and/or show I've ever watched and I may make edits to this at a later time. Godspeed you unfortunate witness.

Agents of SHIELD

Coulson X May

Daisy X Lincoln

Fitz X Simmons

Bobbi X Hunter

Mack X YoYo

Arcane

Caitlyn X Vi

Arrowverse

Oliver X Laurel

Roy X Thea

Diggle X Lyla

Barry X Patty

Wally X Jesse

Caitlin X Ronnie

Kara X Mon-El

Alex X Maggie

Brainy X Nia

Attack on Titan

Eren X Mikasa

Falco X Gabi

Bertdholt X Annie

Ymir X Krista

Levi X Hange

Avatar the Last Airbender/Legend of Korra

Katara X Zuko

Aang X Toph

Sokka X Suki

Aang X Katara

Bolin X Korra

Avengers (MCU)

Steve X Natasha

Tony X Pepper

Thor X Jane

Wanda X Vision

Peter Q X Gamora

Scott X Hope

T’Challa X Nakia

Matt X Karen

Luke X Jessica

Peter P X MJ

Bucky X Sarah

Ben 10

Ben X Julie

Kevin X Gwen

Berserk

Guts X Casca

Bleach

Ichigo X Rukia

Uryu X Orihime

Tatsuki X Orihime

Gin X Rangiku

Toshiro X Momo

Boku no Hero Academia

Izuku X Occhako

Todoroki X Momo

Bakugou X Kirishima

Eraserhead X Present Mic

Castlevania

Trevor X Sypha

Alucard X Greta

Class of the Titans

Jay X Theresa

Atlanta X Archie

Critical Role

Percival X Vex’ahlia

Vax’ildan X Keyleth

Scanlan X Pike

Sylas X Delilah

Fjord X Jester

Beau X Yasha

Caleb X Essek

Imogen X Laudna

DC Comics

Clark X Lois

Bruce X Selina

Diana X Steve

Barry X Iris

Wally X Linda

Hal X Carol

Carter X Shiera

Oliver X Laurel

Arthur X Mera

Constantine X Zatanna

Dick X Barbara

Tim X Stephanie

Garfield X Rachel

Conner X Cassie

Kate X Maggie

Hank X Dawn

Garth Ranzz X Imra Arden

Nura Nal X Thom Kallor

Jo Nah X Tinya Wazzo

Val Armorr X Princess Projectra

Kara Zor-El X Querl Dox

Lar Gand X Tasmia Mallor

Demon Slayer

Tanjiro X Kanao

Zenitsu X Nezuko

Giyu X Shinobu

Digimon

Taichi X Sora

Koushiro X Mimi

Takeru X Hikari

Takato X Jeri

Rika X Ryo

Izumi X Junpei

Disney Animation

Mulan X Shang

Eric X Ariel

Simba X Nala

Tiana X Naveen

Tarzan X Jane

Rapunzel X Eugene

Hercules X Meg

Aladdin X Jasmine

Doctor Who

11 X Clara

Dota - Dragon's Blood

Davion X Mirana

Evangelion

Shinji X Kaworu

Fairy Tail

Natsu X Lucy

Erza X Jellal

Gray X Juvia

Wendy X Romeo

Final Fantasy

Zack X Aerith

Cloud X Tifa

Squall X Rinoa

Tidus X Luna

Lightning X Snow

Noel X Serah

Noctis X Luna

Fire Emblem

Byleth X Dimitri

Fullmetal Alchemist

Ed X Winry

Roy X Riza

Ling X Lan Fan

GI Joe

Snake Eyes X Scarlett

Garo

Kouga X Kaoru

Ryuga X Rian

Raiga X Mayuri

Gatchaman

Ken X Jun

Gundam

Domon X Rain

Shinn X Stella

He-Man (OG Continuity)

Adam X Teela

Adora X Sea-Hawk

Duncan X Sorceress

InuYasha

InuYasha X Kagome

Sango X Miroku

Sesshomaru X Kagura

Kohaku X Rin

Invincible

Mark X Eve

Kamen Rider

Hongo X Ruriko

Godai X Ichijo

Shoichi X Hikawa

Shinji X Miho

Takumi X Mari

Kenzaki X Hajime

Yuuto X Airi

Wataru X Mio

Tsukasa X Natsumi

Shotaro X Tokime

Ryo X Akiko

Eiji X Hina

Gentaro X Nadeshiko

Ryusei X Tomoko

Haruto X Koyomi

Kouta X Mai

Kaitou X Yoko

Shinnosuke X Kiriko

Gou X Reiko

Takeru X Akari

Alain X Kanon

Emu X Poppy

Sento X Banjo

Kazumin X Misora

Gentoku X Sawa

Sougo X Tsukuyomi

Aruto X Izu

Fuwa X Yua

Touma X Kento

Rintaro X Mei

Keiwa X Neon

Kingdom Hearts

Kairi X Sora X Riku

Aqua X Terra

Lea X Isa

Roxas X Xion

Riku X Namine

Lucifer

Lucifer X Chloe

Maze X Eve

Magic Knight Rayearth

Hikaru X Lantis

Umi X Clef

Fu X Ferio

Marvel Comics

Steve X Sharon

Tony X Pepper

Thor X Sif

Hank X Janet

Reed X Sue

Peter X MJ

Wanda X Vision

Jean X Scott

Kitty X Colossus

Rogue X Gambit

Rachel X Kurt

Black Bolt X Medusa

Clint X Bobbi

Bucky X Natasha

Matt X Elektra

Luke X Jessica

Warren X Psylocke

Miraculous Ladybug

Adrien X Marinette

Alya X Nino

Naruto

Naruto X Hinata

Sasuke X Karin

Sakura X Rock Lee

Neji X TenTen

Shikamaru X Temari

Ino X Sai

Choji X Karui

Gaara X Matsuri

Kakashi X Might Guy

Asuna X Kurenai

Tsunade X Dan

Yahiko X Konan

Ouran HighSchool Host Club

Haruhi X Tamaki

Persona

Yu X Rise

Chie X Yukiko

Kanji X Naoto

Ren X Makoto (or Kasumi if we're going with Royal canon)

Power Rangers

Tommy X Katherine

Jason X Trini

Adam X Tanya

TJ X Cassie

Andros X Ashley

Karone X Zhane

Leo X Kendrix

Carter X Dana

Wes X Jen

Cole X Alyssa

Taylor X Eric

Tori X Blake

Trent X Kira

Sky X Z

Doggie X Kat

Nick X Madison

Mack X Rose

Casey X Lily

Dillon X Summer

Ziggy X Dr. K

Kevin X Mia

Mike X Emily

Troy X Gia

Tyler X Shelby

Eddie X Vesper

Marv X Chloe

Amelia X Ollie

Ranma ½

Ranma X Akane

Revolutionary Girl Utena

Utena X Anthy

Rurouni Kenshin

Kenshin X Kaoru

RWBY

Ruby X Penny

Blake X Sun

Weiss X Marrow

Yang X Weiss

Jaune X Pyrrha

Ren X Nora

Qrow X Summer

Sailor Moon

Usagi X Mamoru

Ami X Zoisite

Rei X Jadeite

Minako X Rei

Makoto X Nephrite

Minako X Kunzite

Saint Seiya

Seiya X Shaina

Hyoga X Eri

Shiryu X Shunrei

Shun X June

Ikki X Esmeralda

Deathmask X Aphrodite

Aiolia X Lyfia

Yato X Yuzuriha

Sasha X Tenma

Koga X Yuna

Souma X Sonia

She-Ra (Netflix Version)

Adora X Glimmer

Catra X Scorpia

Star Wars

Obi-Wan X Satine

Anakin X Padme

Ahsoka X Lux

Luke X Mara Jade

Han X Leia

Finn X Rey X Poe

Din Djarin X Bo-Katan

Super Sentai

Ryu X Kaori

Sasuke X Tsuruhime

Chisato X Kouichirou

Shun X Miku

Yuri X Tatsuya

Yosuke X Ikkou

Isshu X Nanami

Mari X Ban

Sen X Umeko

Doggie X Swan

Sakura X Akashi

Masume X Natsuhi

Rio X Mele

Sosuke X Miu

Chiaki X Kotoha

Takeru X Mako

Alata X Eri

Hyde X Moune

Marvelous X Luka

Joe X Ahim

Daigo X Mikoto

Tokatti X Mio

Hikari X Kagura

Yamato X Sela

Amu X Tusk

Lucky X Hammie

Balance X Naga

Keiichiro X Tsukasa

Sakuya X Umika

Koh X Asuna

Bamba X Asuna

Shigeru X Sayo

Tarou X Sonoi

Sword Art Online

Kirito X Asuna

The Dragon Prince

Callum X Rayla

Amaya X Janai

ThunderCats

Lion-O X Cheetara

Bengali X Pumyra

Transformers

Optimus X Elita-One

Arcee X Hot Rod

Bulkhead X Wheeljack

Silverbolt X Blackarachnia

Ultraman

Ken X Mari

Voltron

Shiro X Matt

Keith X Allura

Lance X Pidge

Hunk X Shay

Winx Club

Bloom X Sky

Musa X Riven

Flora X Helia

Stella X Brandon

Tecna X Timmy

Layla X Nabu

#sisi's rambles #fandom #shipping #otp #agents of shield #arcane #arrowverse #attack on titan #avatar the last airbender #bleach #mcu #ben 10 #castlevania #my hero academia #critical role #dc comics #demon slayer #tokusatsu #kamen rider #power rangers #super sentai

[filet-o-feelings]

For your prompt ask, I'm gonna go with the obvious: slushy!

Thank you, friend! I definitely took my time getting that electric blue drink down so not really feeling any effects of the alcohol, but you helped shake some words loose. In fact, over 700 of them- way more than I expected from this!

So it's a bit of a college AU, and a meet cute, I guess? I'm almost tempted to continue this but I don't need any more active wips lol

It’d been a long week, and Patrick thought he deserved a little treat.

His professors had all seemingly banded together and decided to assign the most difficult and time intensive projects all at once, he and Rachel had broken up for the fifth time (or was it six now?) and his mother was having health problems (she claims it’s nothing major, but he worries). He’s made it through to Friday, and all he wants is a nice big cup of tea that he doesn’t have to make himself once he gets home, because once he walks through that door he plans to plant himself on his couch and not move until he’s watched enough mind-numbing entertainment via Interflix that he passes out. 

He thinks he deserves just one night of thinking about absolutely nothing.

He steps inside the convenience store and heads straight to the self-serve beverage area to prepare his tea when the buzz of the nearby slushy machine catches his attention, which is immediately drawn to the man filling the large plastic cup with the most unnaturally colored liquid imaginable. 

It’s not the neon blue slushy that has him so hyper focused that he nearly knocks over his own beverage, narrowly avoiding a painful interaction between his skin and the scalding liquid, but the man himself. He appears to be close in age to Patrick, perhaps a few years older, but he couldn’t be any more different in the way he presents himself. He’s wearing tight, ripped jeans, but Patrick gets the sense that they are ripped carefully and purposefully. His sweater (despite the fact that it’s the middle of the summer – maybe that’s why he needs the ice cold drink?) is nearly all black, yet somehow just a bit over the top. It’s a statement, for sure, with the large white lightning bolt sweeping across the front. 

He realizes the man is looking at him now, as he pops a domed lid on his cup and reaches for a straw, and Patrick blushes and turns away to add a bit of milk to his tea before capping off his own cup as well.

“Hi,” the man says, and oh, fuck, he’s even more gorgeous up close. Even if he's only moved a few feet.

“Oh, uh. Hi." Smooth, Brewer.

“Look at you with your little tea, judging me with my slushy. I’ll have you know I’ve had a very long day and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with treating myself to a sugary drink,” the man says, affronted.

Patrick smiles, “I wasn’t judging you, promise. This–” he holds up his tea, “is my own treat for a long week. So yours is a little more, dayglo? Nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Okay,” he says, and Patrick can see how hard he’s trying to remain offended, but the man is clearly having some difficulties keeping his own face in check, a smile creeping slowly up one side of his face while his eyes unmistakably light up.

Maybe that’s what gives Patrick the confidence to say what he says next. “In fact, I was hoping to take a walk to the park down the street and enjoy this, you know, to relax after my long week. I’m kind of hoping you might want to join me?”

The smile has grown to a definite full, complete smile and the man agrees. “I’m David, by the way.”

“Hi, David. I’m Patrick,” he says, reaching out to shake David’s hand, where he’s met with a jolt of electricity that he swears runs through his entire body,and for a brief moment he imagines the lightning bolt has somehow jumped off David's sweater and struck him down, but he's still standing and David doesn’t seem concerned, so he pulls back slowly, with high hopes that won’t be the only time he touches David and he makes his way to the counter where he pays for his tea along with David’s slushy.

“No, it’s my treat,” he insists when David tries to pay.

“Thank you, Patrick.”

Patrick isn’t sure if it’s intentional, but he feels David’s hand brush his shoulder as he turns back to the cashier, once again feeling that rush of warmth. He isn’t sure what this means, but he’s pretty sure his day is turning around.

#thanks for asking! #sc fanfic #david x patrick

[will-solace-aaaaa]

My pjo headcannons;

Percy: My baby boy🥺 he's so bi. Like, I only ship him with Annabeth, but he would def kiss a dude *cough* (Jason) *cough*. Loves Avatar the last air bender. His fav is Katara. Has 100% tried the water bending moves from her scroll.

Annie: She feels bi, but like, more attracted to dudes, but she wouldn't mind being with a girl. Can actually decently use a bow. Hates music. After falling(into literal greek hell), she got a fear of heights.

Grover: He is ally. He chipped one of his horns in the first war. He hates getting hurt, like he cries really easily. He has reading glasses.

Jason: My other bi baby, I love him so much. He and percy 100% had massive crushes on each other at the same time, but both didn't know. Struck himself with lightning for fun.

Leo: Bro would be down for anyone tbh. Watches Avatar the last airbender with Percy and Will (his fav is Zuko). Has cosplayed many anime characters with fire powers before. One of the richest people at camp.

Thalia: Slay my aroace queen. Ruffles Jason's hair and let's him bite her. Steals his glasses occasionally.

Piper: lesbean. Percy made her gay.

Will: He's so bi. I love him. Marry me. Plz. Nico don't have to know. He can join. Plz. Ily.

Nico: MY GAYBO. He also gives like demiboy(he/they) vibes. Ace baby. Is a dog person. Introduced Ceburus and Will (they love each other).

Frank: Straight but would kiss a guy in a non zesty way. Lost his verginity to a guy (was top tho).

Rachel: She's black😡. She would deffo be pan. Has RED hair, not ginger.

Hazel: She would be the biggest ally to Nico. Ever. Would hate Will tho. Goes to pride parades and forces Nico and Frank to come.

#pjo #percy jackson #headcanon #hoo #pjo hoo

[forever1kay]

DC Masterlist

MISC

The misc masterlist will feature characters I don’t plan to write about often. That list will be created eventually, but as of now we’ll just focus on the masterlists below!

-

→ Titans

This list includes characters from the 2018 series Titans. Works about Dick Grayson and/or Kory Anders will frequent more, but I do still write about Conner Kent, Gar Logan, Rachel Roth, Donna Troy, and Jason Todd. You can request other characters such as Hawk and Dove, Tim Drake, or Blackfire but they will be in the misc masterlist.

→ The Losers

This list includes characters such as (Jake) Jensen, Carlos “Cougar” Alvarez, (Franklin) Clay, (William) Roque, Linwood “Pooch” Porteous, and Aisha Al-Fadhil.

→ Black Lightning

This list includes characters such as Jennifer Pierce, Anissa Pierce, Lynn Stewart, Grace Choi, Jefferson Pierce, Khalil Payne, Issa Williams, and Peter Gambi.

→ Justice League

This masterlist includes Henry Cavill’s Superman, Ezra Miller’s Flash, Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman, Ben Affleck’s Batman and Jason Momoa’s Aquaman!

→ Young Justice

Including characters from the 2010 DC cartoon show Young Justice. Including characters such as Conner Kent (Superboy), Wally West (Kid Flash), Robin/Nightwing (Dick Grayson), Kaldur’ahm (AquaLad), Karen Beecher (Bumblebee), Jaime Reyes (Blue Beetle), and Virgil Hawkins (Static Shock).

→ My Adventures With Superman

Here I will write about Clark Kent/Superman. If you would like anything written about Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen, you can request it but it will go in the misc masterlist.

→ Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman

I really only planned to write about Clark Kent/Superman, Jack Milner and Jimmy Olsen but you can request works about other characters. If I fulfill your request, those works will go into the misc masterlist.

→ Smallville

Okay, you caught me! I haven’t actually watched the show yet. I’ve only seen short clips. For now, I only plan to write about Clark Kent. This list may possibly be updated after I watch the show.

#kaiaxdc #lovekaia #dc comics #dc universe #the flash #shazam #superman #batman #wonder woman #dc titans #doom patrol #justice league #aquaman #black lightning #arrow #the losers #young justice #blue beetle #static shock #my adventures with superman

[sxcredstories]

Prologue of The Book of Rachele

The rain fell heavily against the leaves of the trees, sliding off and splashing against the backs of the young Lycans rushing through the woods. They had their hands over their heads, trying to shield themselves from the relentless rain. Thunder began to roll in from afar. The Lycan children saw lightning up ahead. 

The Lycan boy with black hair and gleaming yellow eyes scoffed. They had to be faster, and they would get stranded in the storm at this pace.

“Hurry up, you guys!” Z’ev said to the three that were behind him. The wind picked up, and the howling began to drown out his small voice. “I don’t want to get caught in the storm!!”

“Catch up, Rae!” Tetra called out to the other girl in their little group. Rachele was much weaker than the other Lycans. Walking up the steep hill, she lost her footing and stumbled forward, waving her arms frantically to regain her balance. Z’ev watched the pathetic display, stopping to observe. He huffed with annoyance. He would've crossed his arms impatiently if the rain had not been coming down so hard. 

“Z’ev.” The other boy of the group, also with black hair but having blue eyes instead of yellow, walked up to Z’ev. Elstan kept his back to Rachele so she couldn’t overhear them. “Let’s just go.”

“Excuse me?” Tetra hissed under her breath with disbelief.

“We’re gonna get caught in the storm if we don’t hurry up.”

“Are you saying just to leave her?” Tetra demanded.

While they glared at each other in silent debate, Z’ev looked back at the struggling Rachele. His head jerked up when he heard more thunder, this time closer. 

“Let’s go.”

Rachele stood back up, regaining her balance. She shook her hair, the water damping her thick, curly hair. Rachele dusted the dirt from her knees and turned her purple eyes to where the other three were. She saw them walking further away without stopping. Her heart sank with fear. 

‘Why aren’t they slowing down?’

Were they leaving her behind, or was seeing them in the growing darkness just getting more challenging? She tried to walk faster to catch up to them, but her thin legs struggled against the steep hill.

“G-Guys!” she called out. None of them looked back. “Guys! Guys, w-wait up!”

Her foot got caught on a root from one of the old trees along the path. She tripped and fell flat on her face with a cry. She coughed, having gotten a mouthful of dust and dirt. She spat some dirt from her tongue and looked back up.

“G-guys!” She coughed between her words. “Wait! Don’t leave me behind!”

She stood back up, on the verge of tears, as their figures disappeared among the trees. She tried to run after them, but when she lost sight of them, she realized she was utterly lost in the dark trail in the woods.

“Guys…?”

The rain was picking up hard. Droplets felt like rocks on Rachele's dark skin. She pressed on, trying to find the others again. She tried to run but quickly lost her breath, and her legs became shaky and weak. Her lungs burned. Her throat felt like it was collapsing on itself. Tears mingled with the raindrops on her face. Fear suffocated her when she realized they had abandoned her.

“Guys? Guys?!”

A crash… and the last thing Rachele remembered seeing was a painfully bright flash of light strike the ground before her, burning her vision away.

Copyright © 2024 A.I. Benstayn All rights reserved. This prologue may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the author. For permission requests, write to the author @sxcredstories OR @sxcrednightmxre.

#sxcredstories #draftdash #writeblr #author #fantasy writing #queer writers #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #fantasy #writer things #creative writing #original story

[kathyprior4200]

Hestia

“In Honor of Hestia” (Camp Half-Blood)

“I am here because when all else fails, when all the other mighty gods have gone off to war, I am all that’s left. Home. Hearth. I am the last Olympian.”

Hestia is the Greek goddess of the Home and Hearth, Family, and the State, and represents the energy in all beings. She is the guardian of the spirit of hope and allowed Prometheus to give fire to humans. She is similar to Rhea in her good nurturing nature. Hestia protects every troubled mortal if they reach a city’s house or hearth. Hestia has appeared as a nine year old girl in The Lightning Thief with brown hair and red eyes with a brown dress and scarf over her head. She later appeared as a woman with a brown dress and black hair in ringlets.

What if Hestia had a cabin?

Hestia has a secret cabin behind Zeus and Hera’s cabins, via a discreet entrance in the mess hall. It leads to a simple brown cabin with a large fire pit in the center that never goes out. The cabin has modest comfortable beds and always stays warm. It has protective features and can repair itself. The cabin is the oldest at Camp Half-Blood and is usually only seen by certain gods and half-bloods that Hestia has a liking for. She allowed Dionysus to have the visible cabin 12 like how Hestia chose to give her throne to Dionysus in favor of a more modest life and to prevent any conflict.

Hestia explains that every mortal, titan, spirit, and god are claimed by her in a way. Her symbol is the hearth and she can make the glowing orange symbol appear over everyone’s heads. Although she does not have any mortal children like Zeus and Poseidon etc. everyone is welcome, claimed and unclaimed...even though few know of her cabin’s existence. Hestia is the energy in all living things, she is the First and the Last…if the world were to end, only the energy of Hestia/God/Source would be left. Though Hestia remains in the background as she prefers, she is the one that allows all the other gods, titans, and nature itself to exist. Even Kronos’ parents and Chaos are all made of energy, and Hestia is the energy of life. Every time the campers give gods offerings in the fire, she gets them by default. Hestia appeared as a girl tending the fire to Percy Jackson, though he thought she was just a nymph. She later guided the heroes, providing a safe space for them in the battle against Kronos, destroying Kronos’ weapon in her flames. She guides Rachel Elizabeth Dare in her journey to be the Oracle and helps Nico and Percy to New York City. She said that she chooses no sides in the war unless necessary because every living thing is precious and sacred. Hestia is beyond drama and conflict, instead seeing the good in everyone and having a mature, modest outlook. (Although, she wasn’t afraid to fight with her siblings against the titans) Hestia equally supports marriage and family and the decision for people not to marry.

Near Camp Jupiter, her Roman warlike counterpart Vesta watched over her secret devotees the Vestal Virgins, who keep the flames lit and the camp safe.

#hestia #vesta #percy jackson

[hannahhook7744]

Meet Noah Sage Napoleon Bradford Aoratos;

Fc: Jason Simmons.

Fic Title: The Marvelous Misadventures of Hannah Hook.

Nicknames: Sunshine boy, Sunflower, Sunshine, flower boy, Ghost boy, ghost prince, Koala boy, Koala, blondie, Sunny, giggles, smiley, Golden Guy, Goldie Locks, Musturd Head, Sun Ray, Yellow Fellow, Honey Head, Sweets, Bloom, Blossom, brother bear, boo boo, Zippy, Small Fries, Shortie, Charming, Minion, Huggie, Homie, Half-pint, Halfling, Dimples, Amigo, Bruddah, Bredrin, Brethren, Bitsy, and Baby Brother.

Sexuality: Unknown at the moment.

Pronouns: He/him.

Birthday: March 20.

Height: 3"2.

Hair Color: Golden blond.

Eye Color: Sky Blue.

Place Of Birth: Mount Olympus.

Hobbies: Playing in Haul's band, hide and seek, dress up, tye dying things, making flower crowns, playing house, running errands, braiding hair, making plants grow, watching cartoons, coloring, singing, dancing, treasure hunting, dressing up his stuffed koala, tea parties, etc.

Likes: Playing the lavta, bouzouki, the Harp, the lyre, and bağlama. Koalas, sunshine, flowers, foral prints, the sun, music, bright colors, tattoos, long hair, tiny furniture, flower suckers, talking plants, bugs, piercings, dress up, plays, stuffed animals, silly bands, slap bands, swimming, etc.

Dislikes: Needles, bullies, being evil, his friends sad or hurt, the dark, people trying to cut his hair, lightning, thunder, and Frollo.

Favorite Musicians: Vampire Weekend, Slipknot, Lizz Robinett, Fall Out Boy, The Offspring, Taylor Swift, Cher, Blink-182, Green Day, Iron Maiden, and Black Sabbath.

Physical Quirks/Scars: Sun-kissed skin, dimples, freckles, and soft features.

Family: Hades (father), Persphone (mother), Mal Fae (paternal half sister), Hadie (twin brother), Treycor Fae Aoratos (paternal half brother), Alex Aoratos-Sinclair (paternal half brother), Darcy Aoratos (parental half sister), Skia (full sister), Hercules (paternal cousin), Meg (paternal cousin by marriage), Herkie (first cousin once removed), Ariel (first cousin once removed), Urusla (first cousin once removed), Uma (second cousin), etc.

Honorary Family: Fiona Foundling and Hannah Hook.

Friends: The Stormbringer crew.

Pets: Cerberus.

Love Interest: Fiona Foundling (Future).

Optimistic or Pessimistic: Optimistic.

Introvert or Extrovert: Ambivert.

Occupation: Student at Dragon Hall and Junior/cabin boy of Hannah Hook's crew.

Extracurriculars: Gardening club, art club, Piracy, Ballet, band, and drama.

Favorite Animal: Koala.

Favorite Color: Pink.

Favorite Book: 'The Koala who could' by Rachel Bright.

Favorite Food: Sunflower seeds, fruits, veggies, and anything koala/flower shaped.

Favorite Drink: Pomegranate juice.

Favorite Movie/TV Show: The Wild Kratz and The Lorax.

Favorite Class: Artists and Thieves.

Background: Youngest son of Persphone and Hades, Noah Aoratos was born on Mount Olympus and was raised on the isle until the barrier came down when he was 10. He's Hannah's cabin boy and Fiona Foundling's future true love. He's also probably the most adorable, most sweetest person on the isle.

~~~~Playlist~~~~

"You are my Sunshine " by Christina Perri.

"Pocket full of Sunshine" by Natasha Bedingfield.

"Happy" by Pharrell Williams.

"Wagon Wheel" by Darius Rucker.

"The Kids Aren’t Alright" by Fall Out Boy.

"Thanks for the memories" by Fall Out Boy.

"Thunder" by Imagine Dragons.

Inspired by @thecaptainsgingersnap and @theinnerworkingsofoc yet again. Made to cheer @cleverqueenchild up. This one is for @cleverqueenchild .

#descendants #disney descendants #melissa de la cruz #noah aoratos son of persephone and hades #noah aoratos brother of mal #noah aoratos #Noah Sage Napoleon Bradford Aoratos #the marvelous misadventures of hannah hook #hannah hook verse #hannah hook au #my hannah hook verse #disney descendants alternate universe #descendants alternate universe #the meet series #child of persephone #child of hades #descendants original characters #disney descendants original character #descendants original character #disney descendants ocs #descendants ocs #disney descendants oc #get to know my oc #baby god #that's what he is #and he's adorable

[hardcore-lonewolf]

♾️Infinite♾️: A Teen Titans X Young Justice Cross-Over Preview (TUMBLR)

STORYLINE: The Teen Titans and Young Justice met up in Jump City during a mission. At first, both covert teams didn't get along with each other and refuse to form an alliance cause they're rivals. When these sixteen sidekicks find out their enemies were similar to them. The Incursion and Onslaught broke free from Belle Reve with an evil plan that will put those heroes in their place as villains. Will these villains succeed or will these heroes make the fail?

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Short A/N: I'm actually GlampireRockstar...I've been this profile since last year, my now ex bf and I broke up last year. I made this Tumblr and own it since day one when he wanted me to make him one. He can't take this profile cause I made it and built it with my imagination. He's such a jerk and I hope that bitch he's dating knows that this asshat doesn't care for others. I blocked him from my phone, got back my TV to cheer me up with videos and shows that I love, and took back my gaming consoles...yeah I was mad that day cause he's a cheater. I don't need him, being happy and single will be the best choice for me. I go by many pronouns like she/her and he/him, but I got a split personality that's they/them. I love people, though I love being friends with pride community members and straight allies. I don't need men or women, I got me...myself...and I.

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RELATIONSHIPS: Kaldur'ahm | Jackson Hyde X OFC (Wonder Woman's Sidekick; Trained By Katana), Conner Kent | Kon-El X M'gann M'orzz | Megan Morse, Victor Stone | Cyberion Technis (Alien Name; Inspired By "Teen Titans Go" Transformers Reference) X Koriand'r | Kory Anders, OMC (Black Lightning's Sidekick; Trained By Metamorpho) X Raquel Ervin, Wally West X Artemis Crock | Linda Park, Dick Grayson X OFC (Black Canary's Sidekick; Trained By Catwoman), OMC (Green Lantern's Sidekick; Trained By Captain Atom) X Zatanna Zatara | Phoebe Starr (Rock Star Alias; Inspired By DC Comic Book "Zatanna Starr"), Garfield Logan | Craig Wyld (Inspired By DC Villain For Surname; Inspired DC Comics Arc Of Changeling) X Rachel Roth | Abigail Constantine (Adopted Name; Inspired By DC Comics OFC), Simon Jones X Devastation | Roxanne Titania (Custom Alias Inspired By Deviantart & Tumblr; Trained By Circe), Mikron O'Jeneus X Selinda Flinders, Baran Flinders X Kitten | Catherine Walker (Real Name; Trained By Star Sapphire), Tommy Terror | Derek Beresford (Custom Real Name From Book; Trained By Bane) X Komand'r | Komal Brooks (She Was Disowned By Her Family With Her Twin Brother My OMC!Darkfire While Starfire & Wildfire Stayed On The Royal Throne; Trained By Livewire), Cameron Mahkent Junior X Tuppence Terror | Deborah Beresford (Custom Real Name From Book; Trained By Giganta), Leonard Smalls II X Rhiannon | Misty Kilgore (She's Now A Villainess In My DC AU; Trained By Klarion), See-More | Seymour Kennett (Custom Real Name From "Teen Titans" Series & Deviantart; Trained By Count Vertigo) X Jinx | Nicole Diaz (Real Name From "DC Comics"; Trained By Enchantress) & Billy Numerous | William Strayer (Real Name From "DC Comics"; Trained By Madame Rouge) X Tara Markov | Atlee (Watch "Teen Titans Go", She's That Evil & Lowkey Heartless Like Her Villain Arc In The OG Teen Titans Series; Trained By Poison Ivy).

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Hey guys, this is the fan-fiction I'll be posting here on Tumblr.

I got some concepts to do for my Injustice Short Story that'll be put on Ao3 later on in a few weeks.

With that said, let's get down to business and start with the plot.

I wanted to make names and describe better clearly rather than drawing them.

I have tendencies of using people's artwork and stuff that I forget to credit them for making them for their followers.

Since we know that fans wanted the Fearsome Five on YJ, I wanna make this inspiration by using these shows: Teen Titans, Naruto, The Last Airbender, Ben 10, Young Justice, Boruto, Generator Rex, and The Legend Of Korra.

Since we got the DCAMU designing versions of the Titans and the Team, I wanna give credit to Deviantart for having talented users create their own versions of our favorite heroes and villains from DC Comics to their original characters in animated shows or doing comissions as some requests for watchers on the website I love to death.

Onslaught is like the mercenary group for the Council of Light, the Shadows, and the League of Assassins.

Incursion is the fearsome squad for the Brotherhood of Evil, the Hive, and the Legion of Doom.

I couldn't find me a villain group name this year and last until I found the word "Incursion" on Google Dictionary.

It worked well for the enemies of the Titans and it fit perfectly.

Going to how I made my AU versions of these heroes and villains...Fandom, Wattpad, AO3, Tumblr, Patreon, and Deviantart were the best options I can get.

I couldn't find any names for four more characters to play as heroes...still can't even after randomizing them a lot, so I did a surname randomizer and name finder for all ages.

I know there's four known people within a group, such as the Elemental Benders (Aang, Katara, Zuko/Sokka & Toph/Suki), Team Avatar (Korra/Opal, Bolin/Wu, Asami & Mako), Team Alien Force (Ben, Gwen, Kevin/Cooper & Rachel/Julie), the Proto Squad (Herve/Rook, Lula/Ester, Sam & Kai), Team Seven (Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke & Hinata), the Next Generation (Boruto, Sarada, Kawaki & Sumire), the Hong Kong Gang (Circe, Squid, Cricket & Tuck), and Team EVO (Rex, Claire, Noah & Annie) for example...I want to make this happen.

I found my new props due to reading so much QuoteV fan-fiction stories and doing random voting quizzes online.

I want each original character to have some qualities and powers from each character.

The first one will be very good and simple...in my opinion.

The first OMC is based off of Sasuke, Kevin, Cooper, Zuko, Sokka, Mako, Rook, Kawaki, Tuck, and Rex.

You get mechanic skills, unstable mutations, crimson eyes, gear shifting, body modifications, weather manipulation, matter absorption, curse marks, corpse warpaint, advanced cars, rap music, hip hop, street fights, platinum bands, emo clothing, white bandages, rebellious acts, and other edgy stuff that a bad boy can do to with their edginess and being a former villain that redeemed himself as a good guy with rebellious tendencies.

His romantic interest will be Raquel Ervin aka Rocket I, because I believe this Beautiful Black Queen deserves better and my OMC respects different races; he hates people who's racist, discriminating others for their disabilities, and are phobic on pride community members; etc.

The first OFC is inspired by Asami, Sakura, Sarada, Rachel, Kai, Julie, Circe, Claire, Toph, and Korra.

You get some medic training, healing powers, spiritual abilities, elemental bending, savage roasting, chi manifestation, ancient weapons, futuristic armor, rock music, heavy metal, vintage piercings, dragon tattoos, motorcycle racing, gothic makeup, grunge clothing, diamond claws, etc, everything that a tomboyish demigoddess can ask for as a warrior princess of the deities and a legacy that slays evil monstrous titans for Mount Olympus while being part of Camp Half-Blood.

We know Kaldur'ahm aka Aqualad II is queer/polysexual, I felt sorry for him when his crush Tula didn't return romantic feelings for him and understood that she loved Garth till her death on Invasion; I gave this OFC a background of pride with pansexual/bisexual to make these two fearless leaders not turn into straight allies; they still got vibes that make the same gender fall hard for them; she's half Amazonian (mother), Olympian (ancestor), and Human (father); Kaldur will be part Atlantean (mother), Lemurian (ancestor), and Human (father); etc.

The second OMC is based off of Naruto, Boruto, Aang, Benjamin, Herve, Squid, Noah, Sam, Wu, and Bolin.

You get a legendary seal, alien transformations, prototype watches, sacred runes, camera flashes, military training, royal blood, talented artwork, humble loyalty, steel chains, blaster guns, booster suits, nanotechnology gear, industrial music, hardcore punk, alternative clothing, shadow cloning, black ink, golden rings, bad attitudes, and much good guy stuff that makes him the most important person in the world and would always be the person that'll help others as a true hero.

This OMC is special and went through tough times; he's the romantic interest of Zee Zatara aka Zatanna, I think she'll be like the Hinata Hyuga to his Naruto Uzumaki, the red string of fate will thread around his pinky fingers and will lead them together as one; he's having the Green Lantern Ring of Willpower and the Omnitrix for Seasons 1-2 through the Ultimatrix for Seasons 3-4 will fit him well; he's part Human (father), Meta (mother), and Naljian (ancestor); Zee's part Human (father), Angel (mother), and Pralagean (ancestor); etc.

The second OFC is inspired by Suki, Opal, Gwendolyn, Ester, Sumire, Lula, Hinata, Katara, Cricket, and Annie.

You get some pure magic, cosmic energy, shy tendencies, timid behavior, super intelligence, athletic flexibility, hidden secrets, domino masks, scene clothing, neon lights, soul bonds, tarot cards, enchanted agility, chakra sensory, mystic charms, good luck, pop music, silver bells, electric dance, living totems, mana flowers, healing potions, elite skills, astral projections, alien heritage, spell books, etc, she's full of magic and is the most caring being in the world that'll likely be the best girl to have for a lover.

This OFC has been given powers and skills from the following paragraph above me; she serves as a romantic interest of Dick Grayson aka Robin I, she'll be the one who comforted him from his family loss and help him figure out that Bruce Wayne is Batman; Dick finds out that OFC is a heroine who's adopted by Selina Kyle aka Catwoman when her parents were kidnapped and taken away; I love when Dick got powers as Deathwing/Deadman II in the DC Injustice film; I will use that when he gets fully resurrected in the Lazarus Pits from Boston Brand aka Deadman I and Rama Kushan; she's half Anodite (ancestor), Human (father), and Magen (mother); Dick's half Ghost (father), Human (ancestor), and Vampire (mother); etc.

I'm re-editting things on a laptop, tablet, and smartphone...this is hard work for me.

Let's get down to this case for some necessary AU prompts and concepts...by the way Magen is Homo Magi, meaning "super humans born with magic powers".

Aqualad II [Kaldur'ahm | Jackson Hyde]: Atlantean, Gargarean, Lemurian, Human, and Meta. Trained by Aquaman.

Superboy I [Kon-El | Conner Kent]: Kryptonian, Human, Genomorph, and Meta. Trained by Superman.

OFC: Amazonian, Olympian, Celestialsapien, Human, and Meta. Trained by Wonder Woman & Katana.

Miss Martian [M'gann M'orzz | Megan Morse]: White Martian and Meta. Trained by Martian Man-Hunter.

Cyborg I [Victor Stone | Cyberion Technis]: Cybertonian, Human, Apokoliptian, and Meta. Trained by the Atom & Red Tornado.

OMC: Osmosian, Human, and Meta. Trained by Black Lightning & Metamorpho.

Starfire [Koriand'r | Kory Anders]: Tamaranean, Almeracian, and Meta. Trained by Firestorm [Ronnie Raymond] & Power Girl.

Rocket [Raquel Ervin | Agnes]: Terminan, Genesisian, Human, and Meta. Trained by Icon.

Kid Flash I [Wally West]: Human and Meta. Trained by the Flash [Barry Allen].

Robin I [Dick Grayson]: Human and Ghost. Trained by Batman.

Artemis I [Artemis Crock | Linda Park]: Human and Vampire. Trained by Huntress [Helena Bertinelli].

OFC: Anodite, Magen, and Human. Trained by Black Canary [Laurel Lance] & Catwoman.

OMC: Naljian, Human, and Meta. Trained by Green Lantern [Hal Jordan] & Captain Monarch.

Beast Boy [Garfield Logan | Craig Wyld]: Human, Green Martian, and Meta. Trained by Vixen & Animal Man.

Zatanna [Zee Zatara | Phoebe Starr]: Human, Angel, Magen, and Pralagean. Trained by Doctor Fate [John Zatara].

Raven [Rachel Roth | Pride]: Human, Demon, Azarathian, and Magen. Trained by Hellblazer & Arella.

Psimon [Simon Jones]: Human and Meta. Trained by Count Vertigo.

Gizmo I [Mikron O'Jeneus]: Human and Coluan. Trained by Lex Luthor.

Devastation [Deva Blade | Roxanne Titania]: Titan, Genomorph, Human, and Meta. Trained by Deathstroke.

Shimmer [Selinda Flinders]: Human and Meta. Trained by Queen Bee.

Mammoth [Baran Flinders]: Human, Werewolf, and Meta. Trained by Bane.

Icicle II [Cameron Mahkent Junior]: Human, Necrofriggian, and Meta. Trained by Killer Frost [Caitlyn Snow].

Blackfire [Komal Anders | Komand'r]: Tamaranean, Cironielian, and Meta. Trained by Livewire.

Jinx [Nicole Diaz | Aline Haiden]: Magen, Human, Witch, and Genie. Trained by Enchantress.

Tommy Terror [Derek Ford]: Human, Zarthonian, and Meta. Trained by Blockbuster.

See-More [Seymour Kennett]: Human, Cyclops, and Meta. Trained by Brother Blood.

Tuppence Terror [Deborah Ford]: Human, Daxamite, and Meta. Trained by Giganta.

Rose Quartz [Catherine Walker | Kitten]: Human and Zamaron. Trained by Star Sapphire.

Holocaust II [Leonard Smalls The Second]: Human, Pyronite, and Meta. Trained by Savage.

Billy Numerous [William Strayer]: Human and Meta. Trained by Madame Rouge.

Misty Kilgore [Rhiannon Bleak | Arriachnon]: Magen, Human, Croatoan, and Fairy. Trained by Klarion.

Terra I [Tara Markov | Atlee]: Human, Straton, and Meta. Trained by Poison Ivy.

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I found outfits and edit them with filters on my other Tumblr page...from phone to laptop.

They're from that crazy Winx Club dream, I know their ages and order: Daphne, Aisha, Stella, Flora, Musa, Bloom, Tecna, and Roxy.

Pink = Nature/Plants, Red = Sound/Music, Orange = Light/Stars, Yellow = Weather/Elements, Green = Animals/Life, Cyan = Morphix/Water, Blue = Fire/Dragons, and Violet = Technology/Mind.

I'll be using them for a future keepsake later on in life, maybe for these heroines to tease their boyfriends and give these heroes a good show to watch as their girlfriends...probably so.

I know that these ladies will likely do some work and things, which leads for those chicks to get chased by their guys...like spending time in a hot tub to clubbing all night at a karaoke bar without their men there to keep their eyes out.

It's the life of wild girls and how bad they can be with these fellas.

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Comment down below and reblog if you want, see you later guys.

#dick grayson #conner kent #wally west #artemis crock #zatanna zatara #raquel ervin #rachel roth #garfield logan #kory anders #megan morse #jackson hyde #victor stone #kon-el #m'gann m'orzz #kaldur'ahm #koriand'r #young justice #teen titans #crossover fanfiction #dc comics imagine #onslaught #incursion #justice league #crime syndicate #heroes vs villains #dc comics #young justice imagine #teen titans imagine

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 11: GROVER GETS A LAMBORGHINI

"Did Grover win the lottery?" Percy asked swiftly this time when Rachel read the new one, getting his guess in first. At least if this was a game he wasn't getting out of he might as well play, and for once it wasn't about him.

"And buy a gas guzzling vehicle that's destroying his precious environment?" Alex looked at him blankly. "You really are the worst at these Perce."

"The obvious answer is he gets a magic lamb and names it Genie," Magnus nodded sagely.

Thalia busted out laughing, not having trusted herself to offer up a solution this time since she vividly remembered what led them all into those cars. It was hard to even pretend be mad at Apollo when he flirted with the rest of the hunters when she remembered him in that grimy look.

We were crossing the Potomac when we spotted the helicopter. It was a sleek, black military model just like the one we'd seen at Westover Hall. And it was coming straight toward us.

"They know the van," I said. "We have to ditch it."

"And walk the whole way?" Jason asked dubiously.

"I was going to stop and ask them for directions," Percy said with the pen in his hand. He still remembered from the last book something about Annabeth and a helicopter. That horrible premonition had come to pass, but it still lingered in his mind. If he had to get kidnapped to get to her faster-

Thalia socked him on the shoulder however to show how she felt about that plan, so he instead sighed and tried another answer. "I vote train again," he said wistfully, remembering Annabeth falling asleep on her bag, her fair hair falling into her face. Nothing bad had happened to him on one of those yet.

Then he grunted in pain and pressed a hand to his temple, glaring at his nose in betrayal. How did everything come back to smite him?!

Rachel started reading very fast to help alleviate that look away.

Zoe swerved into the fast lane. The helicopter was gaining.

"Maybe the military will shoot it down," Grover said hopefully.

"The military probably thinks it's one of theirs," I said. "How can the General use mortals, anyway?"

"Mercenaries," Zoe said bitterly. "It is distasteful, but many mortals will fight for any cause as long as they are paid."

"But don't these mortals see who they're working for?" I asked. "Don't they notice all the monsters around them?"

"Exactly how do you think the Mist works?" Rachel asked in confusion, rather than trying to call Percy an idiot. She really didn't know, she'd never been fooled by it.

He had been called that enough times he insisted, "they'd see strange things they couldn't explain and ask questions!" He'd heard the implied part of her question too and couldn't figure out why he was the only one ever concerned with that when it could fool half-blood's as easily as mortals about what was going on. Tyson had been under the Mist for a whole school year, half his child hood was filled with unexplainable things the Mist had disguised, but he'd always seen just enough to make him scared of the monsters until his mother brushed his tears away with a too understanding smile.

"If you pay a man enough he'll walk barefoot into hell,"* Will quoted from one of his favorite shows with one of those sad smiles that never quite reached his eyes.

Nico watched him critically for a moment, and Will whispered at once, "show on an old VHS tape hidden in the break room behind the orientation film."

Nobody had ever shared a secret like that at camp with him before, and Nico found an easy smile come out erasing entirely his unease that wasn't a crack at him.

It was the only answer Percy was going to get, and he didn't think much of it.

Zoe shook her head. "I do not know how much they see through the Mist. I doubt it would matter to them if they knew the truth. Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters."

The helicopter kept coming, making a lot better time than we were through D.C. traffic.

Thalia closed her eyes and prayed hard. "Hey, Dad. A lightning bolt would be nice about now. Please?"

But the sky stayed gray and snowy. No sign of a helpful thunderstorm.

"Did you expect anything else?" Percy asked harshly. His ire stemmed from a sudden certainty that lightning bolt was delivered, that Zeus favored his daughter when his dad couldn't bother to send him more than a stupid two word letter for communication.

Thalia gritted her teeth and forced herself not to say anything back. It would come out all wrong. That she still wasn't sure some days if it had been Zeus to try and strike her out of the sky and grant her prayer days later on Mount Tam. Percy had no idea how lucky he was his dad had ignored him instead.

"There!" Bianca said. "That parking lot!"

"We'll be trapped," Zoe said.

"Trust me," Bianca said.

Zoe shot across two lanes of traffic and into a mall parking lot on the south bank of the river.

Jason puzzled over that critically for a moment. Zoe at least trusted her fellow Hunters to take blind orders from. If she was helping the other side she could be doing more to delay getting caught. He felt he had no choice but to scratch her off the list, it no longer seemed likely if the General had offered her Artemis in exchange for Bianca it would happen.

That left him no more answers how Luke and the General had just appeared in DC with them, and it left him feeling queasy like nothing of this strangely parallel world ever did who the real stranger in the midst could be. Nobody at Camp had known they'd be stopping at that museum, so it must be the simplest solution that they'd just been followed the moment they left the magical boundary and Luke with his cronies had met them there too fast, somehow. Luke had once used Backbiter to open a portal, it was the last rational conclusion he had.

We left the van and followed Bianca down some steps.

"Subway entrance," Bianca said. "Let's go south. Alexandria."

"Anything," Thalia agreed.

We bought tickets and got through the turnstiles, looking behind us for any signs of pursuit. A few minutes later we were safely aboard a southbound train, riding away from D.C.

As our train came above ground, we could see the helicopter circling the parking lot, but it didn't come after us.

Grover let out a sigh. "Nice job, Bianca, thinking of the subway."

Bianca looked pleased. "Yeah, well. I saw that station when Nico and I came through last summer. I remember being really surprised to see it, because it wasn't here when we used to live in D.C."

Nico's smile was darker than usual. The smirk was really only for him. They'd been to young and stupid to put the pieces together subways didn't pop up like that, but maybe coming back had forced Bianca to keep thinking about it, start questioning things that distracted her, causing...

Grover frowned. "New? But that station looked really old."

"I guess," Bianca said. "But trust me, when we lived here as little kids, there was no subway."

Thalia sat forward. "Wait a minute. No subway at all?"

Bianca nodded.

Now, I knew nothing about D.C., but I didn't see how their whole subway system could be less than twelve years old. I guess everyone else was thinking the same thing, because they looked pretty confused.

Which matched, as usual, pretty well in here except the three Greek kids suddenly avoiding each others eyes. Percy and Jason were glaring at Nico more than ever, and he couldn't keep waving off how he got his memories restored while being a freak out of time forever if they started asking questions.

"One story at a time guys," Will swiftly said into the awkward silence. "I promise it is less confusing that way. You should never ask Connor and Travis for a story, they bounce around from end to middle to start and try throwing in three others, it's a mess."

"Right, yeah," Jason reluctantly agreed, but he again couldn't help but wonder how Nico knew of his home if his own past had so many questions splashed on it. He said the problem had already been resolved, but then what was he looking for in California while stumbling across another camp?

Percy nodded and turned back quickly though. Annabeth would have solved this puzzle by now if she'd been here while rattling off fun-facts about the subway again.

"Bianca," Zoe said. "How long ago..." Her voice faltered. The sound of the helicopter was getting louder again.

"We need to change trains," I said. "Next station."

Over the next half hour, all we thought about was getting away safely. We changed trains twice. I had no idea where we were going, but after a while we lost the helicopter.

Unfortunately, when we finally got off the train we found ourselves at the end of the line, in an industrial area with nothing but warehouses and railway tracks.

"I'm vaguely concerned they just let a bunch of kids get off there alone," Magnus muttered. It sounded like only the kind of place somebody would go to get away from the world and wouldn't be surprised if Percy came across a few people wrapped in ratty clothes and garbage bags out there. He didn't really want to know what new comments would be made about it.

And snow. Lots of snow. It seemed much colder here. I was glad for my new lion's fur coat.

We wandered through the railway yard, thinking there might be another passenger train somewhere, but there were just rows and rows of freight cars, most of which were covered in snow, like they hadn't moved in years.

A homeless guy was standing at a trash-can fire. We must've looked pretty pathetic, because he gave us a toothless grin and said, "Y'all need to get warmed up? Come on over!"

Percy's smile as all sympathetic and sad though. He told them with the same catch in his voice as he always spoke about his mom, "he seemed familiar, I don't know why. Like someone my mom would have given an extra free sample too and he tipped her a secret twenty in a stack of ones." Like a memory he shouldn't have just from her describing it, but one he'd swear he knew.

"We all find hope in the strangest places," Thalia's tone was much more quiet, pulled back in time. This was not the first homeless person who had taken pity on a group of kids she'd known. The last time she'd huddle around a fire was with Luke smooth talking his way into being the center of attention while Annabeth had both of their coats on and had been clinging to his leg. Thalia has used the distraction for a few extra sparks to help feed the flames. None of the homeless people had batted an eye, they'd seen stranger things, like the monster that had chased them away only a few hours later.

We huddled around his fire, Thalia's teeth were chattering. She said, "Well this is g-g-ggreat."

"My hooves are frozen," Grover complained.

"Feet," I corrected, for the sake of the homeless guy.

"Not the strangest thing a homeless person had heard," Alex assured. She was pretty sure even if she did go back and tell this story, some other guy at the soup kitchen would find a stranger one about the DMV he believed just as much.

"Maybe we should contact camp," Bianca said. "Chiron—"

"No," Zoe said. "They cannot help us anymore. We must finish this quest ourselves."

"I'm not even sure what else he could do," Will agreed with all the miserable energy of wishing that would change. "By the time he found out where you were to send another bus, it would be to late to make the trip."

"You need to keep moving," Rachel agreed with her own restless energy. Percy had always been great at that, but she smiled to herself as she realized this was a problem she couldn't have thrown money at to fix and help. You couldn't offer to buy the homeless guys car to get out of this. Her kind of problem she wished she had been there to help solve.

I gazed miserably around the rail yard. Somewhere, far to the west, Annabeth was in danger. Artemis was in chains. A doomsday monster was on the loose. And we were stuck on the outskirts of D.C., sharing a homeless persons fire.

"Thank you for that summary," Nico said sullenly, biting back the rest of the words that was the last good one he'd probably get. He knew Bianca hadn't made it to California.

"You know," the homeless man said, "you're never completely without friends." His face was grimy and his beard tangled, but his expression seemed kindly. "You kids need a train going west?"

"God," Alex muttered at once, not loud enough Percy could hear, but with her usual confidence. Now the question was which one, and what did they want for this ride he should know nothing about.

"Yes, sir," I said. "You know of any?"

He pointed one greasy hand.

Suddenly I noticed a freight train, gleaming and free of snow. It was one of those automobile-carrier trains, with steel mesh curtains and a triple-deck of cars inside. The side of the freight train said SUN WEST LINE.

"Apollo!" Jason yelped in surprise. Percy groaned and fisted his hand in his hair, but he felt that pain in his gut telling him the right answer had just been shouted near his ear.

Thalia smacked Jason and scolded, "thanks, we got that," while Rachel read faster.

"That's... convenient," Thalia said. "Thanks, uh..."

She turned to the homeless guy, but he was gone. The trash can in front of us was cold and empty, as if he'd taken the flames with him.

Will had never been very good at suppressing his good mood, he'd never tried, but he did with all his might now as he turned his face away and buried his mouth into his shoulder to pretend muffle coughs so Percy wouldn't see him swallowing laughter. He knew his dads touch when he heard it, and he didn't want to give Percy more of a headache by lingering on this.

He'd unintentionally turned his face right towards Nico, the two were practically nose to nose for a second as Nico's dark brown eyes glimmered right along with his. He'd clearly caught onto the joke and it took Rachel reading after his false fit was done to remind himself to turn away.

An hour later we were rumbling west.

Jason was still looking blearily at the book like he was waiting for the trick though. Yet another god had interfered on this quest. No angle? Didn't even appear as himself? Not even an offering in that trash can fire to summon him?

There was no problem about who would drive now, because we all got our own luxury car. Zoe and Bianca were crashed out in a Lexus on the top deck. Grover was playing race car driver behind the wheel of a Lamborghini.

There was at lest a friendly chuckle circling the room for such a mild use of the chapter title not apparently having bad consequences on anyone for once.

And Thalia had hot-wired the radio in a black Mercedes SLK so she could pick up the alt-rock stations from D.C.

"Now there's a useful skill," Alex nodded along.

"The one thing I missed about school, access to good music," Thalia grinned. She even risked wearing headphones now to stay up to date on new tunes when they weren't actively hunting.

"Join you?" I asked her.

She shrugged, so I climbed into the shotgun seat.

"What were you going to do if she said no?" Jason asked cautiously.

"Stand there awkwardly until she changed her mind," Percy shrugged with no real clue. Thankfully she wasn't that mad at him then or now as she rolled her eyes at the two.

The radio was playing the White Stripes. I knew the song because it was one of the only CDs I owned that my mom liked. She said it reminded her of Led Zeppelin. Thinking about my mom made me sad, because it didn't seem likely I'd be home for Christmas. I might not live that long.

Melancholy floated into the room like an extra wave for a moment as Rachel hesitated to long and swallowed that. Not one of them besides Percy could claim to have even had a good Christmas in recent times.

It didn't help it was the same time of year up there, and all Rachel could think was if her dad would bother to leave a meeting if he found out she was missing from school. He'd probably just think she reneged on their deal and was ditching.

Will had a smile as bright as any star though as he said, "well obviously you did live through it, but I can still say you haven't lived until you've had Christmas at Camp. Mr. D put's this massive tree in the center on Christmas Eve, he claims it's to annoy us and be in everybody's way, but then the kids that are there split off to decorate it all with anything we can get our hands on before midnight and Chiron lets us play songs on his radio, it's a lot of fun. Last year Selina somehow coaxed a reindeer into Camp and Connor tried to strap a rocket to it."

Talking about orphans having fun was still pretty depressing, but Will really made it seem like they'd forget that while being there.

"Nice coat," Thalia told me.

I pulled the brown duster around me, thankful for the warmth. "Yeah, but the Nemean Lion wasn't the monster we're looking for."

"Not even close. We've got a long way to go."

"Whatever this mystery monster is, the General said it would come for you. They wanted to isolate you from the group, so the monster will appear and battle you one-on-one."

"He said that?"

"Well, something like that. Yeah."

"That's great. I love being used as bait."

"I can see you now wiggling on a hook like a good worm," Alex snorted Thalia was more likely to shove that hook in Luke's eyeball.

"Glad you know me so well," Thalia nodded along.

"No idea what the monster might be?"

She shook her head morosely. "But you know where we're going, don't you? San Francisco. That's where Artemis was heading."

I remembered something Annabeth had said at the dance: how her dad was moving to San Francisco, and there was no way she could go. Half-bloods couldn't live there.

"Why?" I asked. "What's so bad about San Francisco?"

"The Mist is really thick there because the Mountain of Despair is so near. Titan magic—what's left of it—still lingers. Monsters are attracted to that area like you wouldn't believe."

Jason felt such a sharp electric tingle race down his spine he expected it to be Thalia shocking him for some reason. Glancing down he even saw his hair was standing on end, and that had nothing on the throbbing in his temple. He was convinced he could go slam his head against the wall to make it feel better if his legs wouldn't stagger him over to it.

Thalia did look over at him, all of them did which meant a sharp hiss of noise must have escaped, but there was nothing but concern on their face again for him. A stranger in every way. There was something about that making his mind fracture more, on a foggy peak where so many looked to him and his voice didn't croak, the speech he used to rally them came from Jupiter speaking through him-

"Jason?" Thalia had tried to shock him apparently, her choppy black hair was standing on end along with everybody else's as the static in his mind faded. He thought she'd just over done it like everyone else. He oddly didn't hurt though. Maybe he was in shock at such a vivid, specific memory he didn't know how to connect with anything.

Except she hadn't, Jason had been making such a painful noise in the back of his throat she'd merely touched his shoulder and felt the energy course through her and seep out like a conductor.

There was no doubt left in Thalia's mind as she flexed her hand and checked the souls of her boots while waving Rachel on.

She couldn't tell him now. Not when he was fighting the same memory glitches as Percy. She couldn't imagine guessing what right or wrong thing to say to him to help, she was barely making it with the friend she knew. She didn't know how he was even alive, let alone why such a place should have meant his death.

Jason was smoothing down his hair with troubled eyes on the book for more now that he'd stopped torturing himself, and she couldn't begin to find the words right now for her little brother in the flesh as her traitorous hand still longed to reach out and touch his face lest he vanish again. It wasn't possible.

But here he was.

"And Uncle Fredrick knew that!" Magnus sounded just as frustrated as Jason looked examining his own hands, if for an entirely different reason. "He wanted to just pack up and move her to a place she'd somehow be attacked even more often?!"

Thalia's grim expression only made it all worse as she silently wondered how Jason had survived there so long. Annabeth's fretting and worry in their dorm as she'd vented about her dad doing this to spite her, how Thalia had sat beside her on those beds and comforted her it was all for his work and Athena probably admired his dedication, but Annabeth didn't have to go with him.

She hadn't readily agreed with Annabeth's curiosity to join the Hunters to escape the constant disappointment of their life, but she hadn't been as vocal turning it down as she'd once been all those years ago when she'd first met Zoe. Annabeth was old enough to make that decision for herself where she wanted to spend the majority of her time.

Percy looked from Thalia to Magnus feeling as useless as usual as he wondered what other parts of Annabeth's life he had no idea about. She'd rather join the hunters because her own dad cared more about his work than her? 

"What's the Mountain of Despair?"

Thalia raised an eyebrow. "You really don't know? Ask stupid Zoe. She's the expert."

She glared out the windshield. I wanted to ask her what she was talking about, but I also didn't want to sound like an idiot. I hated feeling like Thalia knew more than I did, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Argh!" Magnus flopped so hard into his seat in exasperation it moved back a few inches. "I'm going to bash both of your heads together and suffer the consequences!"

"Come give it a shot man," Percy raised a challenging brow and a playful smirk, even beckoning him over with his own sign he knew quite well with his four fingers. "See if that'll knock the memories in faster."

"What do I get out of this head trauma?" Thalia asked, her mind clearly else where and distant in the halfhearted tone.

"Peace of mind?" Magnus groaned, though he obviously wasn't moving anywhere.

Thalia gave a hollow laugh. Considering her first priority when getting out of here was confronting Zeus and Hera to find out what the hell had been done to her little brother, she didn't think she'd ever get that again.

"I don't think the best brain surgeons in the world have figured that out yet, but let me know if it works," Will chuckled.

The afternoon sun shone through the steel-mesh side of the freight car, casting a shadow across Thalia's face. I thought about how different she was from Zoe—Zoe all formal and aloof like a princess, Thalia with her ratty clothes and her rebel attitude. But there was something similar about them, too. The same kind of toughness. Right now, sitting in the shadows with a gloomy expression, Thalia looked a lot like one of the Hunters.

"Literal foreshadowing going on there," Rachel busted out laughing and even applauded him.

"Maybe the homeless guy slipped something in that fire I was inhaling," Percy shrugged as he still glanced worriedly at her silver jacket. It caused a larger rock in his throat every time he pictured Annabeth in the same. The pensive, tight look on her face like she was studying a gravestone in the cracks in the ground only convinced him all the more she just wasn't telling him that part had come to pass.

Then suddenly, it hit me: "That's why you don't get along with Zoe."

Thalia frowned. "What?"

"The Hunters tried to recruit you," I guessed.

Her eyes got dangerously bright. I thought she was going to zap me out of the Mercedes, but she just sighed. "I almost joined them," she admitted.

Nico gave a sardonic laugh. "It's almost easy to forget sometimes you weren't always a Hunter, it's how I've always known you."

Thalia's bow appeared in hand, and Nico's heart skipped a beat in shock for a moment before she merely began twisting the silver wood about in the faint light. She twanged the string and murmured to Rachel to keep going, clearly this wasn't a memory she wanted to share anymore than necessary.

"Luke, Annabeth, and I ran into them once, and Zoe tried to convince me. She almost did, but..."

"But?"

Thalia's fingers gripped the wheel. "I would've had to leave Luke."

She wasn't getting a choice though as the smell of that bog came back, the broken branches snapping loud in her ear, pain flaring sharp in her arm that could have been their doom.

The Hunters had shown up just as conveniently as they did years later, silver arrows heralding their arrival and disposing of Lamia conveniently after Luke had nearly fallen victim to her seduction.

He had tried to win them over with his charming wit, but Zoe had been immune and pushed Luke aside to heal Thalia's broken arm that had stopped her summoning Aegis. Annabeth had been fascinated with them and been gung-ho to join, until she found out what it meant too.

Then she'd brought her knife out on them, making the two smile like proud parents as the child of Athena told Zoe where she could shove her answer.

Zoe had tried to insist on reasons to at least take Annabeth somewhere safe, the fight had almost become physical until Phoebe had stepped in and promised it wouldn't come to that. Zoe's parting words hadn't phased Annabeth, but the lieutenant had looked right at Thalia when she promised, "he'll let you both down some day."

Percy's were the first words she'd heard upon waking up that day. Annabeth's broken answer of what Luke had done were the last before she moved into her own Cabin, Zoe's vow keeping her awake all night.

"Oh."

"Zoe and I got into a fight. She told me I was being stupid. She said I'd regret my choice. She said Luke would let me down someday."

I watched the sun through the metal curtain. We seemed to be traveling faster each second—shadows flickering like an old movie projector.

"That's harsh," I said. "Hard to admit Zoe was right."

"She wasn't right! Luke never let me down. Never."

Percy swallowed the harsh words Luke had done plenty to Annabeth, just because she wasn't around to see it didn't mean it hadn't happened.

"We'll have to fight him," I said. "There's no way around it."

"This boy!" Alex made a motion like she wanted to claw her own face off with frustration. Or his. "Can you not speak every thought!"

"I cannot not," Percy fibbed, apology clear in his tone for his friend.

Thalia just looked miserable. That day on Mount Tam had helped her to see there was no saving him. She'd spent that trip west convinced she'd be able to save her family, and Percy would finally take a hint he wasn't needed. Nothing had come back as planned.

Percy wished more than anything he could do something for her, but he had no idea what had ultimately come to pass. What he could say that would make it better or worse.

Thalia didn't answer.

"You haven't seen him lately," I warned. "I know it's hard to believe, but—"

"I'll do what I have to."

"Even if that means killing him?"

The expression that flashed across her face made Percy brace himself to have an electric eel around his throat any second and still have time to wonder if he'd be immune to that before a shaky breath passed her lips and it faded back. Her bow was flickering in her hands, making a cracking noise threatening to break the blessed weapon.

She hadn't killed Luke, she hadn't been there when it happened.

But for one horrible moment, she'd thought she had, and that had never left her to this day.

That she didn't regret it.

That she'd do it again and hate herself for it every time.

"Do me a favor," she said. "Get out of my car."

I felt so bad for her I didn't argue.

As I was about to leave, she said, "Percy."

When I looked back, her eyes were red, but I couldn't tell if it was from anger or sadness.

'Both,' Jason knew from seeing that in here now. He didn't know who exactly Luke was to her, friend or more. He did know he'd personally stab him in the face right now just for making that look flash across Thalia's face again.

Finally, a fact about himself he was sure of.

"Annabeth wanted to join the Hunters, too. Maybe you should think about why."

Before I could respond, she raised the power windows and shut me out.

Rachel winced, and said in a breathy voice, "I'll pause for your excellent use of props there." Her uneasy voice was all for fearing Thalia was about to storm out of here from all of this being shoved in her face, but it suited Rachel well to keep Percy just as on edge about the answer to that.

 Thalia's point about his blunt words didn't concern Percy so much as the idea of being a guy. Was Annabeth unhappy? Felt unloved, without any true friend or family? He didn't know if he'd been enough for her.

Thalia remained in her seat though, swallowing it all down as her past fought to keep rearranging itself like a thread that wouldn't stop unwinding, one the fates kept tightening around her neck.

Luke brushing tears off her face as she cried on her brothers birthday.

Her brother beside her, alive and no idea who she was. 

I sat in the driver's seat of Grover's Lamborghini. Grover was asleep in the back. He'd finally given up trying to impress Zoe and Bianca with his pipe music after he played "Poison Ivy" and caused that very stuff to sprout from their Lexus's air conditioner.

"Can he do Firework on command too?" Alex asked eagerly.

"I didn't have a spare car to ask," Percy shrugged.

As I watched the sun go down, I thought of Annabeth. I was afraid to go to sleep. I was worried what I might dream.

"Oh, don't be afraid of dreams," a voice said right next to me.

I looked over. Somehow, I wasn't surprised to find the homeless guy from the rail yard sitting in the shotgun seat. His jeans were so worn out they were almost white. His coat was ripped, with stuffing coming out. He looked kind of like a teddy bear that had been run over by a truck.

"If he was going for a look Zeus finally wouldn't look twice at, I guess he found it," Nico said in quite a bit of admiration a god had lowered himself to such a state.

"Let's hope he never shows up to Camp like that," Will kept blinking in concern his dad was still going around in that getup and it was hurting his head more than if the sun were in his eyes.

"If it weren't for dreams," he said, "I wouldn't know half the things I know about the future. They're better than Olympus tabloids." He cleared his throat, then held up his hands dramatically:

"Dreams like a podcast,

Downloading truth in my ears.

They tell me cool stuff"

"The god of Prophecy gets his knowledge from dreams?" Magnus asked in concern.

"If they're anything like mine where I'm battling a tick in a forest of fur, he can keep his future to himself," Alex nodded, and those were her light dreams. Loki's made her dread sleeping every night.

"Apollo?" I guessed, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad.

"Your stellar deduction skills are at it again," Jason snickered.

He put his finger to his lips. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred."

"A god named Fred?"

"You know a cyclops named Tyson and you mom's dating a guy named Blowfish," Magnus said with a shrug.

"What are names but a choice of who we are," Alex agreed.

Will snorted and said, "say all the wise wisdom you like you two, I will not stop laughing at my dad, Fred the God."

"Eh, well... Zeus insists on certain rules. Hands off, when there's a human quest. Even when something really major is wrong. But nobody messes with my baby sister. Nobody."

Percy felt a bit chuffed at that news. He forgot sometimes that the gods, as unhelpful, useless, and even cruel as they felt to him, were a family. Maybe not a great one to their kids, but at minimum to each other. They argued and clearly didn't always like each other, but he found himself smiling all the same Apollo spoke of Artemis as he would of Thalia.

"Can you help us, then?"

"Shhh. I already have. Haven't you been looking outside?"

"The train. How fast are we moving?"

Apollo chuckled. "Fast enough. Unfortunately, we're running out of time. It's almost sunset. But I imagine we'll get you across a good chunk of America, at least."

A cold sweat broke out on the back of Nico's neck, his stomach churning already. The last time a God had helped Percy across the country he'd wound up in Vegas. A sure enough land without rain, the very same? Was it coming already? No, he had to have more time, more words, more pages...

"But where is Artemis?"

His face darkened. "I know a lot, and I see a lot. But even I don't know that. She's... clouded from me. I don't like it."

The enormity of the situation gave them all a chill in place. If any of them would have hoped a god going missing would have kicked Zeus's butt into gear, pitching his own battle and stopping this war in its tracks, it was dashed. The Gods couldn't find her, the rest probably wouldn't even know to look for her until it was to late.

"And Annabeth?"

He frowned. "Oh, you mean that girl you lost? Hmm. I don't know."

Percy tried not to let his resentment spike to high. He wasn't like Luke. He knew the gods weren't like this on purpose. They cared just enough it would get him to the end of this quest and survive another day, a lesser of two evils than Kronos who had taken Annabeth away and was using her for a pillar in his weird cave, bait, and anything else he could want.

I tried not to feel mad. I knew the gods had a hard time taking mortals seriously, even half-bloods. We lived such short lives, compared to the gods.

"And dogs live such short lives compared to us," Rachel sighed, "but we still love them every day of theirs."

"I think this is him throwing you a bone," Jason muttered, but his eyes were closed and he was kneading his forehead. Apollo was the one name he hadn't flinched and done a double take over in this Greek pantheon, and yet to hear all this still made his brain feel on fire.

"What about the monster Artemis was seeking?" I asked. "Do you know what it is?"

"No," Apollo said.

"Does he know anything to help you guys out?" Alex asked with plenty of frustration. Here was an actually helpful god, wallowing around with the best of them, and still not able to answer a single question. She could paint that annoyed pucker between Magnus's eyes all day onto herself.

"But there is one who might. If you haven't yet found the monster when you reach San Francisco, seek out Nereus, the Old Man of the Sea. 

Jason shivered, the name nagged sharply in his mind, even more painfully than Hylla's had. Like someone he might actually know in person?! His attention was riveted, he couldn't wait for Percy to wind up there now!

Both Thalia and Nico watched him with great confusion why he'd know of some old sea God.

He has a long memory and a sharp eye. He has the gift of knowledge sometimes kept obscure from my Oracle."

"I have so many questions about that entire info dump," Magnus said with a concerned look around. "Is he related to Poseidon? Is Percy going to start spouting prophecies? He's not going to show up down here is he?"

"No, no, and no," Percy said with whatever confidence he could, which admittedly wasn't a lot. He just hoped those were the answers.

"But it's your Oracle," I protested. "Can't you tell us what the prophecy means?"

Apollo sighed. "You might as well ask an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem. It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear through the search."

"That's a really fancy way of saying get wrecked," Alex nodded, "might have to borrow that."

"He'll be glad to sign whatever you like as long as you credit him as saying it first," Rachel chuckled, they had a lot of pleasant conversations that ended this way.

"In other words, you don't know."

Apollo checked his watch. "Ah, look at the time! I have to run. I doubt I can risk helping you again, Percy, but remember what I said! Get some sleep! And when you return, I expect a good haiku about your journey!"

"I would reread all of these books before I turn in homework given to me by Apollo," Percy said nauseously.

"I volunteer," Rachel offered with delight.

I wanted to protest that I wasn't tired and I'd never made up a haiku in my life, but Apollo snapped his fingers, and the next thing I knew I was closing my eyes.

In my dream, I was somebody else. I was wearing an old-fashioned Greek tunic, which was a little too breezy downstairs, and laced leather sandals.

Alex gave him a catcall whistle while Percy was looking a little flush and mercifully running his hand down his actual pants.

The Nemean Lion's skin was wrapped around my back like a cape,

"Oh gods, you don't dream of all the trophies you get do you?" Magnus asked with whole new concern. "Is that why Annabeth gave up that scarf? Do you dream of the minotaur?"

Percy opened his mouth. He wanted to say it was just a coincidence, but the words wouldn't come out. These dreams always meant something to his quest. 

and I was running somewhere, being pulled along by a girl who was tightly gripping my hand.

"Hurry!" she said. It was too dark to see her face clearly, but I could hear the fear in her voice. "He will find us!"

Rachel was really good at infusing dread into her voice like that. Percy wasn't even the one in danger for once and he still shivered and wondered if she'd ever done any acting.

It was nighttime. A million stars blazed above. We were running through tall grass, and the scent of a thousand different flowers made the air intoxicating. It was a beautiful garden, and yet the girl was leading me through it, as if we were about to die.

"The prettiest scenery in the world doesn't stop death," Nico agreed morbidly.

"I'm not afraid," I tried to tell her.

"Well we have confirmation this guy isn't you Percy, maybe just a reincarnation," Will snorted. "Same death defying stunts, you just admit to nearly pissing yourself when it happens."

"Thank you," Percy said, puzzled if that was a real compliment or not.

"You should be!" she said, pulling me along. She had long dark hair braided down her back. Her silk robes glowed faintly in the starlight.

We raced up the side of the hill. She pulled me behind a thorn bush and we collapsed, both breathing heavily. I didn't know why the girl was scared. The garden seemed so peaceful.

"Have you ever read Alice in Wonderland?" Alex scoffed. "Hell, I bet you've seen Avatar, I can list a million more examples. The pretty worlds are the deadliest."

"Remind me to never go to the Demeter cabin again," Percy nodded.

And I felt strong. Stronger than I'd ever felt before.

"There is no need to run," I told her. My voice sounded deeper, much more confident.

"No, no, there's our real proof," but Thalia's smile was as strained as it had been for hours now. She'd never wanted to hear of this in such detail. This was not a memory any other Hunter should have to hear if Zoe hadn't wished to share it. The cold girl who had sneered at Thalia for trusting Luke had never really seen Luke standing there.

"I have bested a thousand monsters with my bare hands."

"That's more terrifying than impressive," Jason shook his head. Hands were capable of both creating and destroying, but the tools were an extension. Someone bragging about doing that with just raw power felt unnatural.

"Not this one," the girl said. "Ladon is too strong. You must go around, up the mountain to my father. It is the only way."

The hurt in her voice surprised me. She was really concerned, almost like she cared about me.

Percy started shifting around uncomfortably in his seat, touching his ear and studying the book with a nauseous feeling. That voice, he knew that voice, but he'd never heard her speak in such a way, didn't think she was capable of it before now...

"I don't trust your father," I said.

"You should not," the girl agreed. "You will have to trick him. But you cannot take the prize directly. You will die.'"

I chuckled. "Then why don't you help me, pretty one?"

"I... I am afraid. Ladon will stop me. My sisters, if they found out... they would disown me."

"Then there's nothing for it." I stood up, rubbing my hands together.

"Wait.'" the girl said.

She seemed to be agonizing over a decision. Then, her fingers trembling, she reached up and plucked a long white brooch from her hair. "If you must fight, take this. My mother, Pleione, gave it to me. She was a daughter of the ocean, and the ocean's power is within it. My immortal power."

The girl breathed on the pin and it glowed faintly. It gleamed in the starlight like polished abalone.

"Take it," she told me. "And make of it a weapon."

I laughed. "A hairpin? How will this slay Ladon, pretty one?"

"It may not," she admitted. "But it is all I can offer, if you insist on being stubborn."

The girl's voice softened my heart. I reached down and took the hairpin, and as I did, it grew longer and heavier in my hand, until I held a familiar bronze sword.

Magnus shivered uncomfortably as Percy grew more pale. These dreams were never described for anything good, and there was a pit in Magnus's stomach this could be what Annabeth could be going through, some horrible mind game with intoxicating flowers where she was destined to keep getting hurt over and over to save a hero.

"Well balanced," I said. "Though I usually prefer to use my bare hands. What shall I name this blade?"

"Anaklusmos," the girl said sadly.

The name of that sword had been mentioned to many times to be anything else, Percy's death grip on it now only drove the point home as he looked like he'd been punched in the face. Chiron had warned him this sword had a past, Mr. D had said much the same. It was an answer he still had no idea what to do with.

"The current that takes one by surprise. And before you know it, you have been swept out to sea."

Thalia swallowed the snide comment how a son of Zeus would dare use such a weapon associated with Poseidon. Whether Hercules had been loyal to anybody but himself was not an ancient question she cared to think on.

Before I could thank her, there was a trampling sound in the grass, a hiss like air scaping a tire, and the girl said, "Too late! He is here!"

I sat bolt upright in the Lamborghini's drivers seat. Grover was shaking my arm.

Percy gazed at nobody in here as he tried for a strained smile, his groggy thought that had come and gone to slow back then. Grover would wish for the dream he had, and it rivaled all of the horrors of that cyclops cave.

"Percy," he said. "It's morning. The train's stopped. Come on!"

I tried to shake off my drowsiness. Thalia, Zoe, and Bianca had already rolled up the metal curtains. Outside were snowy mountains dotted with pine trees, the sun rising red between two peaks.

I fished my pen out of my pocket and stared at it. Anaklusmos, the Ancient Greek name for Riptide. A different form, but I was sure it was the same blade I'd seen in my dream.

And I was sure of something else, too. The girl I had seen was Zoe Nightshade.

"Whoa," Alex said softly, pity in her voice for how that must have turned out.

"I guess she did have her own past with a guy before turning on all of them," Magnus agreed with an uneasy wince.

PJOPJOPJOPJO

I know, big revelation in the middle of the chapter, but Jason had to react to that the same way Thalia couldn't keep denying who this guy is, it just wouldn't make sense any other way. I cannot wait to keep going with these two, even if I have to keep putting them on pause.

*If you know what Will is quoting then you have the same love of an old TV show I do. I still rewatch it once a year.

#pjo #Percy Jackson #reading the books #fanfiction #thalia grace #jason grace #alex fierro #magnus chase #nico di angelo #will solace #Titan's Curse #percabeth #solangelo #fierrochase

[dino-fart]

Guardians of Auris

Genre: Action, Adventure, Drama, Romance, Tragedy

Summary: Cassie and her friends aren’t your average teenagers, they live a double life. Teenagers during the day, fae guardians at night. They travel to another dimension through a portal every night to practice their powers and help another world against threats. What they didn’t expect was the portal to be breached and for the other world to come to them. It’s up to them and their mentor to stop the evil from attacking their home. It’s a good thing Cassie’s older sister used to be a fae guardian so she can offer some help...Right?

Summary + Cast | Chapter 1

Inspired By: Winx, W.I.T.C.H

Iris Connelly: 

Age - 17

Skin Color - Bronze

Eye Color - Blue

Hair Color - Black

Iris is the guardian of lightning. Iris is reserved and studious. She likes to observe people and figure out their situations. She loves writing in her diary and researching all about Auris. She is one of the two members that has never been to the mythical world. She is the one the group goes to whenever they are struggling with their powers. Iris is selfless and nurturing. Iris is an honors student and loves spending time in the bookstore like Cassie. 

Layla Thatcher:

Age - 18

Skin Color - Porcelain

Eye Color - Dark Brown

Hair Color - Brunette

Layla is the guardian of water. Layla is adventurous and loyal. She sticks with her friends rather than making new ones. She defends her friends to a fault. Sometimes even using her powers to get back at people who cause her friends trouble. Layla loves ballet and face painting. She loves the idea that she can transform into another person while performing, it helps her calm her nerves.

Cassie Levine:

Age - 16

Skin Color - Beige

Eye Color - Light Brown

Hair Color - Brunette with Purple Ombre

Cassie is the guardian of the foresight. Cassie is stubborn and headstrong. She is a natural leader but often bumps heads with Ellie. She is a planner and her powers help predict the possible futures. Cassie lives with her parents and has a difficult relationship with her father due to his narcissism. She often stays over at her sister’s house. Cassie loves horror movies and books. When she’s not at school, she can be found at the bookstore. 

Ellie Davis:

Age - 17

Skin Color - Ivory

Eye Color - Green

Hair Color - Blonde

Ellie is the guardian of fire. She is fierce and stubborn. She often bumps heads with Cassie. Ellie loves to fight and enjoys making people squirm. Out of the group she likes Iris and Layla, tolerates Stella and Rachel and is annoyed with Cassie. Her quick actions get her in trouble to where Luther had to revoke her powers for a week for her to realize her mistake. Since then she is focused on remaining calm and watching before acting. Ellie loves crystals and horses but only Iris knows this. 

Rachel Taylor:

Age - 16

Skin Color - Espresso

Eye Color - Blue

Hair Color - Red

Rachel is the guardian of earth. Rachel has adopted to an earth like lifestyle. She loves yoga and drinking tea. She is the calmest of the group and spends a lot of time with Iris and Cassie. Rachel helps Luther calm the group down whenever things get heated. Rachel is known to skip school quite a bit so she can listen to the roots speak to her. 

Stella Williams:

Age - 16

Skin Color - Warm Ivory

Eye Color - Amber

Hair Color - Black with Yellow Ombre

Stella is the guardian of stone. She is deaf and uses her powers to sign or form words whenever someone can’t understand her. Stella sees Luther as her father since her own barely speaks to her because of her disability. Stella often stays with Luther just to feel comforted. Stella spends her time with Rachel since their powers are closely related. Stella loves to paint mosaics on glass. She is the other group member that hasn’t traveled to Auris.

Benedict Cumberbatch as Luther Mormont:

Age - 1000

The guardian’s mentor. Luther used to one of Freya’s sorcerers and assassins. Luther’s primarily goal was to kill the previous guardians and give their powers to Freya. When the previous guardians defeated Freya and left, The Oracle gave him a second chance. Luther reformed and now works closely with The Oracle to train the new guardians. He is often tired of their squabbling and snaps at the girls a lot. Luther was saved by Daphney who healed his wounds and he saved her life in return. He had fallen in love with her but never spoke on his feelings. Especially after the tragedy of her friends.  

Freya Adler:

Age - 1000

Skin Color - Porcelain

Eye Color - Red

Hair Color - White

Freya was once the guardian of foresight. She was the leader of the guardians a long time ago. She was once good friends with The Oracle until she predicted he would imprison her. She betrayed him and all of her allies and transformed them into her minions. She later met Luther and the two shared the goal. That was until he met Daphney and helped the guardians imprison her. But not before Freya killed most of Daphney’s friends.

Daphney Levine:

Age - 30

Skin Color - Honey

Eye Color - Light Brown

Hair Color - Black

Daphney was once the guardian of water. Her expertise was healing. She was with the guardians at the age of 15 and explored many lands in Auris. The time came when Freya rose to power and her group fought her. She has first encountered Luthor and after fighting him she healed his wounds. Daphney is a pacifist and didn’t want to fight anyone. In return, Luthor saved her and gave her information on Freya. She had fallen in love with him but chose not to speak on her feelings. She was one of the three survivors after the final battle with Freya. Daphney and the remaining three imprisoned Freya and a few years later, disbanded. The Oracle called them back to Auris and Luthor offered to erase their memories. The three refused and asked for the gates of Auris to be sealed that way there would be no future guardians and wouldn’t go through the same horrors they did. Unbeknownst to Daphney, the gates reopened and her sister was chosen. 

Tagging: @deepbatched, @vikingqueen28, @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @alexa-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @deliciousfestsalad, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict, @ironstrange1991​, @aribas-stuff, @rianumochi

#original story #benedict cumberbatch x original female character #benedict cumberbatch character x ofc

[canaryatlaw]

alright, well today was okay. I woke up at like 12:30 I think and while on my phone I checked my email to see that my latest email was from the public guardian’s office requesting an interview. In case you’re just tuning in now, this is the office I interned in in law school and desperately want to work for, and was absolutely devastated a few weeks ago when they had denied me an interview. So this was a big deal. I pretty much started crying. The person who emailed me this time was not the same person as the one who had been handling hiring emails and had sent the email saying they wouldn’t interview me, this person I actually knew and have interacted with many times, though it’s been like 1 1/2 years since that happened. So I emailed them back my availability for the next few weeks, and then immediately afterwards excitedly sent an email to my former supervisor/mentor from this office who I had to thank for getting them to reconsider interviewing me. He’s really the best, he’s had faith in me from the beginning and let me work on the super high profile child death case that taught me so much. When I told him they’d said no to interviewing me he called the deputy public guardian (as in the 2nd in charge in the whole office) on my behalf and apparently it worked, so I’m incredibly grateful to him for that. I do have to wonder now though, idk who’s gonna end up interviewing me, but is there going to be any sort of animosity about the fact that I basically went above their heads to get what I wanted and get their decision reversed? I don’t think it would be taken that personally, or anyone who would be making the decision would be considering it, but I have to wonder if that would ever play into my relationships in the office should I get the job, but I guess we’ll just have to see what happens there. I just....I will be so happy if this works out. like all these months applying and getting rejected for jobs that I didn’t even want, and this was the opportunity I’ve been holding out for because it’s 100 times more preferable than any second option. so I will definitely be praying and doing anything I can to prepare for this. Anyway. I had some breakfast (leftover rice pudding from the other day) and then started tackling the challenge of washing the dishes, because I had done a significant amount of baking over the past week and letting them pile up so they was getting to be quite a pile at this point. So I turned on a podcast episode and got to work. It ended up taking about an hour to get through all of it, which isn’t bad because in the past when the pile has been really large it’s taken me up to 2 hours to get them all done. So once they were all washed and put away I started my new project for the day, which is the recipe for homemade twix bars that I’ve been eyeing for a few weeks now. it starts of course by making the cookie base which is basically just sheet of shortbread cookie that was easy enough to make, and then I had to let it cool before I could move on. So I went to the den and tried to use a link I’d gotten to watch the Michael Jackson documentary since we don’t have HBO but it didn’t end up working, but I already had my other laptop all plugged into the tv and set up and I figured I might as well use it, so I ended up watching the pilot for Doom Patrol on DC Universe. It was.....odd. I didn’t particularly enjoy it. I had heard some people compare it to Legends in that it’s more of a lighthearted and somewhat comedic take on superheroes, but I wasn’t really seeing some of the qualities I appreciate most in Legends that makes it work so well. So idk, I’m not terribly inclined to keep watching at this point but we’ll see, I may end up at least giving it a few more episodes to see if it gets good. Once I finished watching that the cookie base had sufficiently cooled, so I decided to get started on the caramel layer. Now, I’ve made a lot of caramel in the past, so I have a fairly good idea of what I’m doing. For some reason this recipe started with just putting sugar in a saucepan with nothing else in it and just let it melt, which I hadn’t really done before but whatever, so it says over medium high heat so I put it on, and before I knew it what had started melting at the edges had already burned, before even most of the sugar had melted, so that was unusable, so I had to toss it and try again, under lower heat, but the same thing happened. at this point I was getting irritated but I thought I’d give it one more shot, just over very low heat and watching it the whole time, and as soon as it started melting on the edges it was already burning, so it looked like this recipe was just gonna be a complete bust for whatever reason and I’d have to find another one to make it work. However at this point it was time for Arrow, so I would have to do that afterwards. Arrow was.....painful for me personally, lol. I thought Oliver was being incredibly arrogant and bullheaded trying to insist he knows better than the police when it comes to *actually following the law* when catching criminals. like there’s a reason vigilantism is generally outlawed, because it breaks the law and makes just about any evidence obtained inadmissible, but of course we can’t get into the actual realities of that on tv because it just wouldn’t work. so that was really quite annoying, but oh well. I was sad to see that apparently Dinah may have lost her canary cry, though I did suspect they were going to do this after her injury a few weeks back. So that was that. Black Lightning was on next, all around solid episode, no surprises there. I’m loving Jennifer’s arc so much, she’s such a badass (as Anissa is as well) and I know she is definitely going places. All of the family stuff was of course really well done and I always appreciate that. So yeah, good episode. While watching these shows I was going through my pinterest recipes trying to find a suitable caramel recipe. I wanted one with a solid amount of caramel since a lot of them just seemed to have a thin layer of caramel. I ended up going with one from a recipe for “caramallows” aka chocolate covered bites of marshmallow and caramel, it used the same dimensions pan wise and had a good amount, so I thought it’d work well. I got to work doing that, and it definitely required patience as these things do, and there was some close calls as the mixture bubbled up and I had to hastily switch it to a bigger saucepan, but we made it through and ended up with a solid batch of caramel, so I was pleased with that. Once that was finished I went back into the den and watched the news for a bit, then the beginning of Jimmy Kimmel before showering and starting to get ready for bed, and now I am here. So yeah, not a bad day. Tomorrow I have my interview with the public defender’s office, which should be interesting. I know I can sell myself as a solid choice for the position regardless of me not having that much experience with it in law school, but this is definitely not an ideal position for me and I would definitely have hesitations about some of it, but I mean I do need a job, but yet again now that OPG is back on the table, that changes everything. So I guess we’ll see what that goes. It’s just past 1 am now so I should really been getting to sleep now. Goodnight dears. Hope your Monday didn’t suck.

#daily journal #March 2019 #Rachel watches Arrow #Rachel watches Black Lightning

[zaritarazi]

jefferson: i’ve never seen a therapist!

jefferson: my dad died 20 years ago and i have been dealing with it SUPER GREAT

lynn: oh my god

#rachel watches bl #black lightning

[darkheart-brightsmile]

You Called Me Sweet

Barson (pre-relationship kind of) drabble, very mild angst, slightly fluffy, using the prompt - "H-how long have you been standing there?"

WC: 1277

***

“H-how long have you been standing there?” he asked, his face burning when he turned to the look at the door and saw her stood in the doorway, leaning to one side, arms folded across her chest, a small smile on her face. She looked as lovely as she always did.

“Long enough.” she shrugged, stepping into his inner sanctum, “you really went to bat for me, huh?”

He threw his phone down violently on his desk, growling some Spanish words she didn’t catch under his breath before stalking back and forth, his mind racing.

“We’re partners, ‘Liv. I’m not going to let anyone threaten you like that. If Buchanan thinks he’s going to hold me to ransom he’s got another thing coming. Slimy arrogant bastard!” Rafael spat, his eyes burning, his fists clenched at his side.

“In all the years I’ve known him, he’s always been like that. It’s why he’s a defence attorney. He doesn’t care about anything except his own reputation and having his clients found not guilty - no matter the cost to others.” she replied, sounding exhausted and unsurprised at this antics.

“That’s not acceptable, I’m not allowing that to happen.” he said firmly, slamming a hand on the desk.

“Raf, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.” she sighed, shaking her head.

“That’s not the point. He can’t make wild accusations just to try and torpedo our case. And threatening you, there’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. Does he really think your squad isn’t loyal to you? And that you don’t conduct yourself without complete integrity?” replied Rafael, his voice getting angrier and louder, echoing through the room.

“I think he’s betting that he can distract enough from his client to win. It’s not a new strategy, Rafael. We’ve seen it a million times. And sometimes it works, Buchanan is bluffing but a cop has cut a corner, and he gets what he wants.” she shrugged, stepping towards his desk and resting her hands on the back of the chair positioned opposite it.

“It’s infuriating!” he spat, his eyes blazing bright.

“I know it is. But please don’t worry about me. Worry about Rachel, and this case, and getting her the justice that she deserves.” she smiled gently, secretly touched that Rafael was defending her so vigorously.

“I’m always going to worry about you, ‘Liv. That’s what best friends do.” he gave her that half grin that made her knees go weak if she was honest. This time there was also something about his tone of voice that made her breath catch.

“Would it make you feel better if I take a step back and let Fin and Amanda take over?” she asked quietly, focussing on her own hands, and not his face, “they’ve been just as involved as I have. If we did that, would it help your case?”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” replied Rafael sighing and shaking his head.

“Would it help the case?” she repeated more firmly, looking up quickly and staring him down.

“Probably. I know I’d feel a lot better if Buchanan isn’t anywhere near you. I trust you but I would rather not have this hanging over us.” he grumbled, running his hands through his hair – a trademark sign of his uncertainty about the situation.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. If you’re free tomorrow, we can all meet, make sure this case is a solid as it can be, and that we win. And I will keep well away from it.”

“Are you micromanaging me?” he chuckled, tilting his head to watch her more closely.

“Just a little. But it’s only for your own good.” she smiled.

“I thought I was the one who was protecting you?” he replied again, moving from behind his desk to perch on the side, arms folded across his chest.

“Who said we can’t protect each other? Isn’t that how partners work?” she asked gently, her eyes warm and fixed on his.

“Very true.” he chuckled.

“For the record I think it’s very sweet that you want to defend my honour.”

“I don’t think anyone has described me as anything remotely akin to ‘sweet’ before.” he snorted, resting his hands on the edge of the desk, gripping the surface tightly, hesitance filling him as he was sure if she complimented him anymore, he would lose his mind.

“Well, you are, Rafael Barba.” she said quietly, as she stepped forwards, a slight blush gracing her lovely cheeks, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” he replied as smoothly as he could when she was stood so close, practically between his legs, her perfume wafting through the tiny amount of air between them.

She moved to press a kiss to his cheek, her hand coming up to clutch his shoulder as she did. In response he moved a hand to her waist, savouring the warmth of her body detectable through her thin blouse, one finger slipped under the fabric, and he could touch her skin. He gulped and closed his eyes and breathed her in, the feel of her lips on his now rough cheek, her fingers delicately curled into his shirt, her scent – subtle and powerful all at once. She was heaven.

“You want to get a drink?” she whispered; her face impossibly close to his.

“No.” he murmured, his hand tightening on her waist, the other coming up to stroke her cheek.

She blushed and looked down, sighing, “Dinner?”

“No.” he shook his head, pulling her closer so her free hand landed on his chest to steady herself, his thumb now tracing the line of her jaw, his eyes nearly black as he refused to look away from her.

For a second, she knew this wasn’t a good idea, it was a terrible idea. They prided themselves that despite their close bond, they had never allowed it to go further than that. But as he caressed her skin and stared at her as if she was the only person in the world, she knew that there was a reason she wasn’t pulling away.

He saw the flicker in her eyes as she had her lightning bolt realisation, and suddenly, their lips were locked together. She had never been kissed like this, passionate but gentle, he was sweet; he was confident, and loving, and so fucking sexy. His hands had moved to her lower back, desperately trying to clutch her closer, as if he desired their bodies to meld into one. And then when she felt his groan vibrate through her body she smiled into the kiss, and he pulled back.

“I’m curious what Buchanan accused me of now.” she whispered across his cheek, her lips nuzzling his face, Rafael leaning into it, rejoicing that this phenomenal woman was finally this close to him.

“Ironically, he accused you of being romantically involved with someone in the NYPD and you not disclosing.” he murmured across her skin, his lips tasting the sweet curve of her throat now and she sank into his body.

She looked shocked for a second before she burst out laughing and rested her forehead to his, breathing in deeply and relishing this new intimacy between them.

“Think we all need some irony in our lives, don’t we? Besides, technically you don’t work for the NYPD.” she replied, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.

“A technicality that I’m incredibly thankful for right now. Honestly, Olivia, I can live without irony if I can have you.” he replied smoothly and she smiled brilliantly, before touching her lips to his again. It turned out Buchanan had been right, though neither of them ever told him that.

***

@igreg04 @mhargitay64 @tinyboxxtink @lauchasstuff @nippow @chasingeverybreakingwave @i-run-with-scissors39 @barsonlover2021 @michael-rooker @alwaysachorusgirl @storiesofsvu @chunex @klk1618 @simpforbarba @dubuforeveralone @zizzlekwum @tinyboxxtink @human––tragedy @a-queen-of-chaos @raulesparza4eva @thatesqcrush @boredhufflepuff @321pm @giveyouakidney @just-vibin21 @talk-to-me-babygirl

I don't think I've missed anyone on the tag list, charming daughter has hidden my phone and it was saved on there and I'm using my laptop to post! I've also started tagging anyone who has liked or reblogged previous drabbles - if you don't want to be included I won't take offence - just let me know! :D

#barson #barson fic #barson drabble #svu drabble #svu fanfic #rafael barba #olivia benson #fluff #mild angst #barson fanfic