#that girl is BROWN in normal lighting and people insist she looks super pale there is no pleasing this fandom

[iminaworldofpureimagination]

maybe its cause im in my 30s but peoples reactions to that ian ousley kid .. Kinda.. Creep me out tbh..

[five-hxrgreeves]

I Won’t Back Down - Five Hargreeves x OC

Word Count: 1,982

You can stand me up at the gates of hell But I won't back down I'm gonna stand my ground Won't be turned around And I'll keep this world from dragging me down

1 |  2  | 3 |  4 |

Pt. 3- Monday, April 1, 2019

The morning of the first dawned with a bright blue sky and perfect spring temperatures, almost in  mocking irony of the fate it would meet later on that same day. Suspecting nothing amiss, Lola began her usual morning routine of getting ready for school. After brushing her teeth, she went to her closet and decided on a pair of jeans, a white, long-sleeved v-necked shirt with black polka-dots and after brushing her hair, hesitated over a choice of hats that she owned. While there was no strict dress code at her school, she did like to make a good first impression on Mondays. The rest of the week was up for grabs.

Coming to a decision, she reached for a yellow hat with a navy-blue ribbon around the crown that was tied in a bow and placed it jauntily on her head. The brunette was somewhat known around school for her unique accessories so she’d only been indecisive over which style she’d wanted, not actually whether or not to wear a hat. She then pulled on a pair of riding-styled boots and picked up her backpack, sliding her deck of cards into the back pocket of her jeans. Lunchtime was usually a boring affair so it was often when she would practice her magic- sometimes with a crowd to entertain.

On her route to school, Lola passed the familiar Umbrella Academy house and wondered what transpired within the walls, remembering the strange man she’d met the previous week. She wondered how long it had been since all of the siblings had seen each other since from Vanya’s book, it hadn’t seemed like they’d lived under the same roof for a long, long time. A smile flickered across her face as she thought of grown-up superheroes attempting to act like real siblings and the interesting, chaotic bickering that might ensue.

(Of course, she had no idea that such arguments might result in the end of life on earth.)

After that, the day passed as it usually did, with millions and billions of people completely unaware of what the night would bring.

--

Once dinner was over, Lola scraped her plate clean and set it in the dishwasher before turning it on to run, blatantly unaware that this would be the last time she did such a mundane action for a long, long time. Then, she made her way into the family room where her mother, father and uncle were sitting on the couch about to watch TV. Both men had their traditional after-dinner drink of two fingers of whiskey while her mother sipped on spiked hot coffee.

“Mom?” Lola asked.

“Yes, dear?”

“I’m going to the basement now, all of the dinner dishes are cleaned up.”

Her mother’s blue eyes- the ones she’d inherited- flicked to the younger girl, “alright, but don’t stay up too late. It’s a school night, you know.”

Her uncle grinned, “yeah,” he said, breaking to take a sip from his glass, “wouldn’t want you to show up all grumpy for school tomorrow.”

Lola sighed and nodded in acceptance, “alright, I’ll do my best,” she said, knowing it was more than likely she’d lose track of time anyway.

Moving first towards her mother, then father and finally her uncle, she gave them each a goodnight hug and exchanged their daily I love yous.

(She would be grateful that these were the last words she’d ever said to her family. At least she wouldn’t have to live wondering if her family had known she’d loved them.)

Then, she went to the basement.

Not even a mile away, the beginnings of an altercation were occurring at the house the size of a single block where the seventh, disregarded member of the family of superheroes was receiving a hostile welcome at the introduction of her new boyfriend, Leonard Peabody.

--

Lola liked her basement. It wasn’t terribly large but it wasn’t terribly small, either. Half of it was unfinished and the other half was lived-in, creating a perfect balance. In the unfinished side, metal shelves that one might see in a hardware store stood floor-to-ceiling with various tools and stored holiday items. Paint cans, electric machinery, extension cords and other items one would normally find in a shed were scattered haphazardly along the shelves.

In the other half, a carpeted floor of some green color stretched from the back wall to right before Lola’s writing desk. On top of it sat an old, brown-leather couch, a black wooden coffee table from IKEA and a TV hung mounted on the wall. After the carpet ended, removable foam-padded tiles formed the floor. This was the area where Lola’s desk sat which was a large, white table. The desktop itself was almost empty except for her half-filled notebook, three different-sized candles, a pencil sharpener and a pencil holder. Her papers- both for school and other things- were stored in a hand-me-down brown file cabinet that stood to the left of her workspace.

Before sitting down to write, the brunette carried out her ritual warm-up: lighting the candles, flipping to the next available page, sharpening her pencil and placing her reference books on her desk- The Book Thief, of course, and her new book from Vanya Hargreeves. Then, she pulled her deck of cards from her back pocket and placed the rectangular box carefully on the lower-left corner of her desk, making sure to match up the corners of the box with the outlined shape created by the corner. She wasn’t sure why she did this, it just was something she absolutely had to do before she finally sat down.

Once finished, Lola made sure to flip the electric lights off and returned to her seat which was a rolly-chair with one broken wheel. She began to write surrounded by her small pool of glowing, flickering light.

Today’s memory is from when I was six. (Note to self: find a better opening.) It was my first time at the store for hours on end. Usually, a babysitter would come by and pick me up but I suppose she cancelled. (NtS: get more details. Just kidding, nobody cares about that.) Anyway, I was super bored and since I was little, I didn’t have any schoolwork to do. I wandered around the store for a bit, probably causing mischief. Anyway (you already said that, dummy) the funny part is that I sat down at a group of mannequins because there weren’t any other seats and I must’ve sat so still that everyone thought I was one because when I finally stood up, a woman screamed. I didn’t know why at the time but it happened again when I was older. Then I started doing it for my own amusement. It was funny to see people think that I was a fake, plastic doll only to realize I was actually real. Sometimes, I even went to the back and dressed in clothes that would soon be modeled by the mannequins- although I think the effect was ruined because I didn’t fit them.

--

A story up and a block over, the altercation had grown to a full-blown verbal assault, the main four members of the family heatedly questioning the new boyfriend’s insistence on them coming to their sister’s concert. The seventh member, feeling hurt and angry that her family wouldn’t, just once support her, felt the tension build up within her, her emotions unusually high from the lack of medication she’d consistently taken for years until this week.

--

The spot was also great for people-watching. While Gimbel Brothers has mostly ordinary clients, there are some cases that are more noteworthy (NtS: fix wording, sounds awkward). There are many people who bring children to the store as well. On Mondays, there is an average of twelve children, usually after school. The number varies throughout the week until Saturday where there are usually fifteen or twenty. One time, as an outlier during the holidays, there were twenty-five. I know this because I counted them. I don’t usually do it intentionally and I’m sure I miss some customers but for some reason, all the numbers stick in my head. The funny thing is, I’m terrible at math. I’m also really good at cards, though. I’ve never lost a game of War or Go Fish. My uncle says I’m a counter, which I suppose is true. I’ve also counted all the sequins on one of our formal dresses, just for fun. There were two-hundred and eighty-six.

--

As the sky grew dark outside, the argument in the large house had reached an all-time high with Leonard Peabody outwardly insulting his girlfriend’s largest brother, inciting his anger and riling him up purposefully, causing him to throw the first punch. The seventh member of the family desperately tried to pull her boyfriend away, to save him from an assault that he would surely not survive. She was right about that, but there was nothing she could do. There was only one person Number One listened to and it wasn’t her.

--

Anyway, back to people-watching. There was once a rich woman who came to our store. No one could figure out why; we’re not exactly the high-end type. She brought her daughter with her, a pretty, blonde girl with bright blue eyes. Almost like mine, I think, but they looked better on her. I heard her tell Brittany that she wanted to get her granddaughter ‘normal clothes,’ except she said it like an insult. I figure that when her granddaughter came to visit, all she provided were expensive outfits and the girl spilled on them, teaching her the lesson of buying cheaper clothes for little kids. She didn’t say all of that but I made up the story to go along with her request.

--

Standing over Leonard’s body, the seventh member of the Hargeeves turned on her brother, eyes shining white against her pale face. In his hand, he held a bloody, glass eyeball. Her siblings crowded together, trying to calm her, but she spent all of her life being calm and she was tired of it. Turning her gaze to the academy, the building shook under a ten-point-zero earthquake, the bricks and concrete falling down in rapid succession. Tearing her gaze away from the sight of her childhood hell, she let sound waves resonate through the street, knocking over buildings and causing them to collapse, burying her siblings in rubble. Carelessly, she walked away as anger, sadness and hatred fueled her steps to her apartment where she changed and gathered up her violin for the world’s last performance.

--

She was very posh too, with fur and everything. She stood still long enough that I could study her coat, which had thirty spots. I’m not sure if it was real fur (if it was, she’s a horrible person), but she certainly acted very high-class, even speaking a little nasally and tilting her head up to look down on Brittany. I think it might’ve been because of Brittany’s skin color. The woman didn’t seem to be very accepting of hard-working people that looked different from her.

--

At ten o’clock pm, the close of the concert, sound waves so large they felled the building and many blocks over swept through the city. A short, dark-haired woman with a glowing white light in the center of her chest rose above the destruction, sending out pulses of sound to the far-reaching corners of the world. With no one to stop her, no one to shoot a gun next to her ear, the bottled power exploded from her chest sharing with everyone the feelings of hurt and neglect that she’d been forced to endure throughout her childhood. One person alone survived in a basement not much deeper than the fictional character’s she admired, writing away and completely unaware that the world above had changed beyond recognition.

[greenhanded-redthumbed]

Just A Small Town Boy

Clark grew up with his parents telling him how he fell from the sky. He wouldn’t believe them if it hadn’t been for the other things: that he’s strong enough to lift a tractor, that he can start a fire a hundred metres away with just his eyes, that he can fly. They tell him that he’s a miracle child: a gift. And that everything he can do just makes him more perfect, even if they have to hide them away for now. 

Not yet, they insist, they’re not ready for you yet. 

He accepts it, practicing to control his powers at night in the field next to their house. He wades through the wheat stalks that rise to his shoulders and is careful not to face anything important (he’d accidentally demolished far too many walls growing up, and even though his parents were more than happy to keep up with the continuous renovations, he still tries his best to keep everything in one piece). He learns to avoid certain bright lights that bring about a burning in the back of his eyes, to keep headphones with him for when his hearing runs rampant picking up anything said for miles and to always have an elastic around his wrist to keep him present and remind him to use human strength rather than super strength. (The Kents have an entire draw devoted to the elastics and other such trinkets ready for them to give way).

Clark’s gotten better at controlling his powers over the years, with the reports of alien sightings around Smallville dropping as he gets older. But he can’t stay forever.

He loves his parents dearly - loves the farm too, it’s the only home he’s ever known. And as much as he’d love to stay here, he can’t. He can do things no one else can, he can help people no one else can. But there’s not that many people in Smallville, and not much to save them from.

So he leaves, heads to the big city to pursue a career in journalism (because how else is he going to know who’s in trouble). Clark considers working with the police, but a quick read of the papers tells him of the high levels of corruption - all of them probably aren’t bad, but Clark has never been good at reading people and thinks he’s better safe than sorry.

His spotless record, good grades and glowing letters from his high school teachers is enough to land him an internship at one of the bigger newspapers in the city. The Daily Planet.

Clark turns up for his first day bright eyed, watching the chattering reporters move around the cubicles on the office floor - some darting forward with bundles of papers in their arms as they reach a breakthrough while others meander slowly and chatter greetings to their coworkers.

He doesn’t know what he expected - certainly not his own office and free reign, but maybe something more than cramped square metre cubicle with a desk crammed in (the walls of the cubicle barely reach his ears so the full-time, seasoned journalists can see if there’s someone to make coffee for them). 

Occasionally, someone drops off a list of some kind for him to grab files on:

“I need the profit margins of these companies on my desk by six”

“Can you get the M.P.D crime stats to me by this afternoon?”

“I want you to pull up all our previous stories on the mayor and check what our bias is.”

It’s not exactly saving anyone, but it’s a foothold as a journalist. He’ll get there. 

And he does - after a few months or so of perfecting his coffee-making skills and navigating the achingly slow computer he’s been given, a file is dropped unceremoniously into his cubicle. Clark pulls the headphones from his ears, letting the office chatter settle around him and turns to see one of the reporters looking down at him. The dark-skinned man would be shorter than him if he was standing, bulky and dressed in a neat, navy suit - Clark recognises him instantly as one of the more senior reporters.

“What do you need Mr. White?” Clark asks, one hand moving to fiddle nervously at the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s the latest manifestation of his fiddling - he doesn’t have his parents stockpile of rubber bands and always seems to lose them in the mess of his tiny desk. 

Mr. White, Perry as Clark recalls, “I want you to write this report. Twelve lines. Puff piece: local orphanage.” 

“Write a- write a report?” Clark stutters, surprised it’s not just another files request.

“Yes, Kent,” Perry White says slowly and Clark jumps at his own name, “You do want to be a reporter, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, of course,” Clark stammers, pulling the paper-thin file closer, “I’ll get on this right away, sir.”

“I’m not ‘sir’, Kent. Not yet anyway,” Perry says turning away. He calls back, “On my desk, tomorrow at five.” Clark’s too nervous to remember he doesn’t know which desk is Perry’s. He supposes he’ll just have to work it out when he comes to it.

As he goes to open the file, he notices a face watching him over the cubicle divider. A fellow intern, with long black hair and pale blue eyes that make her features seem sharper. Colder. Like she could open her mouth and freeze him to the core.

“Um, hi?” he starts, “We haven’t met, I’m Clark-”

She cuts him off. “A newbie.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s not wrong or particularly rude. Just matter-of-fact in a way his southern hospitality hadn’t prepared him for. 

“Yes, a newbie-” He replies with a grin. She cuts him off again by picking up the file from Perry and flipping it open. 

“What are you doing?” Clark questions, hoping he’s not going to end up in a fist fight with a fellow intern for this story. 

“Just checking this out, don’t worry,” she mumbles preoccupied scanning through the loose sheets, “I’m making sure the big dogs aren’t screwing me over.”

She looks up at him and her face briefly contorts into a smile - not a warm one, a happy one. A cold, practiced greeting to show no harm done, a I don’t mean to be a weirdo going through your files I’m actually a rational and normal person kind of smile. “But Perry’s right, this is a bludge.”

“Okay?” Clark replies, honestly confused by the whole interaction more than anything, “Well, it was nice meeting you Ms…”

“Lane,” she answers him, “Lois Lane, the top intern. That’s not an official term, but it’s the truth.”

He offers her a smile and a nod before turning his attention back to the file that has once again been dropped on his desk. It’s only two loose sheets, almost no info and a basic piece. But at least it’s him who’ll be writing it. One step at a time.

(When it’s printed in the lower corner of page twelve two days later, he cuts it out and sends it back home to Kansas. Ma and Pa are deliriously proud and request copies of all future articles. He doesn’t find out until Christmas that they’ve turned one of their walls into a display for his published pieces.)

Three weeks after his first article, a new intern moves into the cubicle next to him. (Ms Lane’s now one of the people bringing bludge stories and requests to his desk. She must have been right about being top intern). The new intern, Ms Lang, is a city girl. Born and raised in Metropolis. But she has a warmth that reminds him of home. Warm brown skin and wavy brown hair and warm brown eyes that seem to shine when she smiles.

He’s more than a bit enraptured. 

She leans over half way through her first day to talk to him. “So, how long have you been an intern here?”

He grins back and the office fluorescents suddenly shift to the warm summer sun reflected off the wheat fields. “Almost five months now.” 

“Huh, good to know,” she replies and he notices her nails are painted the same shade of pink as her dress. 

“Why’s that?” he asks before she can disappear back into her cubicle.

“Because on my tour round here I heard you were the new top intern. And I want to get there faster than you.” Then she’s gone, back to becoming the hardest working journalist of Metropolis.

It took Clark a moment to let her words sink in. He knew the Daily Planet requires journalists to show their replacements around. He cranes his head over the wall of his cubicle and catches sight of Ms Lane on the other side of the floor. She’s arguing with a colleague over something or other and doesn’t so much as glance at him. It’s kind of surprising that she thinks so highly of him. It’s also kind of the best.

It’s around this time he makes his first appearance as superman. He puts on the suit his father left him (the one Pa and Ma kept for him until he turned sixteen) and sets out to help people. It’s strange, giving in to the sounds and sights and smells he’s been blocking out all his life. He can hear the whole city buzzing beneath him as he floats above it, tuning in and out of conversations like a radio.

He decides to start small - he picks cats out of trees, clears trees off of roads and flies the dying to the hospital at super speed. An alien in primary colours zipping around the city catches the attention of the Daily Planet pretty quickly. He reads the article one of the reporters, Mr John Corben, writes on him and is happy to see it’s mostly good (wary, but still praising his actions).

Clark steps up his attempts at heroism - he now shows up to confront active shooters and floats above witnesses for particularly nasty cases. Praise starts getting thrown his way, with t-shirts and fan-blogs. They treat him like a celebrity.

Then his first supervillain arrives. He calls himself the Ultra-humanite and the papers obligingly print it in their headlands ‘Superman vs Ultra-humanite: Shocking Defeat for the Man of Steel’. The Ultra-humanite - Clark doesn’t even know his real name - isn’t like the regular street thugs and gun-wielding cowards. He can’t match Clark physically, so he does it mentally. He outsmarts Clark at every turn with automations and traps and a thousand other misdirections. 

The Ultra-humanite also introduces Clark to a new weakness: a small, almost fluorescent green rock he calls Kryptonite. It leaves him weak and dizzy. All the hyperawareness sinking away as the world dulls and blurs. He can safely say he doesn’t like it.

It dawns on him that he’ll need help. So he turns to the person he thinks he can trust. 

“Right,” Lana says slowly as he hovers in front of her, work shirt unbuttoned to show his famous emblem, “So you’re the superman with the superpowers who wants help taking down a supervillain. Super.” 

“You don’t have to be apart of the fighting or anything,” he assures her, “I just need a plan or something to get the upper hand on him.”

They’re on the roof of the Daily Planet. It’s the only place he could think of that wouldn’t have security cameras or be too suspicious to visit. Enough people still smoke to make it an acceptable break spot.

“You want me to outsmart a supervillain. Outsmart a supersmart evil genius supervillain.”

“Or help, just offer any insight,” Clark says, bringing himself back to the floor and doing up his shirt. That seems to calm Lana down, and she tilts her head slightly, gazing dazedly out at the horizon

It takes her a minute, but when she looks at him again he knows he made the right decision to come to her. “So he’s found ways to outsmart all your super powers.” Lana starts slowly, “Because he studied Superman.”

“I guess so,” Clark says.

“So,” Lana continues, “Use your abilities as Clark Kent. The ones he doesn’t know about. Track him down in his lair like a reporter - with paper trails and good old investigation.”

He does, tracks down all the stores that sell the fancy equipment the Ultra-humanite - a man, Clark learns through his investigation, who is called by the far-less threatening name of Gerard Shugel - and traces the sales back to accounts and addresses. 

He finds Shugel’s lair, crashing in dressed in full Superman regalia to see that very man tinkering on his next trap. It’s easy for Clark to apprehend him on his own turf. Just carrying him to the police station and leaving his address for them to search through. Clark was raised to believe that everything gets easier with practice, so he knows he’ll be ready for the next supervillain to threaten his city. And he knows he has someone to turn to when he gets out of his depth. 

 After a year of intern work, Clark finally gets a position as a full-blooded journalist. (Investigative, which is the same department as Ms. Lane. There are some whispers going around that two newbies handling a department is risky business, but those are shut down by an icy blue glare.)

They work side by side in matching offices, with Clark dibsing the police corruption case. (Which Ms. Lane thinks is undignified but lets him have it so she can keep working on her inquiring into the company practices of one of Metropolis’ largest businesses. Something called Lexcorp.)

Lana inherits the role of top intern, a placement which Clark confidently informs his replacement of. He knows it’s not long until she’s on the detective side of the office and looks forward to it.

He knows that the people are ready for him now. And more importantly, he’s ready for them.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

What the Rain Can’t Wash Away- Chapter 1

*FINAL PIECE IN THE LOOK IN HER EYES TRILOGY*

Sixteen years after Lucifer rose, and Dean lost his wife he finds himself with a teenager, a Nephilim, an angel, and his brother living out a Full House rerun with some seriously dark undertones. How will he be able to raise his daughter, fight monsters, and deal with the loss of the love of his life? Sometimes moving on is the hardest part, but with the Winchester’s there’s always something harder around the corner. Isn’t there?

Chapter One, The Little Town Full of Little People

Dean 

The air smelled like popcorn, corn dogs, and hay. Little kids scurried along the streets of downtown Lebanon wearing their Halloween costumes, squealing. Claire wore a witch hat, despite her insistence of not wanting to dress up. That was the thing about falling in love, it makes you do crazy things. I should know, Nel had me, Sam, and Cas dressed up as the Ghost Busters. 

  “I feel ridiculous,” I complained as Nel snapped me into my back pack. 

  “Well I worked hard on these costumes, so get over it.”

  “And what are you?”

  She rolled her eyes, pointing to her pale face paint. “Jackie and I are obviously ghosts?”

  Of course. What was I thinking?

“Look What Ellie got me!” Jack exclaimed, showing us the cotton candy in his hand. “It is delicious.”

 “I’ll say.” I grinned, plucking a piece of the pink fluff and sticking it in my mouth. 

 “She has very good taste,” Jack said with a nod.

 “Come here, Jackie!” Nel said, waiving him over to one of the games. It was pumpkin painting. “Want to do one?”

 “Oh yes!” He said with a gleam in his eye. The three kids huddled around the pumpkins. Nel and Jack painted while Claire instructed Jack on creepy paint ideas. 

 Cas, Sam, and I hung back. “She had a dream,” I said low to them.

 “What do you mean?”

 “It’s like we had the same dream last night. Like she was tapped into my head,” I glanced to Sam. 

 “That’s...oh,” Sam said with a frown. “You think its a psychic thing?”

 “Don’t you?”

 Cas raised an eyebrow. “They do not mention this in the parenting books.” 

 “We already have one super powered kid burning off his soul.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “And another that’s a reckless hunter,” I sighed. “Pretty sure they don’t cover any of this.”

 “Maybe she could be helpful with our current predicament,” Castiel offered, eyeing me.

 “No way. I don’t want her in my head, Cas. It’s a fucking mess in there.” 

 “I mean, Cas has a point. You saw how powerful I was.” 

 “This isn’t a conversation we are having,” I huffed. “You also saw what happened. You had to juice up to do all of that and we sure as shit aren’t doing that to my daughter. She deserves to be normal.” I watched her painting on the pumpkin. She threw her head back and laughed at something that Jack said. They looked happy. Fuck, she deserved to be happy.

 “You brought it up, man.”

 “Because I am worried, not because I want to use her as a weapon. We’ve been watching her her whole life... and yours didn’t show up until you were twenty three. Why is hers happening now?”

 “She’s a wild card, Dean. We’ve always known that she ingested more than I ever did,” Sam said carefully. “We don’t know what she’s capable of. Maybe its coming out from all the stress.” 

 I shook my head. “So it’s my fault.” 

 “I didn’t say that.” 

 “You didn’t have to.” 

 Nel turned to me, catching me watching. She waved at me. 

 I winked back at her. My daughter, the light of my fucking life. All I wanted was for her to have a normal life. I worked my ass off for that, but I always knew in the back of my head that she wouldn’t be able to be normal. How could she after everything we’ve been through? After the name she was given. Winchester. It was like the kiss of death. 

 She whispered something in Claire’s ear, and she turned to look at me. I shrugged. I wasn’t gonna apologize for watching her. Ever since she was a baby I couldn’t look at her enough. She looked like Ava in the way that she moved, and laughed, in her nose, and her eyes in the right light. She was everything. Even though I knew I’d have to say goodbye I wasn’t ready. How could I ever be?

  “We should just watch her. Ya know?” I said carefully. “And when I go under, you two need to watch her too. We can’t let these kids go dark side. No matter what.” I turned away. 

 “Dean where are you going?”

 “Getting a beer, Sammy. Don’t worry. I promised her a nice day. I don’t break promises to my kid if I can avoid it.” 

 I walked away. My feet crunching leaves as I walked down Main Street to the vender selling beer off the tap. 

 “Hey! Dean!” 

 I turned to find Cami, the waitress from The Little Pancake, jogging to me. 

 “Hey.” I forced a smile, taking my beer. “You, uh, want a drink?”

 “Sure.” She smiled widely, pushing her red hair behind her ear. I’d never seen it down before, it had a nice wave to it. 

 I nodded to the bartender. “We will take another of the same thing,” I said, sitting some cash down. The man handed us a another cup and I offered it to her. 

 “Thank you so much,” she said, her cheeks pink. “You here with Eleanor?”

 “Yeah,” I said with a laugh. “Wouldn’t dress like this on my own.” I gestured to the costume.

 “She’s spirited.” Cami laughed.

 “That’s an understatement.” 

 “What about you?”

 “Oh, I’m here alone,” she said nervously. Her cheeks were painted to look like a cats face. 

 I smiled a bit. “So no one is forcing you into face paint?”

 “Oh! This?” Her cheeks grew even more red. “No, I just saw one of the kids that always comes into the diner... and she was doing the paint and offered. Does it look terrible?”

 “Nah,” I said with a shrug. “It’s cute. Nel used to paint my face, too.” 

 Cami smiled to herself and sipped her beer. “She’s a special girl. You two seem very close.” 

 “We are,” I agreed, taking a swig of my own beer. “Always have been.” 

 “Most dads that I see come in with their daughters seem so awkward. They’re both on their phones, but you two never are. It’s nice.” 

 I smiled at her, noticing the sun catching a gold fleck in her brown eyes. “Didn’t know you paid that close of attention.”

 “Of course I do,” she said gently. 

 “Hey Dad, I,” Nel said, jogging up holding her pumpkin. “Oh, hi Cami.” 

 I turned to my daughter to catch her grinning from ear to ear. I internally sighed, realizing what this must look like. “It was nice talking to you, Cami,” I said forcing a smile.

 “You too, Dean,” she responded quietly, with a small smile. “Thanks for the beer.”

 “Anytime,” I said with a shrug. I walked to Nel and threw my arm over her shoulder. “Let’s see the pumpkin.” 

 She showed it to me, it was black and white striped with green paint dripping down it. “Beetlejuice.” I grinned. “That’s my girl.” 

 She leaned into me. “Sorry to interrupt you two.”

 “You didn’t. She was just saying hi. We were actually talking about you.” I glanced at her. 

 “We need to practice talking to girls, Dad.” She laughed.

 “Nah, you’re the only girl I need to talk to,” I said, placing a kiss on the top of her head. 

 “Why do you do that?” She asked me, stopping us. 

 “Do what?” 

 “Refuse to be happy?” 

 “I’m not refusing, kid. All things considered, I am happy. I don’t need to be in a relationship to be full.” I pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’ve had my great love. Don’t really need another one.” Plus, that’s just one more person to disappoint. One more person to miss me when I’m in the coffin. 

 “You really think there’s only one person out there? You don’t think we get more than one chance.” 

 I smiled down at her. “For you, sweetheart, you will get a million chances. You’re good. For me? Nah. It was your mom. Period, end of story, roll credits. I’m okay with that. You don’t need to worry about me,” I said, beginning to walk again. Ending the conversation. How could I explain to her that I never wanted any of this? I never let myself want the apple pie life. The marriage, the kid, the home. With Ava I just had a taste, more than I ever deserved. I saw her in that bar and everything changed. Then I saw my daughter look up at me with big tired eyes, and fuck everything changed again, but no matter what I was still me. I was Dean Winchester, and shit just didn’t work out for me. Even under the setting sun, and growing full moon, the smell of fire, and the laughter of kids, I knew that I wasn’t meant to stick around in this world. Otherwise, why was death always knockin on my door? No matter what I did, we would always end up here. We would always end up having to say goodbye. 

  Ella 

Dad’s arm felt heavy around my shoulders. He was smiling, but there was something else behind it. There was an unbelievable sadness within him. I wrapped one arm around him in a hug and let go. “I’m gonna go see if Jack wants to ride the Ferris wheel now that it’s starting to get dark,” I offered weakly. 

 “Sounds good.” 

 I walked to Jack and Claire. “You guys want to go for a ride?” I asked, gesturing to the Ferris wheel. 

 Jack gulped audibly. “Really? Is it safe?”

 “Nope.” Claire grinned.

 “Babe stop. Yeah, Jackie. It’s perfectly safe.” I offered him my hand, sitting my pumpkin down next to Cas, who was sitting on a bench next to Sam. “Watch our stuff?”

 “Sure.” Cas shrugged. 

 Jack took my hand nervously, and Claire rolled her eyes, taking my other spare hand. I lead us to the Ferris wheel. I gave the carnie our tickets and the three of us squeezed into the seat. 

 “Not very romantic,” Claire complained. 

 “Shh.” I leaned in and kissed her. “Every moment I’m with you is romantic, no matter what,” I promised. 

 Jack gasped when we started to move upwards he gripped my hand tightly and I smiled widely at him. “Hey, it’s good,” I promised him.

 “Yes...” He said carefully, starting to relax. “I think it is.” 

 “I needed to talk to you guys in private,” I said, looking at Dad below as other people started to get onto the Ferris wheel.

 “What’s going on?” Claire asked, eyeing me.

 “I had a dream last night. It was really vivid,” I said carefully. “I think I saw my moms death.”

 “How could you have seen that, El?”

 I shrugged, shaking my head. “Honestly, I have no idea. But it isn’t the first weird dream I’ve had lately,” I admitted.

 “Like what?” Jack leaned in to the conversation. 

 “When you were sick... Jack I saw you die.” I sniffled, wiping a tear before it could roll down my cheek. “I don’t know... I didn’t think much about it. It was my worst nightmare, but then it happened just like I saw it...” I shook my head. “I’m getting really freaked out here. When I mentioned the dream to Dad he got all stiff. I think he knows more than what he’s saying.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Jack asked quietly.

 “I think he will lie to me, Jackie. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Apparently he’s been doing it my whole life.” 

 Claire laced her fingers with mine. “What does your gut say?”

 I laughed humorlessly. “Well, maybe I’m psychic. I don’t know it sounds ridiculous, right? But what if... what if it’s true? What if I am one of the things my Dad hunts?”

 “He would never hurt you, Ella. You’ve gotta know that,” Claire said insistently. 

 “I.. I do.. I mean I think I do,” I sighed as we crept up higher. “But what if there’s something else.” I met her eyes and then turned to Jack. “What if I have powers... what if I could help him? Don’t I have to try?”

 “Hey, we don’t even know what this is. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Claire said, alarmed.

 “I don’t exactly know who to ask about this, Claire. My Dad? I can’t... He won’t like it.” 

 “What about Sam or Cas?” Jack offered. “Sam is very understanding about things.” 

 “No... he will tell Dad. He has to, right?”

 “What about Rowena?” Claire offered. “I don’t like you talking to witches... but she would probably know something about all of this.” 

 “I think I’ll call her when we get back,” I said, looking down at my Dad. He looked like a spec below. What should I do? I thought, frustrated before he glanced up at me. Almost like he heard me. I swallowed hard. Impossible. “If there’s something to this... maybe I can find the answer for Dad. Maybe I can help him.”

 “Maybe I could,” Jack offered. “I could over power Michael.” 

 “No.” I said, squeezing his hand. “Jackie I won’t let you do that. You won’t burn away any more of you soul. Okay? You have to promise me.”

 He sighed. He looked as helpless as I felt. “Okay.”

 “You can’t tell him what we are doing, Jackie,” I said insistently. “He won’t let us figure it out. It has to be a secret. That’s how you can help. Help me by keeping quiet.” 

 Jack searched my face. He hated lying. I knew he did, but he nodded. “Yes. Okay I will do it.” 

 I let go of Claires hand and hugged him tightly. “Thanks little brother.”

 “You are welcome.” 

 I released him and let Claire put her arm around me. “I’m sorry I ruined your first Ferris wheel ride.”

 “No,” Jack said shaking his head. “I like spending time with you. I don’t care what we do.” 

 “Look at that,” I said, pointing out. “It’s the whole town. Its starting to light up.”

 “They all look so small,” he said quietly. 

 “That’s because they are small, Jack,” Claire said. “There are so much bigger things, places, people than in this small little town, bigger things than that bunker.” 

 “Hey,” I whispered, taking her cheek in my hand. “You okay?”

 “No,” she whispered, pressing her forehead to mine. “I wanted you to have fun today, but you’re so worried. You’re always so worried.” 

 “It’s basically my M-O.” 

 “I don’t like it.” 

 “I’ll stop worrying when there’s nothing to worry about.” I winked. “Which may mean you need to stop hunting.” I laced my fingers with her hand that wasn’t around me. “Because it isn’t just Dad that I worry about, ya know.”

 “I feel like I’m intruding,” Jack said awkwardly.

 Laughter bubbled up inside of me, and I busted up. “God we have such a weird family.”

 Claire grinned before busting up too. “That’s a fucking understatement.” 

 “Okay, no more drama,” I agreed. “Let’s just have fun.”

 Claire’s face relaxed and she nodded, giving me a kiss. 

 We got off the Ferris wheel. My three dads met us with popcorn and candy apples. They looked like huge dorks in their costumes, I loved it. Growing up as a Winchester was probably not a normal childhood, but it was the one I had. We all hooked arms and went to find a place to sit in the grass. I leaned against a large tree, and bit into my apple, watching my family. Cas stared intently at his apple, not sure why he got one, as Dad tried to explain to him why it was delicious even though it was fruit. Claire brought out a cigarette to light before Sam grabbed it from her. “No way,” he said, sternly.

 I grinned. Claire may think that this is a small town life, with small people, but she was just too zoomed out. When you get close it was so much more. The bunker wasn’t just a place, it was home. It was the place that I learned to count. The first place I met Claire, our first Christmas with Jack, and the place where Grandma came back to us. 

 I grew up in that bunker, in this town. It may be unconventional, but it belongs to me. It’s my life and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Looking at my family laughing, in front of a darkening sky, I knew I wouldn’t trade them for anything. We would stay together, the six of us, no matter what I took. Dad looked at me and smiled. We will save you, Daddy. I promise. Even if it takes the last breath in my body, I will not let you rot in that coffin.

 His eyes widened for a moment, just long enough for me to question if I was really seeing it, but he quickly adjusted, his face relaxing. He gave me a thumbs up. 

 “Do you think Clementine would like candy apples?” Jack asked us. 

 I grinned widely. “You can’t give her stuff that isn’t cat food, Jackie. It’ll make her sick.” 

 He looked down, sadly. “But it’s so delicious. She deserves to have something that is this good.” 

 I walked to him, pulling him into a hug. “You can let her lick your fingers when you get home. Then she can try it without getting sick.”

 “You’re so smart, Ellie!” He said, brightening up immediately. 

 “She sure is.” Dad grinned. 

 We looked up to the dark night sky as fireworks began to explode over our heads. I scooted close to Dad and leaned my head on his shoulder like I’d done every year since I was a little girl, and we watched the fireworks explode. For once since the night Lucifer was killed, things seemed peaceful, like maybe everything would work out. 

  Maybe. 

—————

Chapter Two, I See it in Your Eyes

Get caught up!

Tag list:

@deans-baby-momma

@xjamiedennettx

@linki-locks11

@sonnierae26

[forestwater87]

Odd question. If you were doing a wing fic (shorthand: everyone has some kind of wings on their back; up to you if they're always out or if they can be banished and summoned at will) for Camp Camp, what kind of wings would the cast have?

Oooh I love wing fics! Hmmm, let’s see . . . 

David’s would be a little small for his age/size, and he’d probably be kind of embarrassed about that. He can still fly just fine with them -- which he’d say, defensively, if anyone pointed them out -- and they’re very fluffy, white, with little speckles of green flecked throughout.

Now I know most wing fics stick with feathered wings, but it did occur to me that some sort of insectlike wings -- all delicate-looking and iridescent like the surface of a bubble -- would also suit him very well. They’d be a bit more natural and forest-y, but would still have that element of embarrassment and shyness (he was probably called “fairy” a lot growing up, and it’d be a sore spot for him).

That being said, the idea of David having massive wings was suggested by @ciphernetics​, and I must admit that the idea of him either wrapping them around people to protect or comfort them is super cute. Also in a protective moment he could like fwoosh, out they come to shield the campers and it’d be badass. It’s not my preferred hc for him, but there are some lovely ways to play with it.

Gwen’s would be . . . serviceable. Dull, easily overlooked, probably some shade of gray or that kind of dun mousy brown that looks greyish in the right light, bigger than David’s but neither unusually large or small, not especially fluffy but not kind of molted the way some sick people’s are . . . they’re just sort of there. (She was probably nicknamed Pigeon by a lot of people, both as an affectionate term and a derogatory one. And like pigeons’ wings, there are little patches of color among her wings that are hard to see unless you’re looking for them it’s a metaphor get it? aren’t I clever ohoho)

Campbell’s are humongous. The biggest wings ever. He is a mountain of a man, with massive pure-white wings. Some people are convinced he genetically modified them somehow, and they do have this uncanny radioactive glow in the dark but don’t worry about that, it’s perfectly natural and not at all suspicious!

The fun thing about this is that they can get increasingly bedraggled as Season 3 progresses, until they’re drooping and muddy.

Quartermaster has bat wings. I don’t give a fuck if literally every other character has angel wings, QM’s are bats and that’s just the way it has to be.

I like the idea of the campers having small wings that can fit under their clothes, because they haven’t really grown in yet. I imagine maybe Nurf might be an exception, since he seems to be either older or just bigger than the other campers, but for the most part those kiddos look just like their normal selves. That being said, a few ideas of what they might look like grown up:

Max -- black, maybe a little big for his age, like a crow or raven’s wings. When he gets annoyed they puff up and slip out of his hoodie, and it’s a pain to put them back in which annoys him even more and gets them more puffy and hard to stuff back . . . it’s a constant struggle. Pity the poor kid.

Neil -- I’m torn between going with his hair color and giving him some hawklike brown-and-white wings, which I think would look nice with his coloring, and just going hog-wild and giving him wings like a bluebird because of his eyes. I think the latter would be too showy and embarrass him, but there’s something kinda cute about that too. His wings would be like his dad: impossible to ignore and much louder and more obnoxious (in his POV) than they need to be.

Nikki -- big and flecked with golden-orange. Of all the characters I think hers would have the most modifications, because as a kid/young adult she wasn’t careful with them and got them all torn up -- maybe to the point where she can’t even fly with them. But she has Neil and he’s a smart cookie, so I like to think of her wings having a vaguely-steampunk element of mechanisms and patches keeping them together.

Harrison -- white or a very light gray, like a dove’s. He paints the tips gold when he’s older as part of his illusionist costume.

Nerris -- I’m just thinking pure eastern bluebird, orange at the base and then exploding into brilliant blue. I think she’d love how flashy they are.

Ered -- Somehow I want her to have dragon wings. I have no idea why, or how, but I think it’d be extremely cool, and Ered is nothing if not cool. Especially if they’re really rare, almost unheard of, and she’s put a lot of work into transforming herself from the tomboyish freak with the demon wings and gay dads into something to be envious of. Besides, it’s easier to do sick stunts without having to worry about your feathers getting caught on stuff.

Nurf -- All right, I wanna get emo for a moment and say that his wings have been hacked either partly or entirely off by the time he’s an adult. We know he’s been abused in canon, and I think that people like that would go for the easiest target to hurt you, and that target is probably the delicate feathered things sticking out of your back. Bonus points if they’re somehow kind of girly, which coincides with his more sensitive nature and how he initially wanted to do ballet as a kid (especially since I don’t think that was well-received by his family). So, like . . . what remains are very fluffy and sweet-looking, maybe pink or pale yellow and orange or something, but they’re either little stubs he covers up all the time or they’ve got big chunks missing out of them but who’s gonna point that out to the huge guy with a pissed-off expression?

Preston -- Rainbow, like the most extravagant bird of paradise. Does he paint them himself, or are they as natural as he claims? 

Dolph -- Probably something very average and serviceable, in the brown/gray/white family, but they’re always speckled with paint because he’s not very careful with them and especially the long feathers at the bottom trail along the ground while he’s painting, or get stuck to his art if he turns around too suddenly.

Space Kid -- I’m thinking of a duck, for some reason. Partly because they’re aquatic and I just connect the ocean and space for some reason, partly because they’re very ordinary and that’s kind of how SK rolls, and partly because ducks can just flap for insane distances without getting tired (thank you Animorphs!). Space Kid is like that, I think -- very diligent, keeps his head down and gets things done, not very bright but he works so hard it makes up for a lot, and that’s why he’s going to be an astronaut someday. Mallards have those pretty green feathers, too, and I think those would look nice with Space Kid’s eyes.

Jasper -- Peacock. Obviously. He is the most garishly-dressed person in the show and his wings would match. Not that you’ll ever know, because he never gets to grow up and have real wings :( 

So those are the mains! As for some of the less-important characters, I don’t really have too many interesting ideas, but a few throwaway ones:

The Flower Scouts all have pink wings, either feathers or bug/fairy ones. I think maybe Tabii has a chunk missing from one of hers, from a fight or something, and the other girls made a patch so no one can tell and she can fly properly. Erin’s might be just slightly different colors -- one with an orangey tint, one with a blue.

A fun thing about bug wings is they could buzz when the girls are angry. So Sasha’s are basically always going, poor thing.

The Woodscouts probably have their wings bound, clipped, and constantly ready for combat flying. I’m thinking, like, the military-haircut version of wings.

Daniel’s . . . I mean, I don’t care about Daniel because he’s trash, but I do love the idea that they’re not naturally white and he dyes them. It’s my favorite Daniel hc and I need it to appear in every AU.

So that about covers it!

EXCEPT

Then I was talking with Ciphernetics about wing AUs, and I mentioned that in some wing fics (namely the awesome one by setepenre-set, though there are probably others) the wings’ size are based on how loved someone is. Which led to the below cuteness. Warning: shameless Gwenvid and Makkiel ahead, along with me insisting that Cameron Campbell isn’t the worst person in the entire world because I’m love him

Ciphernetics: Max’s wings growing during camp!Max voice: who the FUCK is loving me I specifically requested the opposite of thisDavid: You can even fit them in your hoodie anymore awwwwMax, struggling to pull it on over his wings: the hell I can't

Forestwater:(what if they come in the color of the person who loves you's hair)(so at first it's just this line of red that he knows is fucking David, goddamnit and then all of a sudden start sprouting these mint green and brown ones and my ship takes off)

Ciphernetics: Max, disgusted, throwing an auburn feather at David: get LOSTMax, looking over his shoulder in the mirror at the brown ones gathering at the tips and the mint ones scattered chaotically throughout: huh

Forestwater:Oh no what about when Nikki and Neil's start getting flecked with black, small and easily tugged out like they're ashamed of being there

Ciphernetics: The small really curly little feathery down that like to hide under other feathers(Gwen's had auburn in her wings since almost the first summer but lately it's started to overpower the rest of the colours. Not completely, it's just... Noticeable how much of it is the same colour now.)(She knew David loved people quickly and easily, it's just suddenly a lot more)(or she just wasn't paying attention)

Forestwater:What on earth would David's reaction be to suddenly finding some of Gwen's?I like the idea of her feathers being two-toned

Ciphernetics: I'd love if he's had a very small, slowly growing patch since they met (just a handful more each summer) but some event happens and suddenly there's a lotOh absolutely two tonedHey how about some angst;David's been waiting his whole life for Campbell's hair colourToday at 9:32 AMHe'd never say it but Campbell makes so many throwaway jokes about David being the son he never wanted but it rings a little hollow when there's not when one little brown/grey feather

Forestwater:until the end of season 3 when there's like . . . twoLISTEN I NEED MY TRASH GRANDPA

So that’s just a little bit of extra silliness for added angst/romance/fluff.

Hope this answer isn’t too long, but I was having fun.

[enjolrasrising]

Chiaroscuro

The dream was dark, cold and empty. Grantaire couldn’t open his eyes, but through his eyelids he could tell that all that existed in the space was shadow. He couldn’t move either, though his chest heaved like he’d been running, and his legs shook, threatening to buckle under his own weight. He tried to call out for help, but his throat was dry and he couldn’t take in enough air to breathe out a single word. He thought maybe he would die like this, alone and cold. But something told him, maybe not just yet.

The dream changed. He was standing in an apartment, eyes open, the darkness gone. He’d never been here before, and something deep within him hoped he’d never come back. Grantaire felt someone tugging at his shirt. He looked down and saw a little girl, with dark brown hair and emerald green eyes.

“Tristan,” she said, in a voice that echoed around him, “the floor.”

Below his feet, the carpet felt damp. In the space of a moment, Grantaire became distinctly aware that he was standing in blood. He opened his mouth to cry out, but again, he didn’t have the breath to spare.

He woke to his heart pounding and his side aching. For a moment he was confused as to why he couldn’t hear his own heart beat steadily setting the pace for the EKG, or the slow inhale and exhale of the oxygen tank. But as he took in his surroundings, he recalled that a few days ago Joly and Bahorel had checked him out of the hospital and brought him to his dorm room. He blinked up at his dim forest painting on the wall, and Enjolras’ red banner right next to it. The room was such an odd mix of art and politics, messy paintbrushes and overfilled calendars, and it usually comforted him. But today it filled him with the looming anxiety of real life coming at him fast after a long, weird break. Grantaire slowly started to put his arms over his eyes to block out the world, but the movement pulled at the stitches in his side, so he lowered them again.

Enjolras’ voice came from his own side of the room, which was messy but somehow a more organized mess than Grantaire’s side. “Shit, sorry, did I wake you up?”

Grantaire flinched in surprise and put his hand over his heart. He looked over at Enjolras, who was unpacking a suitcase. “Fu…you scared me.”

“Sorry.” He was frozen, mid-folding a t-shirt, his expression full of poorly disguised worry.

Grantaire sighed and started to slowly sit up. He pushed aside an empty cereal bowl he’d been working up the courage to get up and wash before he fell asleep. “Was I making noises?”

“Yeah. Bad dream?”

“Kinda. These painkillers are dope, but also they make me dream super vividly and I’m sick of it.” He turned his body to face Enjolras, his back up against the wall and his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. “Did you just get back?”

Enjolras nodded, resuming his folding. “Yeah, and I’m glad. Winter break sucked.” He brushed hair out of his eyes and Grantaire caught a glimpse of a bruise under the lamplight.

“What happened to your face?”

Enjolras’ movements halted for a split second, but then he kept folding as if nothing was out of place. “I may have gotten drunk at a family Christmas party and crashed into something.”

The mental image alone was enough to make Grantaire laugh. “Oh my god—ow.” He put his hand over his side, keeping his body rigid to stop the pain. He tried to breathe as gingerly as possible. “What the fuck…I can’t even laugh anymore?”

Enjolras stood up, his eyes wide. “Do you want me to call someone? You should still probably be in the hospital.”

“I’m fine, man, I’m not going back there. They’ve already taken too much of my money.” He meant for his tone to come across as light, but the sourness of the statement dominated any attempt at a joke.

“I can pay,” Enjolras said, still looking worried. “If it’s too expensive, I can help out.”

Grantaire felt his chest warm at the offer, at Enjolras exhibiting so much concern on his behalf. But he shook his head. “I don’t want your guilt money, dude.” He quickly added, “But thanks.”

“It’s not guilt money,” Enjolras’ voice was defensive, “it’s friend money. I want to help, I’m…I’ve been worried about you.”

Grantaire met his eyes, and suddenly the room felt a little colder. “Well, you’ve already committed yourself to dying to take down the government that did this, so I think you’re helping enough.”

Enjolras held his gaze, his stare turning icy. “If you hate the cause I fight for so much—”

“I didn’t say I hated it, come on.”

“—why the fuck do you stick around us?”

“Don’t act like you don’t—"

“Or why the hell did you even insist on coming with us to the meeting with Mouton?”

Grantaire made a big show of rolling his eyes. “Stop it, Enjolras. Stop acting like you’re so clueless, it’s really fucking annoying!”

Enjolras scoffed. “Is it really? Well if you aren’t going to ever come out and say how you really feel about people, then why the hell should I?”

“Because…” Grantaire faltered. He had his reasons, a lot of reasons, but none of them were willing to come out of his mouth.

“Acting clueless is a lot easier than facing the fact that…” Enjolras broke off their eye contact and looked angrily down at his suitcase, “…that you only came to the public relations building with us because you had feelings for me. If you hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have gotten shot. You wouldn’t have lost a ton of money to the hospital, you wouldn’t have missed all of your finals, you wouldn’t have missed seeing your family for the holidays, you…” He looked back up. “…you’d be able to laugh at me without it hurting.”  

Grantaire stared at him, his heart beating fast. His voice was soft, his throat getting tight. “You don’t want anything to happen between us, do you?”

There was already an apology in Enjolras’ eyes. He slowly pulled out his desk chair and sat down heavily. “We are both really different, Grantaire. I don’t think we would be good for each other.”

It felt just like the dream—he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs to say everything he wanted to say. He heard himself take in a couple of wheezing breaths before speaking in a small voice. “How do you know?”

“I just said, we’re really different—”

“But you saved my life, you…” Grantaire pushed himself off the bed, standing. “…you have no idea what you’ve done for me.” His legs shook from the effort and the stitches in his side protested, but he stayed standing.

Enjolras stood too. “Grantaire, look at the fucking situation you’re in! I didn’t save your life! If anything, Combeferre was the one holding back the bleeding.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Grantaire gripped the wooden bedframe, white knuckled. “I wasn’t gonna come to school this semester, I’d already planned not to. I’d already planned everything.”

Enjolras stared at him. “…what?”

The words kept tumbling out. “The day you texted me about meeting each other for the first time, you fucking…you interrupted everything. And then I met you and just…fuck man, everything about you just radiates light.” He met Enjolras’ eyes, even though he felt himself blushing. “You invited me to those meetings, you think my art is good, you just, like, care so much about everything and…and you saved my life. You’re good for me.”

Enjolras’ face was sheet pale, his eyes tinged red. He turned away from Grantaire and started to head for the door, but the thought of leaving was clearly half-hearted because he stopped three-fourths of the way there. He put the heels of his hands over his eyes and took a deep breath. “Grantaire, you can’t put that shit on me.” He dropped his hands to his side and turned around. “I am not your savior. Cause in the end, you still chose not to finish you plan. So, do you actually love me, or are you just grateful that someone stopped you long enough for you to reconsider your choices?”

“That’s fucking…” He shook his head, “No, of course I…” But as he thought about it, his protests began to lose strength.  Grantaire felt his legs buckle and he slowly lowered himself onto the cold floor. “Fuck…” he pressed his hand to his side and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck.” The darkness behind his eyelids felt just like the dream; vast, petrifying, lonely.

Had he really just confused grateful admiration for romantic love? He wasn’t even sure he knew the difference between them. Everyone he’d ever fallen for seemed so much better than him, so much better than he’d ever be.

He felt Enjolras kneeling down across from him and he slowly, miserably opened his eyes. He looked up at his roommate, pushing through the embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

Enjolras’ expression was firm but gentle. “Don’t apologize for having feelings. Maybe I’m actually wrong about all of this, I just…like, I don’t want you to think you are incapable of doing good for yourself.” He rubbed his palms on his pants, breaking off their eye contact. “And I’m the one who should be sorry. I should have told you all of this before you followed me to the meeting with Mouton. I could have saved you a lot of hurt.”

“I would have gone anyway,” Grantaire said without a second thought.

That seemed to take Enjolras by surprise. “Why?”

The question made him pause, and Grantaire realized that he didn’t know how to put his response into words. Because the real answer was just a feeling, and the feeling felt impossible to describe. He went with a simpler way of putting it. “You’re my friend. And instead of playing a sport or doing some normal thing for me to support, you’re…a fucking revolutionary.”

A small smile played on Enjolras’ lips. “But you’re still going to disagree with me during meetings and over text, right?”

“Oh for sure. I don’t have to agree with you, but I’m still going to support your dumb choices.”

For some reason, that was cause for tears to form in Enjolras’ eyes. And Grantaire felt a question in the air between them that didn’t need to be voiced in order to be answered. He leaned forward as much as his wound would allow to meet Enjolras in a gentle embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Enjolras said, softly.

Grantaire didn’t answer, but he felt the darkness that was lingering around him push away. He was okay, and for now, that felt good.

“Oh my god, wait…” Enjolras pulled away and stood up. “I have a Christmas gift for you.”

Grantaire sniffed and made himself a little more comfortable on the floor. “That’s not fair, I didn’t get you anything.”

“You’re alive. That’s the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.” Enjolras reached into his closet and pulled out a large, covered rectangle that was nearly as tall as him.

“What the fuck is that? It’s in a canvas b—” Grantaire’s eyes widened and he looked from Enjolras to the covered canvas in disbelief. “You son of a bastard.”

Enjolras grinned and Grantaire thought he might as well die on the floor. “I told you I’d steal it. My father has no idea.” He leaned the canvas against the wall, unzipped the case, and pulled it to the side.

“Holy…fuck. Holy fucking fuck.” Grantaire got on his knees and gazed at the Caravaggio painting. “Enjolras…holy fuck. It’s a Judith. It’s a fucking Judith beheading Holofernes—holy shit.”

He could hear the gleefulness in Enjolras’ voice. “Oh my god, are you crying?”

“Uh yeah, man, yeah I am. There is Caravaggio two inches from my face.” He rubbed his shirt sleeve across his eyes. “Look at the chiaroscuro, look at Judith’s face…” He looked up at Enjolras. “You are…unbelievable.”

“You deserve a Judith, R.” Enjolras sat down next to Grantaire, facing the painting. “Tell me what chiaroscuro is, you say it all the time and I never know what you’re talking about.”

Grantaire smiled and thought, he could die like this, with Enjolras, with bruises, with tears in his eyes. But maybe not just yet.  

[kylo-renegade]

One Night- Kylo Ren x Reader

Requested By: Anon.

Request: “Hey! Could I request a modern! Kylo x reader where they meet on a park during reader’s parents fancy parties and they fall in love(with maybe dancing)but kylo has a girlfriend(maybe rey or someone else)and reader’s parents doesn’t approve their relationship because they think kylo is old for(but they are like one year different)with a happy ending!! Have a lovely day”

Words: 2K

Warnings: Nothing, but some fluff

A/N: I hope you enjoy. I liked writing this and it actually inspired me to want to write a La La Land series with Poe x Reader (Would you guys read that?)? This story is more Ben Solo then Kylo, but I tried to mix the personalities of mother Ben and Kylo. Anyway I hope you enjoy this story!

You threw on a pair of black converse as you kicked off your nude heels. You fled from the house behind you, the live symphony music growing more distance as you walked out of the yard and into the forest, escaping the party. Your parents party.

Your parents had always been obsessed with throwing insanely big parties, courtesy of your father. Your father worked as the co-CEO for a huge business company, and he ran it alongside Leia Organa. ‘General’ Leia Organa was a kind woman, but with hard resolve. You liked her, but you did not necessarily like the parties your father and her planned.

The parties were okay for the most part. They were big, but the music and food was nice. The worst part was it seemed that every business man your parents introduced you to had a son that they wanted you to court. But you were never interested in being a business woman. You wanted to be a artist.

You walked along the dirt, till you arrived at one of the nearest parks. It was nearby to a small cliff that overlooked the city. You walked over to the swings and sat down. You smoothed out your party dress as you looked out at the night sky. It was beautiful.

“Oh. I didn’t know you’d be here.” The voice made you turn around quickly, almost falling off the swing. Standing only a couple inches away was Leia Organa’s son, Ben, or Kylo as he liked to be called. You turned around and shrugged.

“Needed to get away from the chaos of the party.” You said simply. You heard his luxury shoes crunch the mulch as he approached the swing beside yours. He sat down.

“Understandable. I’m Kylo.” He said. You nodded.

“I know. I’m Y/N.” You said. He nodded as well.

“I know. Our parents work together.” He said, sitting on the swing next to you. It was awkward, considering you and Kylo didn’t talk very often. He was often busy with other guests when he was at parties, and you were often busy with avoiding the suitors your parents found for you. Even at dinners with the just the Organa-Solo family and yours, it was rare that you ever got to talk alone.

“What brings you out here? You shouldn’t you be inside hosting?” He asked. You couldn’t help but feel slightly offended.  You sighed deeply as you ran your fingers through your hair.

“I should be, but my parents wouldn’t stop pushing different guys at me in a sad attempt to get me to marry into the business world.” You explained. Kylo let out a low chuckle.

“I can heavily relate.” He said. You looked at him, eyebrow raised.

“Oh really now? Guess we have more in common then we may have thought.” You said. He nodded, smiling at you. You were entranced for a minute, observing his large stature, but warm features. He wasn’t like you had expected him to be. Other girls your age and in the business world often described him as cold, mysterious, and blunt. But in the moonlight, he just seemed like a normal man. You smiled back at him, swinging slowly.

“I guess so. So tell me Kylo, do you want to be a business man?” You asked. He shrugged.

“I guess so. Its the only career I’ve ever really been exposed to, and someone needed to carry on if something happens to mom.” He explained. You felt your mind race, considering you didn’t know what would happen if you told him you didn’t want to go into business. He tilted his head a little bit.

“What do you want to do?” He asked. You gave a nervous smile.

“I actually want to be an artist. Draw, paint, let my emotions out through an artistic medium of some sort.” You said. Kylo’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“That’s actually really cool. It’s rare to meet someone who isn’t interested in business at these parties.” He said. You laughed.

“Tell me about it. Having conversations with these people is like having a conversation with a robot.” You joked. Kylo gave a short laugh. As you both sat in silence, you thought about how you wished you had gotten the chance to know Kylo better earlier. He seemed nice and it would have been nice to have someone to talk to at these parties that wasn’t so dull. Suddenly, the silence of the night was broken by the distant sound of orchestra music. You groaned at the sound. Kylo laughed, pulling out his phone and putting on a very mellow, alternative song. As the guitar and piano drowned out the violins and cellos, Kylo stood up. He presented a hand to you. You looked up to his face, before shaking your head.

“I can’t dance Kylo.” You said. Kylo rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. Short protests fell out of your mouth, but were soon stopped as Kylo placed on of your hands on his shoulder. His right hand fell to your waist and he gripped your right hand with his left. As you looked up at him, your feet began to move in rhythm. Kylo spun you around, before pulling you closer to his chest. You were taken by the way his mouth pulled into a soft smirk.

“I thought you said you couldn’t dance.” He joked. You let out a small chuckle as you rolled your eyes. You rested your head against Kylo’s chest and let him move you both as you danced. It was perfect. The sky was shining with bright stars, and the moon was gleaming in excitement. The city lights below you glimmered, and the music added a soft atmosphere. This moment could have lasted for eternity, and you wouldn’t have complained. However the moment was broken as you heard your mothers voice.

“Y/N! Where are you? Come home this instant!” Her voice rang out. You jumped away from Kylo slightly, before sighing. You looked at Kylo apologetically.

“I’m sorry, but I really must go back. I’ll see you again?” You said. Kylo nodded, smiling.

“Of course.” He said. You smiled as you placed a kiss hastily on his cheek, before running off in the direction of your mothers call.

As you sat with your mother at the dinner table you looked up.

“Hey mom, what do you know about Leia and Han’s son?” You asked. Your mother looked up at you, eyebrow raised.

“Why?” She asked suspiciously. You shrugged.

“I spent some time with him at the party the other night and he seemed really, interesting.” You said, trying to find words to explain your feelings. Your mother put her pen down, before shaking her head.

“You can’t fall in love with him Y/N. You can’t.” She insisted. You furrowed your brows.

“What? Why not?” You asked. Your mother sighed.

“You’re so young sweetie, and not only that, but he has a girlfriend.” She said. You were mixed between anger and confusion, you went with anger first.

“What do you mean I’m too young? He’s not that much older, and you’ve tried to marry me off to someone who was 10 years older than me! And besides that, I’ve found a business man who I like!” You exclaimed, before the second part of your mothers statement really hit you. You looked down, frowning at your lap.

“He has a girlfriend?” You asked. Your mother sighed.

“Yes dear. His mother told us yesterday that he’s in a relationship with a girl named Rey.” She said. You sighed. You didn’t want to give your mom the satisfaction of wearing you down, so you stood up and walked away. Instead of staying in the house, you headed outside, and downtown. You stopped inside of a small coffee shop that you absolutely adored and sat down.

“Hey there Y/N. Why the long face?” The voice belonged to your best friend Poe, who ran the shop. You looked at him as he slid into the chair across from you, also sliding your usual order in front of you.

“Nothing important.” You said, sipping your drink. Poe raised and eyebrow and rested his crossed arms on the table.

“I don’t believe you.” He said. You sighed, something you seemed to find yourself doing a lot, and set your drink down.

“I met this really amazing guy at a party my parents threw. His name is Kylo. He’s super chill, and nice. But it turns out he has a girlfriend, Rey. And I don’t know what to do cause I really like him.” You explained. Poe nodded as you explained your situation, before furrowing his brows.

“Rey? Y/N, she works here. She’s actually here right now. Do you want to meet her? Cause I feel like something isn’t right.” He said. You furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean Poe.” You said. Poe sighed, before standing up and taking your hand. You were still confused as he dragged you behind the counter and into the kitchen. In there was a pale girl with brown hair and soft features. As you entered the kitchen with Poe, she smiled.

“Hey Poe, who’s this?” She asked, wiping her hands on a towel. Poe stopped in front of her.

“Rey, this is Y/N. She was just telling me she met this guy named Kylo and that you’re dating him.” Poe said. Rey’s eyes widened as she shook her head.

“Oh lord no. I pretended to date him for a night cause he said he’s pay me if I did. Apparently he needed to get his parents off his back, so he asked if I’d fake date him. But otherwise, I’m gay, so I wouldn’t date him.” She explained. You heart stopped racing and you couldn’t help but smile.

“So, he’s free?” You asked. She smiled and nodded.

“Yep, 100% free. No chains tying him down. If you want to talk to him, he normally stops by for a coffee around 3.” She said. You looked at your watch and noticed that 3 wasn’t too far away. You smiled.

“I think I’ll wait for him then.”

You waited anxiously for Kylo to come in, and when he did, you waved him down. He smiled as he got his coffee and sat down next to you.

“Hey Y/N. What are you doing here?” He asked. You smiled.

“I just came to get out of the house. My mom and I had a fight.” You said. Kylo frowned.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, sipping his coffee. You laughed.

“Well, it was actually about you having a girlfriend.” You said. Kylo choked on the coffee he was drinking, coughing and hitting his chest. Your eyes widened as you reached out to him. He held out a hand, before he stopped coughing.

“My mom told everyone?” He asked. You laughed.

“Apparently.” He groaned loudly as he buried his face in his hands.

“Y/N, I promise I don’t have a girlfriend. I really like you, and I don’t want you to think that I’m a player and that I’m not serious, it was just so my parents would back off and Rey is gay so-“ You cut him off with a giggle. He stared at you confused. You leaned across the table and gave him a kiss. You broke away and smiled softly.

“I know that now. I talked to Rey. And I like you too. It was a lovely night and I don’t care what my parents think, I want to be with you.” You said. Kylo’s panicked expression faded and a small smile fell across his beautiful features.

You sat in the coffee shop and just talked, allowing the sweet scent of coffee and the feeling of love wrap them up as they enjoyed each others company. With one another, you were no longer the children of business, you were adults in love.

[bookforwhatitsworth]

Chapter One: You’re My Favorite

“The more I think about, the more I want to let you know: That everything you do is super-duper cute…” ~ Nevershoutnever

Upon opening her eyes, Auralee noticed the snow outside her window. It was reflecting the bright winter sunlight and causing it to resonate across the yard. Slipping on some house shoes, she walked outside to embrace the magnificence of the first snowfall of the year. Snowflakes were still gingerly dropping from the sky onto her soft, pale skin. Giggling as one landed on her nose, she brushed a lock of her hair behind her shoulder, breathing in deeply. The cool air was so refreshing that it felt as though it was forming icicles in her throat. Closing her bright blue eyes, Aura fell backwards directly into the snow; a mess of dark brown hair falling around her. She lay there for what felt like hours, wishing it were possible to spend her day there daydreaming in the snow. Suddenly, a voice rang across the snowy yard, breaking her daydream as it hit her ears. Aura opened her eyes and sat up to see her mother motioning for her to come inside. She groaned and stood up, brushing the snow from her bony legs. Once again, her mom’s voice wafted across the yard, growing more and more irritated.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Aura yelled, frustrated by her mother’s impatience. As she approached the house, she cringed at her mom’s stance. She had her body cocked to the side, arms crossed in front of her, and her “fretful” look painted her face.

“Go get ready for school; you’re going to be late.”

She nodded and weaved past her, making her way to her bedroom to finish getting her books together. Outside her window, the snow was still delicately falling, coating everything with a glistening white. She sighed, desiring to go lie in it, letting it engulf her and freeze all of her cares away. Slipping on her warm cashmere sweater, Aura slipped out the door and into the kitchen where her mother was standing in front of a warm, freshly baked cinnamon roll and a cup of hot chocolate.

“Eat, you need to keep up your strength,” her mother chimed. Aura looked down at the food, grimacing at the smell. She opened her mouth to say ‘no, thank you’, but realized it wasn’t worth the argument.

“I’m already running late, mom. I’ll just eat it on the way,” she insisted, grabbing the food and walking out the door. As the door closed behind her, she breathed a sigh of relief. She cautiously slid the food into the trash can and closed the lid, trying her best not to make any noise, and continued to her car that was waiting for her in the driveway. It had finally come to the point where she no longer felt guilty for throwing away the food her mother prepared for her. This was a necessary thing if she wanted to stay as thin and pretty as she always dreamed she would. The sweater was barely even keeping her warm. Yeah, she felt frozen solid almost constantly nowadays, but it never hurt to try. The car’s engine roared to life, and she backed out of the driveway. The snow was never much of an issue for the people around her town, especially when it came to driving. The first snow fall came around October and didn’t melt away until around April. Still, it came as no surprise when there were wrecks or skid marks on the snow covered roads on the way to the small private high school she and her friends attended.

Pulling into the parking lot, she noticed her boyfriend, Dante, standing beside his car, smoking a cigarette and waiting for her. As she pulled up, he threw the cigarette on the ground and put it out with his foot. She stepped out of her car, a beaming smile stretching across her thin face. Before she could say a word, Dante embraced her in a warm hug and kissed her forehead. Blushing, she looked up at him and ran her hands through his dark hair and grinned wildly.

“What?” He laughed, wrapping his arms around her small waist.

Aura shook her head and kissed his nose, “It’s nothing. I just love you and can’t wait to hang out with you this afternoon. Where do you want to go eat?” Dante rolled his eyes and grinned broadly.

“I don’t know why you ever ask. We both know where you want to go,” he said, lighting another cigarette from his pocket.

“And where do you think I want to go so badly?” She smirked; her voice saturated with happiness. He narrowed his eyes at her, jokingly.

“The Mexican Grille on the corner.” Aura giggled sweetly, making his heart melt.

“Awe, you know me so well!” She cried blissfully.

“Have faith in me, Aur. We’ve been dating forever. You’re my girl. Of course I know what you want.”

“Two years isn’t quite forever.” Dante flicked his Marlboro onto the ground.

“Come on; let’s get to class before we’re late.” He grabbed her cold hand and began to walk away, his touch warmed her numb fingers. Aura was in a state of complete delight. A perfect body, a perfect boyfriend, perfect friends, a perfect first snow. She couldn’t think of a reason not to be happy.

Once they arrived at her class, she unhappily kissed Dante goodbye. After promising to meet at their normal place after class, they departed. She quietly glided into her seat beside her best friend Remi, still tickled by the divine start of her day.

“Someone is in a good mood,” Remi chimed. “Looking thin, too! Have you lost more weight?” Aura smiled and nodded, glad that someone was noticing how fit she had become in the past two years. She loved the compliments, they made her feel accomplished.

“Another five pounds,” she responded proudly. She had never looked this good, or been this happy, in her entire life. Aura shifted happily in her chair and began to write a note to Dante as the teacher began to drone on and on about the skeletal system, the muscular system, and so on. Then, she started to daydream, thinking about the past two years with Dante; the day they met, their first date, their first kiss, going to the beach every summer. Everything was perfect, always had been. She felt another wave of happiness rush over her, barely able to pay attention.

“Aura Pinson, can you please tell the class what the fingers are also known as?” Aura’s head popped up, expelling her from her daydream.

“The phalanges,” she answered without skipping a beat. Her teacher, Mr. Amarno, slightly narrowed his eyes and smirked.

“Well, pay attention. Stop your fantasizing. If you ever want to gradu--” he began, cut off by the ringing of the bell. She quickly gathered her things, stood up and walked out of the door, blowing a kiss back to Mr. Amarno with a smug grin on her face. Dante was standing up against the lockers, waiting for her arrival so he could walk her to her next class. They both pulled little folded notes out of their pockets. It was their own little tradition, they wrote notes to each other in every class, so that they both have a note to read and write during every block. She felt really grateful that they had such an easy relationship; a few arguments, but nothing serious.

“Baby, do you think we will always be this in love?” she said suddenly. He stopped walking and held her face in his hands, looking straight into her eyes.

“Of course! You are, and always will be, my little doll. And I love you with every piece of my heart.” Dante leaned down and kissed her softly. “You’re my favorite.” She smiled, relishing in the sweet things he said. As they reached her class, they looked at each other sadly.

“I hate being away from you,” she whispered softly.

“I know, I do, too. I’ll see you after class,” he replied, walking away.