tristan-miller

[tristan-miller]

cursedinvisibility‌:

OPEN STARTER. Location: Gym Time

Jace could have made it big. He was the number one recruit for a dozen football teams, and he’d proven that he could keep up academically. But things happened, and his life got off track, so the closest that he got to that now was this: yelling at people to train harder, to lift heavier, to run faster. Otherwise known as a trainer at Gym Time. It was a far cry from his dream, but he enjoyed it. Most days. “C’mon, you got this,” he encouraged, bending down to near eye level with the person forcing their way through push-ups.

Why Tristan thought any of this was a good idea was beyond him. He didn’t often fare well with authority figures, whether it was just being barked at by bigger guys in general - Tris knew damn well he wasn’t going to like it and he was still planted on the ground, arms shaking under the exercise as he counted press-ups. His trainer was keen to pile on the encouragement, but did it fuck feel like anything other than a guy relishing in Tris’ discomfort. A thin layer of sweat beaded at Miller’s hairline, his pants steady as he exhaled with each rise in his movement. There was dark patches of sweat lining decorating his grey tee and his shorts were tight around his waist. He wasn’t sure if a ravenous canine was accurate, but it felt like the way Tris was glowering at his trainer bent in front of him that he was ready to send the man on his ass.

And boy could he if he wanted to. The idea in his head for the whole training regime had been to work on controlling his temper; it was bad. Always had been; a loose cannon with too much gunpowder. Is it working? Besides staring at the man a little too keenly when he’d arrived for their session, he was now growing increasingly frustrated with each reassuring push for him to do more. 

It wasn’t so much that Miller was unfit than he was exhausted, the shifts at Rendezvous were long, and as much as he enjoyed it. There was no avoiding the drain it could take on anyone. But even then, the guy didn’t exactly run an easy ship. A long breath slipped past Tristan’s lips as he kept his pace, the muscles in his upper arms burning with overexertion. He was convinced they might cave. Shit, you’ve lost count. “Maybe you should drop and do some too, I’ll be motivated with that challenge,” Tris grumbled between harsh intakes of breath.

[tristan-miller]

Tristan had to give it to Park, it had the best spots to drink; to get frisky and to cause a little trouble. It was pretty tame in most places, but the opportunities were there; they rung loud to Miller every time he got an idea that he had to suppress. He didn’t have his two troublemaking allies beside him right now either; less incentive for the most part to keep chaos under wraps. The Hangout was one of the more favourable places, Tris worked at Rendezvous and the change in vibe was welcome. It was also a little calmer here than it was there.

A whirring noise to his left dragged his sights from the bar towards the woman rolling up on the scooter. Miller smirked, not only was it amusing to see - but the woman upon it was renowned. Kristen Parrish; fucking Movie Star. Tristan didn’t consider himself all that buried in film and TV; only when he was made to watch it with his friends, but she certainly had a pretty face to remember. “Wouldn’t the world end if Kristen didn’t get what she wanted?” he quipped, lifting a brow as if to see if she’d challenge the statement. Ouch. Coming off bitter or what? He hadn’t meant it entirely like that, they were both in the same position - he just wasn’t plastered across every billboard on the outside world. He didn’t want to be, but he also didn’t want to be ocnfined to Park like a curfew prison. When he ventured outside of Grimstone Park, it was quite literally to be a shadow; to look for his mother and yet, fall short every time. 

The saddening thoughts dragged his smirk a little down, but he tried not to let the anger boil to surface. The majority of The Hangout was quite literally shipping containers, if Tristan blew a fuse anywhere in the place, the containers were being ripped right down and the catastrophe would be fatal. Tris knew that too, all too well. 

Kristen had just returned to the town by the skin of her teeth. It frustrated her that she had a time restriction on how long she could stay out of the town, and the fact that she couldn’t use her power on the outside. She may be able to get to the movie sets much quicker if she was allowed to. But, she supposed that she should be appreciative that she could leave Grimstone Park at all. Even if she was only allotted thirty-two hours a month. 

She waited for the guard to unlock her negation bracelet before she shook out her wrist and began walking towards the town. There weren’t many places for her to choose to spend her time. It was mostly just clubs and bars. But Kristen didn’t mind. She moved towards one of the scooter stations, payed, and grabbed one of the scooters. She held on tight as she zoomed through the seemingly dead town, towards the hangout. 

As she pulled up to the assortment of shipping containers that were stacked on top of one another to create its own attractive aesthetic, she stopped the scooter and got off. “Please don’t tell me that we don’t have alcohol and I should have stopped by the store on the way here.” Kristen groaned at the person nearest her as she walked towards one of the coolers. 

[tristan-miller]

“Is that right?” Tristan returned, eyes glimmering with amusement at the stranger as he looked over at him from the rim of his plastic cup. The festival was busy, it had been all day and Tris was actually enjoying himself; getting into some mischief earlier had caused him to now dodged the sights of some of the guards. Tris was convinced they might have revoked his entry to the place and sent him back to his home if they’d flagged him too quickly. So, the man faking a kissing booth - or at least, trying one on, Miller really wasn’t all that sure, was going to be his excuse to take a breather from trouble. “Well, I’m all for the kissing booth, but am I fuck paying for it,” he remarked, swilling the remnants of his drink, unable to keep the ghost of a smile off his face. 

“Think you should be paying me if you want to try that,” he added with a hint of a toying tone behind his words. There was a little moment in the back of Tristan’s mind that wanted to swipe a finger and flip the guy’s chair back, the metal legs of it practically calling him to play the move. He’d at least gauge whether the guy was going to push it or not first.

“Sorry, but I think you’re mistaken. This isn’t a kissing booth… is it?” Honestly, Zachariah had just seen an empty seat and sat in it, figuring he’d tell anyone who approached him to do one. He liked the atmosphere of things like this, however he also liked to sit alone, and just people watch. The man frowned, and turned the sign on the stall around and saw that it was. “Oh, well, I mean if you’re gonna pay for the kissing booth then I’m open to it. These lips aren’t free. A dollar for a kiss, three if you want a little tongue action.”

[tristan-miller]

“To control magnetism can be all-powerful.”

» ABOUT

NAME: Tristan Miller  AGE: Twenty Four POWER: Magnetokinesis  OCCUPATION: Up to Player TOWN: Grimstone Park 

» HISTORY

***TRIGGER WARNING: SHOOTING***

Tristan was the product of teen pregnancy and was raised by only his mother, his father wanted nothing to do with her after he learned that she was pregnant. His mother always tried to do what was best for Tristan but being a single mother wasn’t easy, she worked two jobs and Tristan was usually left in the care of neighbors. It was while he was under the care of one of his neighbors at the young age of ten that Tristan discovered his power of magnetokinesis. He was playing outside when he made a magnetic field levitate a nearby bench sending it flying towards the neighbor’s home. That was the first time he used his power but it wouldn’t be the last.

When Tristan turned sixteen the government contacted him and his mother to explain that they would be taking him to Lake Grimstone. He supposed that they caught wind of him, seeing how he often used his power. Tristan and his mother both agreed with the agents that he would leave with them, but as soon as the agents left to give him time to prepare and say goodbye the Millers ran. Tristan couldn’t bear the idea of being away from his mother she was everything he had and he was everything she had. Life on the run, however, was not an easy one. One night while on the run, and after many nights of sleeping in their car, they decided to stay in a motel as they were checking in two armed men who were fleeing from the police barged into the motel office and pointed their guns at the attendant and his mother. Scared for his mother’s life he made the gun that was being pointed at her head turn and go off, killing the armed robber instead. The cops arrived and took the robber and Tristan to jail. Even though it was in self-defense Tristan was sentenced to fifteen years in jail, the news distraught both him and his mother. It seemed like, after all of that he was still going to be kept away from his mother, it was then that the government showed up to give him his freedom, or at least part of it. Knowing that he didn’t have a choice, Tristan agreed to go to Lake Grimstone, but only after they promised to look after his mother.

Tristan feels like an outsider at Lake Grimstone, most people seem to be happy to be there and he is not, in fact, he is furious that he was taken from his home. The male also blames the government for what he did, had they not been on the run from the government then his mother’s life would have never been in danger. The memory of his mother is still with him and even though he is no longer with her he tries his best to live his life in a way that would make her proud of him. There is only one good thing that the government has done for Tristan and that is to have placed him in Grimstone Park. He has a little more freedom there and he is allowed to leave for a few hours every month. But having that short freedom doesn’t make what they did, ripping him away from his mom, any easier. 

» CONNECTIONS

NATALIE ANDERSON - He has somewhat of a crush on her. He sees much more to her than just the spoiled rich girl that most people see. 

HARLEY HIDALGO - Harley is probably the person that Tristan is closest to in Lake Grimstone. He views him as the brother he never had but always wanted. 

LANDON MILLER - Landon is his older cousin and someone that Tristan can’t stand. He prefers to avoid Landon but if there happen to be some run-ins it’s safe to bet that there will be fireworks.

Tristan Miller is a CLOSED character and is portrayed by Max Ehrich.

[tristan-miller]

zanexpatel‌:

tristan-miller‌:

As he began to grab the supplies, he could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket. He didn’t have much time but he pulled it out and quickly sent some reassuring texts to Harley. He let out a breath, a little annoyed that he was having to work both ends of this group. Harley and Tristan. Tristan was more pertinent, though. He had more pressing matters to be tended to.  

“Landon?” Zane asked as he put his phone on the counter and moved back towards Tristan. “And what, pray tell, gave you the urge to pick a fight with that guy?” Zane was trying to pay attention but it was hard to as he was now assessing Tristan’s other wounds. He watched as the other pealed off his shirt and Zane frowned. Yeah, he had endured a beating. That was for fucking sure.

His phone buzzed and Zane let out a sigh as he moved to check it and text back. “I’m glad Harley wasn’t the one to do this. I mean, I didn’t think he would but…” Zane shrugged his shoulders. “Anyone can snap, I suppose.” Zane pressed his lips together into a thin line and then let a slow sigh of relief. He was glad it hadn’t been Harley. If it had… Zane would probably have to visit the immortal about it. But since it wasn’t, he didn’t have to. Nor was he going to visit Landon over this.

“I hope you got a few good punches in?” Zane asked as he moved a hand to Tristan’s back. He pressed his skin to the other’s gently, his eyes closing as he focused on Tristan’s blood. He was bleeding from the outside but he couldn’t feel anything irregular on the inside. “Plotting someone’s death?” Zane opened his eyes and frowned slightly. There was only so much of this shit he could take. “I’d suggest you rest and heal up for a bit before you put that plan into motion.” He said quietly as he began tugging at the blood that was still dripping over Tristan’s skin. He moved towards his cabinet and pulled out a large glass jar, letting the blood trickle into the container. He’d use it for later if he needed it. 

Zane took a step back to really look at Tristan. There wasn’t much Zane could do besides try to get the healing process to enact quicker. “You took it like a champ, Tris. I’m impressed.” Zane offered the other male a genuine smile as he moved back towards him. He placed a hand on Tristan’s arm, wrapping his fingers around his bicep as he forced Tristan’s blood to pump quicker throughout his body. It would start the healing process and aid in him healing a little quicker than normal. “I have some pain meds if you need them?”

It was like an irritating sound, every time Tris tapped some bloodied fingered reply back to Harley, Zane was glancing at his phone as it subsequently went off. It was more than obvious with the way they were both intermittently checking their phones that the immortal with undoubtedly responsible for it. He wasn’t too sure if Zane was going to bring it up; he figured by the bender’s actions, that he wasn’t all that interested in doing so. 

“Because it’s Landon.” Tristan returned through gritted teeth, unsure how much Harley shared with the man; whether the ongoing feud was down to a lot more than just two guys pummelling one another repeatedly. He was half paying attention to where Zane was assessing and flinching a little when the man ran over a particularly unpleasant spot. Tris felt a little better for removing the bloodied and dirtied shirt and loosening his pants. Trying not to smirk at how Z had first assumed the injuries had came about. “Har, kicking the crap outta me,” it came out as some odd amused laughter that was a little cut off by a cough. “that’d be a sight, huh.”

Tristan was more than unappreciative of the snapping remark. It was hitting too soon and too close to the bone. Everything that he’d promised Harley was already coming to surface; the agitation he wanted to spill over the whole thing again was literally a few breaths from being blurted in Z’s face. 

Neither of them needed that and Tristan was too torn up about the past day’s events to consider erupting in his friend’s apartment. But the thought certainly crossed his mind before it became fleeting. “I’ll snap him,” he grunted, shifting on the chair that Zane had planted him on, he wasn’t sure which of the two people who’d pissed him off he was going to break to pieces first but Tristan was aware that his condition was more than a hindrance to any of his empty threats.

Something like a growl broke free from Tris when Zane began touching his bare back. He didn’t assume the man was trying to hurt him. God from what Har had said today, he wasn’t too sure. But either way, it was sending lightning up and down the length of Tris’ spine. “Of course I did. Fucker ran though,” he seethed out between sharp intakes of breath. His hands were clenching on his lap at the thought of being left on the ground whilst his cousin stumbled away. 

Listening to Zane’s suggestion to put the plan aside for the sake of healing was sensible; a lot more rational too than Tris was expecting from the bloodbender. A lot more well-thought through that you’re doing right now. He was growing more and more used to Z manipulating his blood in his body but he wasn’t all that sure he’d ever be completely used to it. Swallowing thickly, he glimpsed at the jar that was gradually filling with the remnants of his own fluids and he was trying not to frown at the obscure sight of it.

Tristan was adjusted to most things by this point, but Z manipulating his blood into a glass canister was forever going to be oddity. “I’m fine by the way, if that’s what H is on your back on -” Tris grumbled almost inaudibly to his friend as he grimaced at each relenting touch the other put on him. He knew he was doing his best to tend to them, but the younger male was making it all too clear with each irritable complaint that was hissed under his breath that he wasn’t enjoying a moment of it. “Yeah, yeah, Z,” he continued to mutter, the man’s praise was not well met given that Tristan was still irritated about that and the way his blood was moving around his body increased his breathing rate. “impressed I didn’t just end him.” he added with some surfacing lividness. 

He trusted Zane to do whatever he felt was necessary to make him feel better - and to stop the blood from actually pouring out of him. He shook his head firmly, not wanting the meds he was offering; he wasn’t keen on feeling the pain but he didn’t want to be not all that lucid either. “Pain’s fine,” he wavered it off, trying to stand himself up so he could at least begin to make it clear he wasn’t going to overstay his welcome. He’d come over as H had requested; a few things had happened since he’d made that promise. “Don’t tell Har the state I was in,” he sighed, turning his head to look back at the man nursing him with some hope that he’d not already spilled it over text.

| Purple Knuckles and P*ssed |

[tristan-miller]

sms: har∞🧬

harley: i'd still like you to stay at mine tonight tho? put my stupid mind at ease?

harley: you don't have to, and if you do decide to go home just text me in the morning so i know you're ok

harley: you wish, miller.

tristan: if it makes you feel better, sure.

tristan: i'll text you either way. but i can come back over. hope you still have beers, i need one.

tristan: you're not allowed to grill me about Landon, though.

tristan: see you later, immortal.

[tristan-miller]

sms: har∞🧬

harley: then i guess i don't need to come over.

harley: i've told him to come find me when he can deal with it, he has a lot going on in his head, even if he's not showing it.

harley: i mean, it's not like it was that long ago that i told him i love him, and now all this, and also he knows there's something else that's gonna make him angry? just... he can come to me when he's ready, and i'll tell him.

tristan: alright, Har.

tristan: whatever you think is best.

tristan: i've gotchu, always. I know i'm a volcano, but, i know you're both good and i'm here if you need it.

tristan: don't worry about me either, i know what you're like, i'm fine, i promise. think your immortality is brushing off on me.

[tristan-miller]

sms: har ∞🧬

harley: i don't feel well.

harley: i'm tired, tris

harley: you'll help contain the explosion rather than add to the fire?

tristan: he's not showing he's angry

tristan: he's fucking calm, idk, he's good at covering it if he is.

tristan: i think i'm the fucking explosion Har, not him.

tristan: but i'll contain that.

tristan: in Z's apartment at least. [unsent]

[tristan-miller]

sms: har ∞🧬

harley: fine, fine. but if you start feeling worse, you better tell one of us.

harley: z and i aren't supposed to lie to each other. i literally told him i never would the other night and then i just fucking fuck him off man

harley: i always do this. i've /always/ done this. i don't know how he's not sick of my shit tbh... or maybe he is.

harley: no man, i'm just gonna stay in bed. apparently he's gonna bring you to mine when you're all fixed up, so i'll see you both then.

harley: and we'll see if he's willing to listen, or if he's too pissed off.

tristan: i'll be fine.

tristan: get out of bed H

tristan: i'm not letting him bring me like some incompetent to yours. i'm walking. i'm good.

tristan: you should come over here, i'll tell him you're coming over.

[tristan-miller]

sms: har∞🧬

harley: yeah, because he's now the one lying.

harley: so much for that honesty, huh?

harley: that'd be more hard-hitting if you saw one of his texts from like 5 minutes ago [unsent]

harley: you will not go anywhere on your own, tristan miller. not until we know you can fall asleep without falling into a fucking coma or that you don't have broken ribs threatening to puncture your lungs or something

harley: you should probably go to the hospital once zane's done, just in case

harley: yeah i suggest now isn't the time to talk to him about anything. thanks for still having that in your thoughts tho.

tristan: I'M NOT THAT BAD HARLEY.

tristan: i'm not gonna go into a coma and nothing is broken because i'd know. Z is getting the worst of it.

tristan: i don't need the hospital, i swear.

tristan: i'm just aching and a little worse for wear, but i'll recover, i always do.

tristan: i don't know what this lying shit is, but if you're both doing it, sounds like you both KNOW you're doing it so just come over and talk whilst you're on the subject.

tristan: i'm in too much pain to thwack him over the head for you so he gains sense. [unsent]

[tristan-miller]

sms: har∞🧬

harley: he's getting bitchy and defensive idk man

harley: plus apparently he has fucking plans or whatever after he makes sure you're okay

harley: now who's the one lying?

harley: tho, i suppose he could, with b, but let's not think about that.

harley: all of this was a fucking mistake [unsent]

tristan: he didn't say anything when i arrived?

tristan: his place is empty

tristan: I haven't seen B.

tristan: i think you should come over, idk what you're still texting about, but you should speak to him. he's fine, i'll leave when he's done.

tristan: if i tried speaking to him, i'd probably make things worse Har.

tristan: i didn't expect to get in a punch up with that fucking idiot on the way and lose my temper with everything twice as much

[tristan-miller]

sms: har∞🧬

harley: i mean... will you help me control his anger or are you just gonna egg him on?

harley: and by that i'm gonna guess the answer to my own question.

harley: i can come over if you want me to come over but he sounds pretty annoyed at me

tristan: i'll help, but he'll kick me out, H.

tristan: i'm in pain, i'm angry and i want my two best friends to be okay. why is that so much to ask ? [unsent]

tristan: come over, he needs you too.

tristan: believe me, he does.

tristan: he doesn't need me bleeding all over his dining room and venting my murderous plans.

[tristan-miller]

sms: har ∞🧬

harley: i've told him to come over once you guys are done

harley: and i'm guessing you're in no fit state to be the one checking in on /his/ emotions right now

harley: i'll tell him, tris. he knows i'm hiding something now so... i can't not.

harley: sometimes i hate how much of a hold he still has over me [unsent]

tristan: so you're not coming here?

tristan: i'm not that bad H, i'm just a little pissed off

tristan: that's not exactly anything new though is it

tristan: he won't want to speak to me, but i came over - as i promised i would, he seems..like Z...

tristan: it's gonna sound better from you anyways

tristan: i have an appointment playing reaper whilst you guys are doing that

[tristan-miller]

sms: har∞🧬

harley: no don't lie to him just don't.. don't tell him.

harley: look if he won't fucking drop it just tell him to come and talk to me when you're all healed up, i won't make you lie to him, that's not fair.

harley: xoxo gossip girl

tristan: sure H.

tristan: nothing stopping you coming over here and talking to him. xoxo

tristan: not that i want you to see me in this state [unsent]

[tristan-miller]

sms har ∞🧬

harley: yeah i've told him i'll leave him to it so he can tend to you

harley: also, i may have told him i vented to you about him, and other people

harley: and now he's asking about other people remember your promise and feel better xoxo

harley: seriously tho.

tristan: of course you did

tristan: right when he's got control of my blood rn H.

tristan: you disappear when you drop that kind of info on him? wtf am i supposed to say, you want me to lie too?

tristan: don't xoxo me, immortal.

[tristan-miller]

sms: har∞🧬

harley: fine, fine. just... stop fucking getting in fights with him for the sake of it man i get your angry but you can't be doing this every time you see him

harley: also you're /both/ fucking liars you're not fine

harley: that much blood loss does not equal fine

harley: you guys need to stop fucking babying me [unsent]

tristan: it's not every time i see him.

tristan: it's like every other time.

tristan: i AM fine, H. if i wasn't, i wouldn't exactly be texting would i?

tristan: whatever Z has said, i'm alright, just some cuts and scrapes. i can legit hear his phone flying off and he's pausing to answer you.

tristan: it can't be anyone else.

[tristan-miller]

zanexpatel‌:

tristan-miller‌:

Zane had already been drinking. The last few days for him had been rough and he honestly just wanted to be left alone. He was exhausted but he couldn’t sleep. All he could really focus on was practicing his power and that’s exactly what he was doing in his own home. He didn’t care what his roommates thought of it. 

He walked down the stairs, ready to find himself something else to drink when he heard the front door open. He craned his neck to look around to see who was entering and paused in step when he noticed Tristan. He shook his head back and forth, his jaw slacking when he saw how the other male looked. “What the fuck, Tristan?” He asked, moving towards the male so he was able to assess his wounds better. 

Zane lifted a hand, quickly manipulating the blood that was seeping out of Tristan’s wounds and pushing the liquid back into his body. “What happened?” Zane asked, his voice slightly stern. If he came from Harley’s, then did that mean the two of them had a fight? “Why did Harley do this to you?” Zane asked as he watched the other pull off his shirt. “You need more than a new shirt, Tris.” Zane muttered. “Don’t be snappy with me. I’m not the one that beat you to a fucking pulp.” Zane’s own anger showed in his eyes as he met Tristan’s. “Sit. I need to grab a rag and some antiseptic ointment.” Zane motioned towards the chair in the dining room before he moved to the kitchen and began grabbing all of the items he needed.

Tristan was downplaying his injuries, he shouldn’t have been considering how much pain his body was vibrating with. But he was a little more than stubborn and he didn’t want to believe that his cousin had landed so much damage on him. The expression to goddamn bloodbender was sporting told him that there was indeed, a lot of the red coating his body; his clothes; clinging to him like he’d just bathed in it. 

He slumped himself down on a stool in Zane’s kitchen wincing when he felt the bruising strain against his side,one hand moving to hold his stomach where Landon had landed his two final cowardly kicks; booting a guy when he was down was a low-blow even by Tristan’s standards. The other hand was being used to balance himself on Z’s counter, the consideration to not drip droplets of blood onto the side long forgotten with the younger male. Before Miller had even much sat down, his friend was checking out his wounds, he was trying not to flinch under his touch as he worked his magic on the spillages that were leaking out the larger wounds. 

His phone was buzzing incessantly in his pocket and he’d tossed it on the table to tap replies to a worried Harley during the ordeal. It wasn’t much long after than he heard Zane’s going off on the other side of the room. “Landon happened,” Tristan answered with an irritable grunt, moving to remove his shirt with some discomfort from his body, it was an awkward shuffle to even get the cotton off. He did manage to plant it on the sideboard, groaning involuntarily at the sight of the purple and black stains that were prominent on his skin. It would take a long while to recover, Miller was realising. 

Struggling to laugh at the bender’s statement, Tris shook his head. “I just happened to be coming from Har’s.” he corrected, tilting his head back to take some heavy breaths so he could at least appreciate his platelets scabbing over where Zane was working his power. He slowly glimpsed down at his bottoms and clenched his jaw, figuring he probably did a whole new change. He tried to nod in agreement, not really noticing that he was fumbling at his belt. It would help ease the pressure on his stomach at least. 

The sound of Zane’s anger caused him to halt before he managed to unbutton the rest of his clothes and he looked up with that familiar irritation. Tristan knew he’d come across rude when he entered but his entire body was throbbing and he was dripping blood everywhere; he thought he was doing pretty well containing his temper. “I know you’re not, Z. I fucking just -” but he bit his lip shut, aware that it wasn’t going to help the situation. “I’m just plotting a guy’s death, sorry you’re just the one who it getting the brunt of it.” he added with some kind of apologetic grumble. He was thankful for Z helping him out - and not throwing him through the door for the intrusion. 

Tristan reluctantly took another seat on the stool in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, his belt undone and hanging off his loops as he dragged his feet through the arm. His arm gently prodding at the state of the almost foot sized bruises on his abdomen where Landon had landed his kicks. “Thanks,” he made sure to eventually remember to say after he managed to control the seething of agony through his teeth and collapsed onto the dining chair. 

| Purple Knuckles and P*ssed |