and pointy things on her knees

the boy by the power station


The boy has yellow hair, fluffy as a newly-hatched Pidgey, and he’s staring at the sky. “Hey kid,” Zenna says, “you need to get inside. Storm’s a-coming.”

He doesn’t turn his head; he says, “I’ve lost my baby,” while still scanning the low-hanging sky. The corners of his mouth quaver. Fuck. Zenna’s terrible with children; she never knows how to stop them from crying. Pokemon are so much easier.

“Your starter?” Zenna says: the boy looks about ten. Maybe. It’s hard to say. Locktown is a city built on crumbling industry, gouged by poverty, crouched in the shadows of the Zapdos Mountains – which jag up from the earth like the spine of a starved beast. It’s a hard land, and it’s inhabitants are hungry more often than not. This little one has sharp collarbones and pointed cheeks. Zenna pulls a chocolate bar from her pocket, unwraps it slowly.

At the crinkle, the boy’s head snaps around. His eyes are huge. “My baby,” he says again, “my Fearow.”

“Your –” his what. Fearows are savage bastards at the best of times, too much for all but the most hardy of trainers – more trouble than they’re worth half the time. “Your Fearow,” she says. The boy nods. He’s staring at the chocolate bar. Zenna throws it over. He fumbles the catch, snatches it up from the ground, doesn’t bother to brush the dirt off before cramming it in his mouth.

“Baby,” he says, “'cos Mama didn’t have any but me and she used to call me her Baby but she’s gone now so I’m the grown-up and he’s the Baby, see? He’s mine, he’s flown off, it’s the storm, you know?”

“You should get inside,” Zenna says, as the wind starts up. It’s bitter and spangled with ice. “Where do you live?”

“Uh – “ the boy says, “uh, see, there was Mama’s house only last week our landlord finally realised that we weren’t paying rent anymore and kicked us out – Baby would have stuck up for me but it isn’t worth it to fight them, no one can fight them, Giovanni would –” and his voice cuts off. He wipes a patina of snot on the back of his hand. “Mama always said to trust in my instincts so I did, I ran and I took Baby and ran and now I’m – I’m sleeping here,” and with one waved hand he encompasses their surroundings: wind-blasted fields, tumbledown factors, the wreckage of a once-prosporous town.

“You’re sleeping rough?”

“Yeah. Mama says – said – trust my instincts and they’re saying not to go back to Locktown.”

“It’s a dangerous place. Here, why don’t I help you find Baby?”

“Would you?” The kid’s face lights up. “Thanks miss!”

“Call me Zenna,” says Zenna, “Zenna Embers. Here,” and she throws a Pokeball. Her Charizard, Candela (named for her baby sister; they have the same irascible, demanding temperament; it seems only right), emerges in a flare of white light: the boy coos in admiration, and Zenna resists the temptation to preen. “Right Inferno! We’re looking for a Fearow –”

It all happens very quickly after that. A mighty roar of thunder shakes the earth. Lightning rends the sky apart with greedy, crooked fingers. Thunder answers the lightning, lightning answers the thunder, and in a heartbeat Zenna is in the middle of the worst storm she has ever known. Rain pounds down like the fists of a vengeful god, cold and punishing. Candela lifts his wings, intending to shelter her; but all this rain is worse for him, so she recalls him and screams, “Kid!” over the howl of the wind. “We’ve got to get to shelter! We’ve – “

Words snatched from her throat. The boy stands in a corona of light so bright it hurts to look at. There is a Zapdos on his shoulders. Its wings are arced over his head, shielding him from the downpour; the rain fizzles into steam against the lightning of its feathers.

And just like that the storm clears. Heavy grey clouds peel back to reveal the brilliance of a blue sky. And the kid says, “Baby! You worried me.”

The Zapdos – the Zapdos, god of lightning and god of the mountains and and and – nuzzles his head. He laughs in delight. “This is my friend,” he says, “Zenna,” and Zenna can barely breathe as the – god of thunder and bird of light and power and – regards her with two ferocious eyes. She resists the temptation to knee; it’s a primal, absurdist notion; but she’s faced with a myth, an actual honest-to-gods myth.

“That’s not a Fearow – it’s a Zapdos “ she says.

“Of course it’s a Fearow,” the boy chirrups, “got the pointy feathers and everything. Thought you were a trainer, you should know that sort of thing.”

“Uh,” says Zenna.

“Oh, where are my manners?” the boy continues, grinning and petting the Zapdos’s chest. “My name’s Spark. Nice to meet you!”

JonArya (books) fav moments  compilation.

(spoilers ahead)

[A Game of Thrones]

He was watching the action, so absorbed that he seemed unaware of her approach until his white wolf moved to meet them. Nymeria stalked closer on wary feet. Ghost, already larger than his litter mates, smelled her, gave her ear a careful nip, and settled back down.

Jon gave her a curious look. “Shouldn’t you be working on your stitches, little sister?”

Arya made a face at him. “I wanted to see them fight.”

He smiled. “Come here, then.”


“A shade more exhausting than needlework,” Jon observed.

“A shade more fun than needlework,” Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close.


“Nothing is fair,” Jon said. He messed up her hair again and walked away from her, Ghost moving silently beside him. Nymeria started to follow too, then stopped and came back when she saw that Arya was not coming.

Reluctantly she turned in the other direction.


Arya’s eyes went wide. Dark eyes, like his. “A sword,” she said in a small, hushed breath.

“I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won’t hack a man’s head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you’re fast enough.”

“I can be fast,” Arya said.

“First lesson,” Jon said. “Stick them with the pointy end.”

Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. “I know which end to use,” Arya said.


“Run, and ride, make yourself strong. And whatever you do …”
Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together.

“… don’t … tell … Sansa!”

Jon messed up her hair. “I will miss you, little sister.”

Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. “I wish you were coming with us.”

“Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?” He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad.

Arya ran to him for a last hug. “Put down the sword first,” Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses.

“All the best swords have names.”

“Like Ice,” she said. She looked at the blade in her hand. “Does this have a name? Oh, tell me.”

“Can’t you guess?” Jon teased. “Your very favorite thing.”

Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together:


The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north.


If only she could climb like Bran, she thought; she would go out the window and down the tower, run away from this horrible place, away from Sansa and Septa Mordane and Prince Joffrey, from all of them. Steal some food from the kitchens, take Needle and her good boots and a warm cloak. She could find Nymeria in the wild woods below the Trident, and together they’d return to Winterfell, or run to Jon on the Wall. She found herself wishing that Jon was here with her now. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so alone.


She would not betray Jon, not even to their father.


All she could think of was the lesson Jon had given her. “Stick them with the pointy end,”


Everything Syrio Forel had ever taught her vanished in a heartbeat. In that instant of sudden terror, the only lesson Arya could remember was the one Jon Snow had given her, the very first.

She stuck him with the pointy end, driving the blade upward with a wild, hysterical strength.

Arya…he missed her even more than Robb, skinny little thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and torn clothes, so fierce and willful. Arya never seemed to fit, no more than he had … yet she could always make Jon smile. He would give anything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more and watch her make a face, to hear her finish a sentence with him.


She wanted Jon to muss up her hair and call her “little sister” and finish her sentences with her.

He remembered the day he had left Winterfell, all the bittersweet farewells; Bran lying broken, Robb with snow in his hair, Arya raining kisses on him after he’d given her Needle.

[A Clash of Kings]

But it was Jon Snow she thought of most. She wished somehow they could come to the Wall before Winterfell, so Jon might muss up her hair and call her “little sister.” She’d tell him, “I missed you,” and he’d say it too at the very same moment, the way they always used to say things together. She would have liked that. She would have liked that better than anything.

Something about her made him think of Arya, though they looked nothing at all alike.
She was older than he’d thought at first, Jon realized; maybe as old as twenty, but short for her age, bandy-legged, with a round face, small hands, and a pug nose. Her shaggy mop of red hair stuck out in all directions. She looked plump as she crouched there, but most of that was layers of fur and wool and leather. Underneath all that she could be as skinny as Arya.

[A Storm of Swords]

Jon had never met anyone so stubborn, except maybe for his little sister Arya. Is she still my sister? he wondered. Was she ever? He had never truly been a Stark, only Lord Eddard’s motherless bastard.

“NO!” Arya and Gendry both said, at the exact same instant. Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell.
She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.


“I know where we could go,” Arya said. She still had one brother left. Jon will want me, even if no one else does. He’ll call me “little sister” and muss my hair. It was a long way, though, and she didn’t think she could get there by herself. She hadn’t even been able to reach Riverrun. “We could go to the Wall.”

[A Feast for Crows]

Her swordbelt went into the canal. Her cloak, tunic, breeches, smallclothes, all of it. All but Needle.

In her hand, Needle seemed to whisper to her. Stick them with the pointy end, it said, and, don’t tell Sansa! It’s just a sword. Needle was too small to be a proper sword, it was hardly more than a toy. She’d been a stupid little girl when Jon had it made for her. “It’s just a sword,” she said, aloud this time…

…but it wasn’t.

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room.

Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.


“You’ll be safe here,” she told Needle. “No one will know where you are but me.”

[A Dance with Dragons]


She had never cared if she was pretty, even when she was stupid Arya Stark. Only her father had ever called her that. Him, and Jon Snow, sometimes.

Even Jon would never know Blind Beth, I bet. That made her sad.

“He’s to marry Arya Stark. My little sister.” Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton’s bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she’ll fight him.


Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt. His thoughts kept returning to Arya.

He’d had Mikken make a sword for Arya once, a bravo’s blade, made small to fit her hand. Needle. He wondered if she still had it. Stick them with the pointy end, he’d told her.

All to save my sister. But the men of the Night’s Watch have no sisters.
“The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.”

“I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

“What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?”

“Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …”


Jon Snow sank to one knee in the snow. Gods of my fathers, protect these men. And Arya too, my little sister, wherever she might be. I pray you, let Mance find her and bring her safe to me.


Jon felt fifteen years old again. Little sister. He rose and donned his cloak.

He wanted to believe it would be Arya.

He wanted to see her face again, to smile at her and muss her hair, to tell her she was safe.

The girl was curled up near the fire, wrapped in a black woolen cloak three times her size and fast asleep.

She looked enough like Arya to give him pause, but only for a moment.

But she was too old, far too old.

She does look a bit like Arya, Jon thought. Starved and skinny, but her hair’s the same color, and her eyes.

She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it.

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart.


“A grey girl on a dying horse. Daggers in the dark. A promised prince, born in smoke and salt. It seems to me that you make nothing but mistakes, my lady. Where is Stannis? What of Rattleshirt and his spearwives? Where is my sister?


He wondered where Mance was now. Did he ever find you, little sister?


“Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end.


Good morning. The thought does not touch her yet, does not do a thing– all that’s left in this cell is this little body, tight, split in places. (You know, you feel it, there’s pain here, everywhere–) and the shy peek of white bone beneath skin where it’s sliced open. Elbows and knees, joints, like timid, agonizing hello’s– those moonlight-silver-blue eyes turn up, search. 


There’s fear in her mouth and the back of her throat and when she swallows it tastes like acid and terror and she sits up, aware, very suddenly, that the only thing to cover her is a blanket and she’s not sure where it came from.

There’s blood in her mouth, between her teeth, incisors a sharp, elegant, sabertooth curve that seem unfit to remain comfortably– pointy. little. teeth.

“–?” If punctuation could make a sound.

She wants to go home.


Kidnapped - A Smut Scenario

No one ever thinks they are going to ever encounter or get involved with a gang let alone the gang’s leader but when you start dating a guy who just happens to be the leader of a gang you immediately become involved even if you have no idea about the gang.

I found out about I week ago who my boyfriend really was when I was taken by a group of guys while I was walking home from work, I woke up tided up to a chair in a room that I assumed would be a basement and a man walked in just after I had woken with a bag in his hands.
“Oh good you’re awake, just in time” He said with a wicked smile on his lips.
“Why did you take me? Why am I here?” I ask trying to keep my voice calm but not being able to stop the tears running down my face.
“Because of your boyfriend baby, he’s the reason you’re here” He says placing a chair in front of me before sitting on it.
“My boyfriend hasn’t done anything wrong, what are talking about?!” By this stage I was completely confused as to what was going on.
“You really don’t know who your boyfriend is do you baby?” His smile getting even wider “Your boyfriend, Kai, is the fucking boss of my ex-gang!”
“What are you talking about my boyfriend’s name is Kim Jongin and he’s the CEO of a company!” Now even more confused than before, my boyfriend was not the boss of a gang and I knew no one with the name Kai.
“That’s just his cover baby, the name that all his little minions call him is Kai and he’s one of the most powerful men in Korea and he’s the perfect asshole as well!” He says opening his bag.
“You’re a liar! but let’s say what your saying is true why is it your ex-gang?” I ask trying to keep him talking instead of using whatever was in that bag.
“Well aren’t you a curious one baby. I had a girl she was a lot like you actually but the rival gang in the city took her and killed her and do you know what your boyfriend did about it?!” He empty’s the content of the bag onto the floor letting me see the gun’s, the whips, the chains, the knifes and all the other weird, sharp, pointy items that I had no idea what they were “Your boyfriend did nothing to get revenge on the other gang, to get my girlfriend some justice for what they did to her! So I decided that when he finally stopped fucking around and settled down with someone he really loved I would take her and do all the things that my girlfriend had done to her before she was killed and then I will kill him!” He says picking up a knife and gently running it from my knee down to my ankle enough to make me bleed but not deep.

I don’t reply to him anymore I just start to cry harder than I ever have in my life. The guy move’s away from me and over to the pile of stuff on the floor before he can even pick up anything the door is flung open and in walks Jongin holding a gun with other men that I’ve never seen before behind him all with guns as well.
“Jongin what’s going on?!” I cry out to him wanting nothing more than to be held in his arms.
“Baby girl I will explain every later I promise but right now I need you to close your eyes, I don’t want you watching. Close your eyes baby” Doing as he says I close my eyes knowing that I was going to hear a gun shot or something “Did you think I wouldn’t have someone following the love of my life around?! Did you think I had forgotten about you?! That I wouldn’t realise it was you who took her straight away?!” Jongin screams at the guy who took me.

There’s no more talking after that just a gun shot, someone’s body falling on the floor before Jongin whispers to me to keep my eyes closed, that everything’s okay and that we are going home now.

It’s been a week since then and since Jongin or Kai told me everything, I hadn’t seen him I told him I needed time but I was missing him greatly because no matter what he had done he loved me and I loved him and he never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it.

Even though we hadn’t seen each other I knew he still had people following me around, different guy’s to last time though that guy had gotten demoted from that job seeing as he didn’t keep me safe last week and these guy’s were more involved, they drove me to and from work, would come with me whenever I go down the street or would get someone to go down the street for me if they thought it wasn’t safe for me to go out that day, would answer the door to the delivering boy if I got take away and was always in the security room of my apartment building watching the camera’s if I didn’t need them. There was always at least one guy around 24/7 and there was always at least two people in the security room in my apartment building. I knew that I could trust these guys as they were Jongin’s most trusted gang members.

I couldn’t go any longer without seeing Jongin or Kai, I still wasn’t sure on what I should call him but that didn’t matter I just wanted to be with him again. I walked into Jongin penthouse apartment but that had always loved, I mean who wouldn’t it was gorgeous and had 360 views of the whole city. I had heard from my security guys that Jongin hadn’t left the apartment since the day I told him I needed space so I knew he was going to be there, the first room I checked was his office knowing that even though he was at home he would still be working and I was right there he was behind his giant oak wood desk typing away on his computer not even noticing me in the doorway.

I creep into the room quietly closing the door behind me surprised that he still hasn’t noticed me, taking off my coat revealing the tight, short skirt I had on underneath as well as my low cut blouse that was white and did little to hide my black lace bra I had on under it, knowing that it was Jongin favourite. I walked over to him and it wasn’t till I pulled his chair back that he finally noticed someone in the room, I sat myself up on his desk letting my skirt slide further up my legs.
“(Y/N) you’re here baby!!” He says pulling himself between your legs.
“I missed you and I didn’t want to spend any more time without your hands on me” I inform him grabbing his hands of my knees and placing them at the end of my skirt.
“Oh you did my love so you thought you’d come over here wearing my favourite shirt, my favourite bra that I can see through your shirt and this tight little skirt that I’m very sad I’ve never seen before” Jongin says standing up from his chair and pulling my skirt right off “It looks even better on the floor though”

I grabbed the collar of Jongin’s shirt pulling him into me so I could kiss him for the first time in a week which is to long for me and Jongin, the feeling of Jongin’s tongue in my mouth exploring every inch of it was the most amazing feeling. His tongue was so skilled at everything it did whether it was kissing, licking my nipples or licking my pussy he was amazing at all of it.

He pulled back from my lips ripping my shirt open causing the buttons to go flying off onto the floor, he ripped off my panties as well.
“OPPA! Not only did you wreck my shirt but now I don’t have any panties to wear home” I yell at him not actually mad and he knows it by the smile on my lips.
“Baby you don’t need panties because you’re not going home any time soon and also this wouldn’t be a problem if you just lived here” He says clearly hinting that he wants me to move in with him.
“You want me to move in with you?!” I ask trying to be sure that’s what he’s actually implying.
“Yes baby because than you’ll be with me all the time and it’s safer here than you’re place so please will you move in here with me” He says taking off his clothes as he talks.
“On one condition baby…” I reply confusing Jongin.
“What is that condition baby girl?”
“You take me into OUR room right now and fuck me. I don’t want no love making Oppa, bring out your big boss side on me!!” I say surprising and exciting Jongin.
“If you want me to good hard on you baby then you have to call me Kai, I’m no longer Jongin” He says picking me up, hands on my ass and moving to our bedroom.

Once in the bedroom ‘Kai’ throws me done onto the bed making me squeal. Getting up on the bed he spreads my legs apart and doesn’t waste any time with teasing me, putting his lips around my clit and sucking roughly making my back arch off of the mattress. My fingers into his hair and his name falling loudly from my lips among swear words and other noises. Kai’s lips detach from my clit which is now swollen from his rough sucking and his tongue starts it assault it instead, flicking his tongue back and forth over it causing me to squirm all over the place.
“Baby stop moving around or I’m going to have to punish you!!” He says deeply in a tone I’ve only ever heard once and that was last week when he was talking to the guy who kidnapped me.
Listening right away I stop moving and just grabbed his hair super hard making him hiss against my clit which made me cry out in pleasure. Once he was satisfied with how wet I was he crawled up my body.
“You ready for it rough baby? You can change your mind before it’s too late!” He says kissing your neck.
“I’m ready, give it to me Kai” I reply pulling his lips to mine in one last kiss before he takes me.

Pushing right into me not giving me any time to adjust to his size he immediately starts slamming my pussy making my nails dig into the skin of his biceps. With how hard he’s fucking me I’m screaming out his name and only his name as it’s the only thing I can think about. He throws my legs over his shoulders getting even deeper into me than before and now I’m not even screaming his name it’s just noise’s.
“Cum for me baby, I can feel how close you are!” He says sweat appearing all over his skin.

Doing as he says I came hard all over Kai’s dick that continues to pound into me until he finds his own realise not long after my own, rolling onto the bed beside me Kai kisses my forehead smiling cutely at me knowing my cheeky sweat Jongin was back.
“Baby if I knew you’d cum that hard from me being rough I would have done it a long time ago” He says with a cheeky grin on his face.
“Shut up Jongin” I say lightly slapping his chest before getting under the blanket and cuddling into his chest…


I don’t have much to add, except aww. This was really sweet.

I did like that Mamoru and Chibs came in after though, marking Usagi’s progress as she goes further to embracing the dream. In much the way that I hadn’t thought at first to include Chibi-Usa, neither did Usagi initially. Not because Mamoru and Chibi-Usa don’t mean anything to her, far from it, just that they’ve been physically absent for so long already. The Senshi, Usagi lost a few hours ago max. Mamoru and Chibs have been gone for months.

But that makes the fact that it’s Mamoru who is the only one to touch Usagi significant for that distance too. How long as she been desperate to hear him say something that isn’t his answering machine message? How long has she just wanted to feel that he was near? Here in her dream, Usagi gets both.

I love, too, that what he says is to assure her and express how proud he is (in all of them, because he’d hardly be Mamoru otherwise). Dream!Mamoru could’ve said anything. He said this. These are the things Usagi most needed to hear: that it’ll be okay, and they did well.

Usagi, you’re killing me.

Avoca || starman-john-tracy



“Yeah I’m good.” John swings himself into the chair, tucking in stray limbs and drawing up too-long too-pointy knees towards his chin. There’s not a lot of foot room in the little plane, but he curls into himself instead, tucking his head down into the soft leather of the back of the seat. It’s warm and a little tacky from being in the sun all morning, but it smells sort of comforting. Like their Father really. “How’re the pre-flight checks looking Bea?”

                          « ♥ »  —— “Pre-flight checks are okay.” She checks over a couple more things before hopping up onto the wing of the jet, taking off her jacket and folding it up. “Would you like this as a headrest? I can’t fly wearing it. It’s too uncomfortable for me.” Leaving the jacket on the side for him to decide whether he wanted it or not - she could shove it down by her feet if not - Beatrix hops into the pilot seat and completes her last few checks.